by Ally Malinenko
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\nThe devil looks exactly as you imagine.\u00a0 That is the first thing you should know.<\/p>\n
\u201cRight here,\u201d he said, pointing a long fingernail at the paper in front of him.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd then that\u2019s it?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd I get whatever I want?\u201d<\/p>\n
She wiped a few stray hairs from her warm forehead.\u00a0 He tapped his finger again and though she wasn\u2019t entirely sure she thought she saw him roll his eyes as if this was a daily occurrence.\u00a0 And then it dawned on her, to him, it was.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happens afterwards?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAfter what?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cAfter I die.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI own your soul.\u00a0 Look, I will give you everything you will ever want in life.\u00a0 Anything.\u00a0 You want it, it\u2019s yours.\u00a0 Material possessions; new house, new car.\u00a0 Done.\u00a0 Physical changes; bigger boobs, smaller waist.\u00a0 Done.\u00a0 Fantasies; being the envy of all your friends; amassing power and wealth.\u00a0 Done.\u00a0 Honestly,\u201d he said with a slight chuckle.\u00a0 \u201cAnd when you die your soul belongs to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happens then?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s like a great big pleasure cruise.\u00a0 Lots of laying around, doing nothing, being waited on by my servants, occasionally be forced into banal conversations with other passengers and listening to over enthusiastic conductors slaughter classic doo-wop tunes.\u201d<\/p>\n
She couldn\u2019t tell if he was joking.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d she said. \u00a0She held the pen over the line and just before touching the paper it dawned on her how quickly she was willing to sign away her immortal soul.\u00a0 She had often been accused of not being a believer.\u00a0 You know those people who wait outside of grocery stores to convert someone in the summer heat while their tub of coffee ice cream slowly melts into the same oblivion the believers won\u2019t stop talking about.\u00a0 She was that person you always see stuck talking to them taking handfuls of leaflets as you skirt by thinking, Thank God that wasn\u2019t me<\/em>, your ice cream soon to be safely tucked into your freezer at home.\u00a0 But though she had never been a believer per se, she often let her mind wander to the potential of life after death, as any creature capable of foreseeing their own demise.\u00a0 And not once did it ever dawn on her that she would wind up in Hell.\u00a0 Yet here she was, on a perfectly average night, fantasizing about how her life could change if she signed on the dotted line.<\/p>\n \u201cWait,\u201d she said, pulling the pen away again, eliciting another groan from the Devil.\u00a0 \u201cBut during my life, you know before I die, will you be needing anything?\u00a0 I mean, am I going to have to do your bidding?\u201d she asked, her pen wavering over the line.<\/p>\n The devil sighed.\u00a0 \u201cHow did they all figure out this question?\u201d he asked, to no one in particular.\u00a0 He concluded, correctly, that there must be some sort of leak from the inside that he would have to undoubtedly get to the bottom of.\u00a0 Someone needed to keep their little demon mouth shut.\u00a0 He looked at her.\u00a0 \u201cYes, on occasion, I might ask a favor or so from you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat kind of favor?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, the usual.\u00a0 New recruits, creation of bridges, that sort of thing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCreation of bridges?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, it was sort of necessary in the past but I haven\u2019t needed any in a while.\u00a0 Look, I wouldn\u2019t really worry about it, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat would you need a bridge for?\u00a0 To get to the world of the living?\u201d<\/p>\n The devil held up his hands in exasperation.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you really think I need a bridge?\u00a0 I mean, here I am.\u00a0 No bridge in sight,\u201d he said.\u00a0 She looked around the sparse landscape.\u00a0 She did not stand at a crossroads, as is often considered a popular place to parse out one\u2019s soul.\u00a0 Nor was she at a carnival fairground, where seedy characters of every nature might seduce a distraught young woman.\u00a0 Not that she was distraught, technically speaking.\u00a0 Or for that matter, young.\u00a0 They were not near a cemetery or a potential gateway of any sort.\u00a0 Instead she was in the parking lot of the mall that she worked at.\u00a0 Nor was it the first or last day of the month, or during the waxing or waning moon or midnight or 3:00 am, a purportedly known witching hour.\u00a0 It was a Tuesday.\u00a0 And it was nearly 7:10 which meant she was going to be late visiting her elderly mother at the retirement home which would lead to the inevitable accusation her mother always made that the woman didn\u2019t even love her enough to visit her in the hell-hole that she had put her in nearly five years ago.<\/p>\n \u201cThe bridge,\u201d the devil continued, \u201cis a rather easy way to set up a toll.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA toll?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cYes.\u00a0 Like a tax.\u00a0 For instance, I believe it is common around here to pay a fee of some sort in order to get to the other side of a bridge or tunnel.\u00a0 Is that not still the case?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, I mean, yeah, we pay tolls.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell exactly.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo you collect money?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo darling, I collect souls,\u201d he said again tapping at the paper in her hand.<\/p>\n \u201cAs a toll?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPretty much.\u00a0 In the past, I used to have my faithful create bridges and whomever passed would forfeit their soul.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWait a second.\u00a0 So anyone who went over this bridge automatically gave up their eternal soul without even knowing it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPretty much.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat seems a little unfair.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell it was a rather difficult bridge to create and quite breathtaking to behold.\u00a0 Anyone worth their salt might have taken a look around and said to themselves, you know, this seems to go against the very nature of physics.\u00a0 Maybe I should think twice before crossing it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s just wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBe that as it may, I have the right to not play fairly<\/em>.\u00a0 That is sort of my thing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo do I have to build a bridge?\u201d she asked.\u00a0 The woman didn\u2019t have the foggiest idea how to build a bridge.\u00a0 She imagined there would be engineers involved.\u00a0 And zoning permits. \u00a0The whole thing was starting to give her a headache.\u00a0 Maybe this wasn\u2019t a good idea.\u00a0 Maybe there were going to be a million little loopholes and she would wind up doing way more work than just giving up her soul.\u00a0 She put the pen in her mouth and chewed nervously.<\/p>\n The Devil reached over, removed the pen from her mouth, and wiped it on her sleeve.\u00a0 He put the pen back in her hand.<\/p>\n \u201cYou will not have to create a bridge.\u00a0 It seems that in the end it was determined that the relative unfairness was too great and I was getting greedy, which let\u2019s be honest, is sort of a joke, and collecting too many souls without doing any work, so, now, it\u2019s all gotten a bit more complicated.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cComplicated, how?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cComplicated in that I\u2019m standing in a bloody parking lot in a bloody mall explaining the whole thing to you!\u201d he roared, dropping his voice to such a decibel that the woman could feel it in her very bones, in every cell of her being, in the very fibers of whatever her soul was made of and she shook from the intensity of it.<\/p>\n \u201cMy apologies,\u201d the Devil continued.\u00a0 \u201cI will not have you build me a bridge or steal babies or any of those other rumors you have heard.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSteal babies?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes, it\u2019s too easy.\u00a0 Their souls come right out.\u00a0 There is no challenge.\u00a0 Even I can admit to that as a sort of cheating.\u201d<\/p>\n The woman swallowed.\u00a0 She felt the weight of the contract in her hand.\u00a0 In stories it was always a single sheet of paper.\u00a0 This felt like a phone book and was covered in a degree of legalese.<\/p>\n And then a thought hit her.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat if I wanted to?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWanted to what?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBuild the bridge.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cExcellent.\u00a0 By all means, build a bridge.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI mean for you,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n \u201cI figured as much.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOkay,\u201d she said and, with a quick movement, as if her body had to move faster than her brain, she signed the paper.<\/p>\n \u201cThank you,\u201d the devil said snatching it out of her hand.\u00a0 \u201cNow the fun part.\u00a0 I think we should start with all this,\u201d he said waving his hand over her body. The first person had been the hardest decision.\u00a0 It took her a while to track him down.\u00a0 She had not seen him since high school but when they finally met up for coffee she was amazed that he smelled the same as she remembered.\u00a0 It was like going back in time.\u00a0 He still had the easy laugh, only this time when he laughed it was with <\/em>her.\u00a0 She frowned about his divorce and rubbed his hand that he left on the table.\u00a0 Every hour, he told her how amazing she looked and she smiled a sheepish smile.\u00a0 Indeed, she had changed, hadn\u2019t she?\u00a0 Blossomed, if you will.\u00a0 Her face no longer pale and pockmarked.\u00a0 Her hair shiny.\u00a0 Her waist thinner than it was in high school.<\/p>\n She waited awhile before bringing him to her bridge.\u00a0 She wanted it to be a special night.\u00a0 The stone echoed under his shoes.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s absolutely gorgeous,\u201d he said.\u00a0 \u201cI can\u2019t believe I grew up in this town and never knew this was here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s easy not to notice things,\u201d she said looking down over her hands at the drop below them.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen was it built?\u201d he wondered running his hands over the smooth stone work.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, I have no idea,\u201d she said.\u00a0 \u201cProbably a long time ago.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDoesn\u2019t it seem like it was built by monks?\u00a0 I heard there was a monastery around here a long time ago.\u201d<\/p>\n The woman chuckled at this and grabbed his hand.\u00a0 \u201cCome on, let\u2019s go,\u201d she said leading him across.<\/p>\n She was nervous.\u00a0 She had no idea what would happen.\u00a0 Would it be immediate?\u00a0 When he got to the other side, would he vanish?\u00a0 Would he shrivel up and die?\u00a0 Would the devil show up?\u00a0 Would there be screaming and pain and misery?<\/p>\n But instead, to her mild disappointment, they just crossed, continued down the path, toward the waterfall.\u00a0 He seemed fine.\u00a0 As if nothing had happened.\u00a0 She worried that it didn\u2019t work.<\/p>\n Later that night, as he slept next to her, she removed the heavy band of papers from the nightstand, flipped through to the back and saw, underneath her own name, his.\u00a0 She smiled, and snuggled down into bed.<\/p>\n The others had been easier.<\/p>\n She checked her watch again.\u00a0 Her brother was nowhere in sight.\u00a0 She glanced over at the gazebo on the other side of the bridge.\u00a0 Everything was set up.\u00a0 A giant banquet table, the food was waiting.\u00a0 The tables decorated with the same flowers she had used on her wedding day, ten years ago.<\/p>\n She heard the crunch of gravel on the road and the chatter of voices, bickering, exhausted-sounding voices growing.\u00a0 Her brother arrived, with his wife and their three kids.\u00a0 In front of him they pushed their elderly mother, now wheelchair bound.<\/p>\n \u201cHow did you find this place?\u201d he said gruffly.<\/p>\n \u201cA friend told me about it,\u201d she answered. \u201cIt\u2019s wonderful to see you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, you too, sis.\u00a0 I mean, it was a pain in the ass to get out here, but hey, I\u2019m glad to see you.\u201d<\/p>\n She smiled.\u00a0 That was typical of him.\u00a0 She kissed each of them on the cheek, thanked them for coming, and she ushered them over the bridge.<\/p>\n One by one.<\/p>\n Next came her father.<\/p>\n Then her stepmother.<\/p>\n Her sister and her sister\u2019s family.<\/p>\n Two aunts and six cousins.<\/p>\n Then the long line of friends that she had only in the last ten years been able to accumulate.\u00a0 Good friends.\u00a0 Who loved her for her kindness, her tact.\u00a0 Friends who weren\u2019t jealous even though she had everything they could possibly want.\u00a0 They loved her too much to envy her.<\/p>\n And she thought about each name that was being added to that list.<\/p>\n Her husband made a toast.\u00a0 It was touching, about family and love being the things you can count on.\u00a0 The things that go on forever.\u00a0 About how lucky he was.\u00a0 About how lucky they all were.<\/p>\n \u201cHappy anniversary to the love of my life,\u201d he said as she felt the tears gather.<\/p>\n Everyone smiled, clinked glasses and drank.\u00a0 And she thought to herself how beautiful it is that they would always, always be together.\u00a0 Not even death would take a single loved one at this table.\u00a0 Not from her.\u00a0 They would all be reunited.\u00a0 She had made sure of that. by Ally Malinenko The devil looks exactly as you imagine.\u00a0 That is the first thing you should know. \u201cRight here,\u201d he said, pointing a long fingernail at the paper in front of him. \u201cAnd then that\u2019s it?\u201d she asked. \u201cThat\u2019s … Continue reading
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\nTwenty years later, she stood at the center for a bridge on the outskirts of town, waiting for her brother.\u00a0 As she gazed around the familiar landscape she knew she had picked the ideal location.\u00a0 There were trees, craggy mountains, a steep gorge, a small bubbling stream fifty feet below.\u00a0 And the bridge itself, stone arched, like a woman\u2019s back mid-tumble.\u00a0 Every season was breathtaking.\u00a0 It was perfect.\u00a0 It was romantic.\u00a0 And it was hers.<\/p>\n
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\nALLY MALINENKO<\/strong> has been lucky to be published in numerous online and print journals. Her first book of poems, entitled The Wanting Bone<\/em> was published by Six Gallery Press. She currently lives in the part of Brooklyn the tour buses don’t go to.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"