Pretty Persuasion

Sam found the devil's words to be persuasive. "Where do I sign?"

"Right here, fine sir."

As he put pen to paper, Sam paused. "I almost feel bad. It's just too good to be true."

"I assure you every clause will be followed to the letter."

"It's just I don't like to agree to anything unless I feel certain both parties will be happy."

Six hours of negotiation later, the devil finally had the satisfaction of capturing Sam's signature. Never mind a soul was no longer included. He had at least saddled Sam with a lifetime subscription to Satan's Substack.

Friend Of The Devil

Satan ruled Hell with a malevolent thirst for pain and suffering, visiting the worst horrors imaginable upon all who entered his realm.

Bob was Satan's best friend. Bob defended Satan to anyone who would listen. Just because he had an important job to do, and that job was not all together pleasant, doesn't mean Satan was a bad guy. Don't confuse the uniform with the man. This was one of Bob's favorite sayings.

Those poor souls who suffered a Groundhog's Day repetition of never-ending torments hated Bob even more because he stuck up for Satan.

But that's what friends do.

The Boat

Queenie was a friend of mine. I went to visit one weekend. Her husband was there but I didn't get to see him much because he was "busy working on the boat."

He was working in the garden. I went out to say hello but he was silent and went on with the work.

We had a meal, just the two of us. Queenie was used to dining alone.

When we heard that the boat had sunk on its first voyage, there was a certain amount of hilarity. He had escaped with his life. The devil looks after his own.

From Guest Contributor Derek McMillan

Derek is the writer of "Murder from Beyond the Grave" available on eBay.

A Second Chance At Life

There's an owl outside the window. That's a bad omen.

"Maybe we should stay home tonight."

Amanda ignored his reluctance. "You got us into this mess. Let's get this over with so we can get our lives back."

He sighed, knowing what she said was true. But he'd been backed into a corner, with no good options left. He tried convincing Amanda everything he'd done was for her sake, but she still insisted she'd finally divorce him once they were free. If they could get free.

The thing about pacts with the devil is they are notoriously difficult to break.

The Gandy Dark

Three miles, under moonlight, over the dark bay, a long bridge over troubled water. Aside the Sawgrass swamps. The Doors’ low groan hypnotic. New Orleans is waiting for you. Look, I’ll drive, your friend says when you start swerving sideways. You’re slipping under, you are fading down to dreams. Yes, you say, stab your fingers into the packet of American Spirit, wave them at the pale pomelo half-plate in the sky, the sliver of moon that is lighting your way. You are on your way to meet the Devil you don’t believe in, but neither of you know it yet.

From Guest Contributor Lorette C. Luzajic

Lorette is a widely published writer of flash fiction and prose poetry, with recent or forthcoming appearances in Tiny Molecules, The Citron Review, Ghost Parachute, Dillydoun Review, and more. She is the founder and editor of The Ekphrastic Review, a journal of literature inspired by visual art.

Off Her Rocker

Annette sits in her favorite rocking chair, by a big window. A gloomy afternoon.

She cradles her dead baby in her pale arms. Hair as white as a ghost. Lips cracked and bleeding. Her body fragile and weak.

She sings a familiar tune. Rocking back and forth, as if trying to put the baby to sleep.

Her watch beeps. Medicine time. She throws the bottle out the window.

The Devil calls her name. She stops her singing. Her body freezes.

“He made me do it. He made me do it. He made me do it…” She repeats.

The devil exists.

From Guest Contributor Alexa Findlay

The Devil Of Wall Street

Walter Goggins is known to stock brokers everywhere as Wall Street poison. Every stock he's purchased in the past 30 years has immediately gone into the tank. He turned 18 on October 19, 1987 and by the end of that afternoon, they were already calling it Black Monday.

Since then, he's been quiet in his investments, ruining a Sears here and a Blackberry there with his ill-timed purchases. His urges sometimes get too much, however, and he'll start buying up whatever stocks strike his fancy, as in 2000 or 2008.

Walter doesn't care that he's unlucky. He enjoys ruining companies.

The Mist

One morning, Mayor Baffels woke up to find a dark mist had descended upon the city.

His first thought was on how the mist would play in the upcoming election. People would look for him to have the answers. Was it caused by pollution? Had there been an explosion? Were their lives in danger?

Baffels would use the opportunity to bolster his leadership credentials during a crisis. He expected it would ensure his reelection.

In the end, he did win, but the hellfire and destruction that were unleashed by his deal with devil made his victory rather pyrrhic in nature.

The Fine Print

As soon as the door opened, Jackson sprinted from the school bus. He could see the parcel sticking out of the mailbox from a hundred yards away. It had finally arrived.

Jackson ripped open the package. There it was. His brand new death ray. It looked just like in the magazine.

He suspiciously eyed the warranty at the bottom. He could barely read the fine print, but he would have bet his life it said something about his soul being forfeit to the devil in event of actual use.

Whatever. He had a death ray. Now, where was Chris Jenkins?

The Daily Theme from Figment for February 13, 2012

A character receives a parcel in the mail--something he or she was expecting. However, when this person opens the package, in addition to the anticipated item, there is something else. Something very surprising.