Devil on the Shoulder

Few can fathom the terror of making a deal with the Devil, and fewer still would wish for it regardless. Yet as Lloyd trudged across the college campus with a failed exam in hand, he was just desperate enough to desire it nonetheless.

“My soul for a passing grade,” he grumbled, “I can’t afford to fail again.” But the red letter F remained on the top of the page indifferent to his plea. Lloyd grit his teeth and crumpled the papers, tossing them at a nearby trashcan. He crossed his arms against the October chill and marched on to the parking lot, back to his beat up Honda.

As he approached the vehicle, the air shifted. What was a brisk afternoon transformed, morphing into an arctic winter. The soggy leaves beneath his shoes stiffened, frost flourishing and encasing them in a protective layer of ice. Lloyd stilled, breath catching in his chest.

He glanced around, seeking anyone else experiencing this bizarre weather. However, he only found himself squinting against a radiant sheet of white fog obscuring all but a few feet around him. He strained his ears instead, listening for any sound of others and finding none. Lloyd’s pulse quickened.

The air shifted to his right. Then his left. Lloyd jumped each time, but saw nobody.

“What is happening…” he muttered, his breath visible before his eyes. He cleared his throat and called out. “Hello?”

A voice responded, turning Lloyd’s blood to ice in his veins. It was impossibly cool, like concentrated menthol made audible, whispered direct into his ear from behind his shoulder. He shivered.

Hello Lloyd.

His entire being halted.

Be not afraid, Lloyd. I am not here to hurt you.

Lloyd struggled to imagine a scenario where hearing that phrase led to anything good.

Fair enough, but you do not know me. Yet. But you will. Consider this a simple...hello.

The voice answered his unspoken thoughts, a revelation only overshadowed by the immediate disappearance of both cold and fog after the words were spoken.

The weather and campus were normal again, the sounds of students coming and going filling Lloyd’s ears. After a moment he returned to his senses, sprinting to his car and tossing himself inside. He sat without moving for 30 minutes, trying to comprehend what just happened. Was it exhaustion? Delusion? He rubbed his temples and turned the key, resigning to return to his dull apartment and sleep off what must be his imagination.

Rest did not settle his nerves however, his dreams surprisingly vivid. He found himself yet again in the eye of a bizarre blizzard, the cold biting at the tips of his fingers and toes. The voice returned, this time beckoning him to reveal his desires. He did not answer, though this time he took note of the voice’s tone; Silky smooth and indescribably androgynous in a way he’d never experienced before.

After a while, safe in the security of his own slumber, Lloyd dared to ask a question.

“What are you?”

I am many things to many people. Some call me hope, but to others I am despair.

“...And what are you to me?”

A hollow laugh responded, its timbre felt in Lloyd’s every atom.

Opportunity. You have desires. I have the power to realize them.

A troubling thought rustled at the back of Lloyd’s mind. This voice came to him only after he’d made a joke about selling his soul to pass a class...

Is that so crazy, Lloyd?

“Of course it is...I didn’t mean that. It’s just a phrase people say.”

And yet if you say it to me...truly meaning it...anything you wish can be yours.

The cold grew in intensity and his teeth chattered, their pace running even with his frantic heart.

Think about it. I’ll be right…

The voice moved around him, circling like a lion playing with its prey before wrapping itself around his neck and filling his ear with a thunderous whisper.

HERE.

Lloyd awoke, panting and pulling the sheets tight around him for warmth. The dark apartment was a soothing reprieve from the blinding setting of his dream and he rubbed one ringing ear. That voice was no figment of his imagination. An entity had really spoken to him.

Lloyd clutched his chest. This being wanted a deal. It wanted his soul. How badly he didn’t know, but he feared the possibility that if it wanted his soul enough it might not need to ask nicely. Sleep did not find him again after that, but that suited him fine. Each moment without that voice in his ear felt a small miracle.

The next day Lloyd busied himself with his part time job, exhaustion dogging his steps. He pulled box after box from the various pallets in the grocery storeroom, breaking them down and placing the contents in their respective places. Thoughts of the voice troubled him but quietened as the day progressed, replaced gradually with the hope that it would not return. Lloyd reached for another can of soup when the box transformed in his hands, becoming a chest of gold coins.

You could be rich, Lloyd. Rich enough to never again shelve soup for mere pennies.

He screamed, dropping the chest and sending coins bouncing in all directions. Lloyd shook his head, the image returning to a regular box with cans rolling free.

He dropped to clear the mess, whispering aloud, “I’ve thought about it. I won’t give you what you want. Nothing is worth my soul.”

The chilling breath whispered sweetly in his ear again, this time closer.

Everyone has a price.

He trembled and responded, “Not me.”

The voice guffawed, fading into nothing.

Lloyd didn’t hear from the voice again until a few days later, while he drove to work. A sudden chill raised the hairs on his arms and this time he knew what approached.

“Hello Devil, come to tempt me once more?” He asked with empty bravado, steeling himself against the unnerving sensation of the voice resonating through his mind once more.

You misunderstand me, Lloyd. Your temptations are your own. I am simply a facilitator.

“Then you deny that you want my soul in exchange for anything I’d ask for?”

No, on that you are correct. Still, I do not seek compensation for personal gain. It’s just a necessary component for me to materialize your desires.

“Why?”

Because wishes are the innermost cries of one’s soul, of course.

Lloyd chewed on this a moment. “Regardless, you can’t make me agree to a deal. It won’t happen.”

On that we are agreed, Lloyd. One day though, I suspect you will feel different.

From then on, Lloyd’s life changed. No deal was made, no agreement reached. Yet the voice returned to him, at times daily and other times once every few months. He took to referring to it as the Devil, though it did not confirm that. The voice seemed to relish in the challenge, the defiance of one claiming to be unbending.

And as terrifying as it was, Lloyd himself became used to the conversations. He almost looked forward to them, asking questions here and there to try and pry information about the nature of the world from this voice that existed outside the mortal coil.

Years of visits turned into to a decade, then two. Lloyd experienced a continued elation at denying the voice, at proving himself unyielding despite his life’s hardships and the voice’s attempts at showing him the desires of his heart through dreams and waking visions.

Back when Lloyd failed out of college he still denied the offer of genius intellect. When his dead-end jobs failed to recognize his work he still denied the offer of fortune. And even when he returned alone to his apartment at night he denied the alluring offers of endless love and lust.

But the toughest offer to refuse, by far, came after the funeral of his father. The voice had swirled around him sobbing in his bed, offering to return life to the dead in a tone as smooth as honey. Lloyd clenched his eyes shut then, for the first time begging to be free of this endless debate.

I’ll leave when you make a deal, Lloyd.

“NO!” Lloyd had yelled, pressing his hands tight against his ears as the hot tears soaked into the pillow.

After that night, Lloyd was different. He now refused to answer when the voice beckoned him, reacting only in the most minute ways to the visions and dreams. He adopted a solitary lifestyle in his apartment thanks to a slight inheritance, filling the silence only with the strike of keys on his laptop. The voice still visited him from time to time, goading him with whatever temptation his soul called for in that moment.

That was, until one Spring morning, when Lloyd himself called out to the Devil. The chill swept into the room instantly, filling him with the now-familiar cold dread.

Interesting...Have you made a decision at last?

Lloyd smiled, replying with a contented silence. The chill shifted, permeating his mind and pulling the thoughts straight from his skull. He let it happen, eager for the mind-reader’s response. After a moment, the voice rumbled, deeper than it had ever been before. Lloyd knew the Devil had divined his scheme.

This is your answer?

“Yes, I thought you would appreciate this. You’ve offered fame, fortune and love for my soul. And now I’m going to get that from you without ever making a deal. For all your goading, you only ever gave me the experiences necessary to achieve those things on my own.”

The apartment’s walls groaned, the pipes aching as all the heat evacuated the space. Lloyd’s smirk tensed as the wave of icy air hit him, threatening to pull the breath from his lungs. The malice was palpable, but he had to stay strong.

“I just wanted you to know,” he announced, puffing his chest. “The book is coming out tomorrow and from then on I’ll be busy making my fame and fortune off sharing your attempts to coerce me with everyone. A tale straight from the Devil!”

Lloyd waited, expecting an angry response. He’d long since reasoned that the Devil could not hurt him, not so long as a deal had yet to be made. This was the moment to prove it and he’d be lying to say he didn’t thirst for the satisfaction of pulling one over on the Devil.

The silence dragged on. If it weren’t for the persistent cold, he’d think he was alone. But the puff of each breath he exhaled told him otherwise. After what felt like an eternity the voice spoke once more, though with the slightest hint of amusement.

Farewell Lloyd. Make the most of your choices.

The cold circled him one last time, chilling him to his core. Then it was gone. Lloyd chuckled uneasily, the twenty year debate finally over.

Each day thereafter, Lloyd experienced the benefits the deal was supposed to give him. The book brought him immense success, a book tour with signings, interviews, and more. He found himself with fortune enough to get anything he wished and soon found the perfect home in the corner of a forested town.

However, despite all his earthly desires satiated, despite having that which had been lauded over him for all those years...something felt off. The feeling began small, like being lonely in the middle of his own house warming party while surrounded by family and friends. Nevertheless it soon grew, festering in the corners of his mind.

Something was missing.

He’d be enjoying a fine meal with finer company...and feel empty. He’d try to write in his grand study, but achieve nothing. He’d indulge in all manners of pleasure, yet be left unsatisfied. Lloyd tried everything to fix it, to scratch the itch that plagued him. Still, nothing brought relief. That’s when he had a terrifying thought. One he didn’t dare speak aloud, instead keeping it inside for years.

Lloyd’s world dimmed, the fame and fortune unable to blot out the negativity that emanated from him. That was, until one particularly drunken night when he found a form of courage at the bottom of a bottle.

Alone in his study, he spoke to the ceiling in a voice thick with gin. “Devil? Are you there?”

He clasped his hand over his mouth, cursing himself. But in the same moment his eyes searched the corners, eager for a glimpse of that old familiar chill sweeping to him.

Yet nothing happened.

Lloyd went to bed with bitter tears in his eyes, wishing he knew what was wrong with him. After all this time, was he truly unhappy because he missed the voice’s attempts of coercion? The connection to one so mysterious and powerful?

Lloyd then continued to spiral, to the dismay of those around him. He became a recluse, his books rapidly waning in popularity as reviewers scorned his new works as soulless cash-grabs. His world soured one minute at a time.

Until finally, one night as the clock struck midnight, Lloyd had enough. He’d tried many times since that drunken evening to call the Devil to him. Nothing worked. But at the back of his mind, he knew one way. One way to bring back that smooth, determined voice to fill his ear with chilled nothings.

His lip trembled as he considered the words.

Then they tumbled out of him, one after the other pulled ever-faster like an avalanche of desire.

“I...know you can still hear me. I know you’re still here. I want to make a deal.”

The chill hissed through the air, slicing through the room in an instant to reach his ears. The entire home shook in its foundation, a permafrost exploding into life around him and stiffening the folds of his clothing.

The voice he so longed to hear returned to him.

Hello, Lloyd, it’s been a while…

He could hear the immense pleasure rippling through that soothing voice, caressing his earlobe.

Remember when last we spoke?

The air was so frigid Lloyd’s lips cracked as he opened his mouth to reply.

“Of course.”

You told me I couldn’t make you forge to a deal. And I agreed.

“I know.”

So why do you call me back now? Speak.

“Because…” Lloyd’s heart thumped, threatening to burst, “...because you whispered in my ear for so long that the absence of our conversations has driven all the joy from my life.”

The house shook, frost falling from the ceiling, as the Devil laughed at him.

But haven’t you riches, fame, love?

“Yes, but none of that means anything now. I...don’t even think I wanted that for myself. I only wanted to prove you wrong.”

And what is it you want from me now?

“I…” Lloyd hesitated. He’d missed the conversations, the knowledge that an entity bigger than him was ever-present and desired him. All else paled in comparison.

“I...wish only for you to continue to talk to me. Don’t leave me again. Is that...possible?”

Icy wind howled through the estate, shaking the window frames and cabinets.

If your soul desires it...I can grant it. Say it properly Lloyd and you’ll have what you wish.

His throat went dry. The moment was here, the significance not lost on him. He closed his eyes.

“Stay with me, Devil, and you can have my soul.”

Lloyd took a breath, waiting for pain or even the absence of feeling. But nothing happened. After a pause, he opened his eyes and gasped.

There, ten feet below him, lay his body bent over the desk. And in front of him he now saw that which spoke to him. That which no mortal being can witness or comprehend. An entity existing in defiance of all language. His mouth gaped, filled with a paralyzing dread. The figure held up what he understood as one long finger.

Hush now, Lloyd. You have nothing left to say that interests me.

His heart ached, realization washing over him. He’d made a deal for nothing. He cried out, loosing a broken shriek from the depths of his being, but it made no sound.

The entity shook with a laugh like a clap of thunder and cast him down with a glance.

Lloyd was sent soaring through the floorboards, through the layers of the Earth’s crust, deeper and deeper into the pits below. From that frigid hellscape, Lloyd would get his wish. To forever hear the voice he longed for...laughing at him from above for the rest of eternity.

As he fell the voice offered one last parting sentence.

Remember, Lloyd: only you are responsible for the wishes of your soul.