Dark Penance

This story contains references to the sexual abuse of children. Reader discretion is advised.

The Devil came to him in a desert. The sky was blank and bright, blinding blue, with a sun that shone harshly upon a pale ground spider webbed with large cracks. Before The Devil came he saw mountains surrounding him, him and the small, upturned boat that pressed against his naked back. A high ringing sound filled his ears, constant and grating, and he saw black smoke spiralling up in massive plumes that blocked the horizons view.

“Thomas Haig.” Came the harsh whisper of The Devils voice, and with it came a prominent smell of sulfur and rotting meat. When The Devil came into view Haig had no knowledge of where they came from, nor where they may go when this moment had passed. “Be not afraid.” The Devil said, it’s tone mocking and childish in its glee. “You are a great favourite here.”

The Devil had no horns in its golden blonde curls, and it’s skin wasn’t red and ruddy but glowing and fair, as if not a second of its life had been spent in the harsh sunlight it now stood in. The Devil was hairless, save the top of its head, and had features soft and small like a young boys, but it’s voice came scratching out if it’s throat like an old hags. It was naked, but no genitals or breasts formed from its flesh, and out of its back jutted twin wings bereft of any feathers or skin, leaving charcoal black bones.

“How am I a favourite?” Questioned Haig, fear audible in the back of his throat. “Do you truly need to ask?” Mused The Devil, and memories of life ran through the skull of that bastard Thomas Haig. Good ones. The ones featuring the girls and the boys who looked as sweet as the girls. He remembered talking to some, making promises to others, taking the rest by force from the hands of men and women he had killed in their own homes by blade or by hammer or by bullet. They all ended the same way, with Thomas Haig sinking himself to the hilt in their thrashing, trembling forms, and then leaving them by the side of the road when he had his fill.

The memories made him hard, but that hardness dissipated when he remembered how the last one, a juicy little bitch of nine years who had bashed him in the head with a stone, and had ran and told on him. The trial was swift, as was the hanging, though Haig was told by the old Marshall that it would not be a swift death. He was right. The sensation of the rope crushing his windpipe and of himself kicking the air uselessly made Thomas Haig shoot a hand to his neck. Thomas Haigs neck wasn’t broken or crushed now, so, slowly, the tightness in his chest loosened.

“Don’t you think you should’ve done more?” Said The Devil after Haigs gasping subsided. “Don’t you want to find that little bitch and make her pay? Have your fill with her, and after?” Haig looked at The Devil, took in its naked, unnatural form for a long while before responding. “Won’t that cause more problems for me down the line? Won’t me taking that deal get me a worse punishment?”

The Devil just started laughing and, from the distant mountains from which smoke belched into the air, a cacophony of high whines and deep bellied guffaws and agonized moaning filled the stinking air. “Quit your laughing!” Haig screaming. “Ain’t nothing funny here, shut it!” The Devil raised a hand and, without one exception, the choir of laughter ceased. “I want to make a real deal with you Haig, I think you’ll like it. For you, I will grant you one more life to live as you see fit.” The Devils left hand was laid onto Haigs left shoulder, and he struggled not to gasp at its striking heat. “It’ll be a life dependent on how many you send my way. Every man, woman, and child you send down to me, what would have been their life becomes yours. You could do the things you love doing forever Haig. Do you really, truly want to pass that up?”

He didn’t want to pass it up, that deal was like music to Haig, but he kept his jaw set and his face neutral. “You didn’t answer my original question.” The quaver in his voice had long since gone past, and was replaced with an uncontrollably shiver of glee. “What happens when that well runs dry?” The Devil took his hand off of the man’s shoulder, creating an involuntary sigh from Haigs throat. “You can’t get it any worse than you already will Haig, even we have limits down here.” The Devils whisper had turned to a man’s normal speaking voice, one that Haig realized was his own. “Why not try and stave it off for a while?” The Devil leaned into Haigs ear like a seductive harlot. It’s whisper returned, the voice itself echoing between a man and a woman’s. “Why not come down here a legend?” Its voice split the man’s doubt in half. Thomas Haig, killer of 20 men, women, and children, and rapist of twice that, shook the hand of The Devil in that dried out portion of Hell, and his vision went black. He would make that juicy little bitch pay alright.

When his vision returned it was still black. The air around him was hot and suffocating and the sensation of wood against his spine had not gone away. Confusion reigned for just a short moment before realization set in, and anger, horror, and despair took hold for the rest of Thomas Haigs miserable life as he began to uselessly scratch and flail against the inside of his new prison. He cursed The Devil. He cursed God and all His servants. That nine year old girl was cursed as well, as was the Marshall and all of his victims. He screamed and cussed until his throat went hoarse.

Under six feet of dirt, nobody could hear his screaming.

Lower than that, a choir of laughter started up again.