Dark Redemption

Time is taking its toll. The clock finally strikes eleven as Peter walks through the door shaking his soaked umbrella. Making his way past the parlor, he throws the umbrella against the wall but leaves the lights untouched. He casts his hat on the couch opposite him and drops his drenched coat on the floor. Peter begins skimming through his mail piled high on his desk. Reluctantly, he turns on a lamp beside him and rests in the confines of a nearby chair, humming a tune that quickly upsets him. 

Impatiently, Peter begins throwing each letter in the trash but stops as he sees a letter with his name scribbled carelessly across the envelope. Peter notices the ink dripping off the envelope trickling onto the floor. His fingers briskly touch the dripping ink. Now aware it's blood, he drops the letter instantly. This was the letter he’d hoped would never come. Nervously, he looks at the clock. 

“It cannot be,” Peter says in a slight whisper as he looks out the window across from him. 

Suddenly, his legs give way, and he drops to the floor. As if the letter is laced with poison he throws the letter across from him. 

Peter wipes his hand across his eyes, unaware of the blood-stained to his hands. Desperately, he stares at the letter humming the tune from before. His fingers brush frantically through his hair as he begins biting his lip, tears escaping his focused eyes. 

Finally, words depart his lips into a sudden stutter, “Please. It’s not time. I still have time.”

He looks up as if the heavens above would open. Peter raises his quivering legs to kneel, slowly pressing his hands together for a prayer. 

“God, please forgive me for what I’ve done!” Exasperated, Peter’s shoulders slump as his head hits the ground. 

"Oh, it’s too late for that,” says a slithering voice hidden in the darkness.

Peter’s breath stops instantaneously as he recognizes the voice echoing in the distance. Pure dread. Peter's body seizes with paralysis. His eyes are fixed out the window seeing only a blurred reflection of his visitor hovering over him. 

Only a word manages to escape his lips: “No.”

No response.

Suddenly, a downpour of rain breaks the naked silence, and a sigh of relief surges through Peter’s body. 

“You see, God hasn’t left me. Not yet,” says Peter as he watches the rain dance across the window, drowning out any reflection. 

Aghast, the resonance of claws scraping down the side of a nearby wall deafens Peter into submission. Quivering, his knees hit the ground once more. The claws draw closer until they suddenly stop by Peter’s ear. 

“A deal is a deal, Peter. Didn’t you read my little note?” 

Peter pauses, searching for words, “No.” 

“Why not? Too afraid?” A seething cackle echoes into Peter’s ear.

“I...”

“You should have known, Peter. All good things come to an end. Soon the misery flows back and all the happiness begins to drain away,” the voice chokes into a vengeful rasp, “Believe me. Time is done with you, as well as God.”

Peter inhales a heavy breath as he dares to turn his head. 

“Yes, Peter, look at me.” 

“I see only darkness.” Peter drops his head back to the ground.

“That surprises you?” A raw cackle now echoes throughout the house, drowning out the heavy rain. 

“I'm not ready. I didn’t have enough time!” cries Peter. 

“None of you humans do.” The voice begins to slither its way in front of Peter. Lifting his head once more, Peter finally stares into his visitor's eyes. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” A screeching laugh echoes throughout the house.

“Our deal is not finished yet.”

“Don’t play games with me! You had enough time. You wasted it.” 

“I...I just need more time. That’s all. Just time.” 

“Our deal is done. You lose, we win.” Peter could feel the darkness grinning with conceit. 

“Yes, what I did was wrong. I don’t deserve forgiveness. I won’t make excuses. I hurt a lot of people. Those people were innocent, and I hurt them. I don’t know how, but I know I can fix it. I just need time to make it right. Just give me more time!” 

Only silence responds. But then within moments, a heavy downpour of rain breaks through. Peter closes his eyes in relief and for even a moment the winds of hope feel like they might burst through the door. Suddenly, Peter feels a hand on top of his head. 

“Haven’t I heard this before?” A slithering whisper escapes from the dark abyss, moving from place to place. Peter, no longer in a stutter, grasps the fullness of his voice. 

“I’m not a failure anymore. I’ve changed.” Peter sees a bright, shimmering light flicker across the room; he knows they are no longer alone. Someone else has arrived. 

“Fortunately, you don’t make the decisions here.” An oblivious cackle escapes the darkness. 

“Something tells me you don’t either,” Peter remarks darkly as he turns to find himself staring directly into his visitor's eyes.

Coldly, it replies, “No?” 

“I was told that when finally all I see is darkness, utter darkness, and have no desire for anything good then the time is up for me. That rain is my sign. That was the deal. He hasn’t given up on me. Not yet.” 

Peter’s eyes are unmoving as he waits for a reaction from the visitor. The rain unrelentingly begins to downpour. Strikes of thunder roaring down from the heavens fill the room with short moments of blinding light. 

The visitor whispers darkly, “Despite what you want, your story won’t end happily. Eventually, you’ll have to pay the price. A deal is a deal.” 

Peter turns back towards the window, watching as the rain begins to subside. Slowly, he looks down at the letter thrown across from him. He grabs it. Slowly, he slides his finger to break the seal, then unfolds its contents. 

Seconds pass, until finally he looks up and says, “Maybe.”