I spoke with the devil and if you listen closely you can still hear his whisper

I grew up in a family of modest means. After my father walked out the dinner my mother realized we were still struggling to get by, so she took a job as a night nurse at a local senior citizens home. I was 17 at the time, and the only child. She left for work at 10:00pm every night and didn't come back until 6:00am the next morning. I'd grown to appreciate the time I had alone and often spent it reading or watching a movie. That night was different. It was a Sunday and I wanted to stay up and watch a movie. The movie was some campy B-list horror flick and I enjoyed it and laughed at it. As the ending credits rolled I took a long blink and when I opened my eyes again I was sitting in a bright white room. I realized that I must have fallen asleep on the couch and somehow fallen into a dream. I looked around the room. There was no furniture. Just four blank and shining white walls. It was completely silent. I didn't hear any of the usual sounds you hear when you're in a house. There was nothing to see so I looked down. I saw that I was wearing a simple white robe. I reached up with my left hand and touched my neck, there were the faint marks of a strangulation. I stood up and called out to see if anyone would answer. They didn't. I walked a few steps forward and reached out to a blank wall. As I did a small window opened. There was a table. On the table was a glass of water. I looked and saw that the glass was full. I heard a sound and turned my head. The pouring noise had come from my left and as I looked I realized that the glass was now empty. I stared at the glass. I was confused and thirsty. I opened my dry mouth. The sound of the pouring stopped and the glass was full again. I reached through the window and grabbed the glass. I lifted it to my lips and drank in big gulps. The water was refreshing and I could feel it traveling through my parched mouth. I was so thirsty. As I finished a hand reached through the window and took the glass from my hand. As I looked up at the hand and arm I realized something was wrong. The hand and arm that held the glass were mine. *They were mine.* The skin was my skin. The veins were my veins. The hair was my hair. I stumbled backward and fell onto the ground. I scratched at my face and pulled at my ears. I looked at my hands. *They were still mine.* I spun back to face the window. I stood up and reached out and as I did the window disappeared. I was once again alone in the room. I stared at the blank wall. I tried to open the window again but it wouldn't budge. I paced back and forth between the walls. They had been so close. I could have been free. I called out again at the top of my lungs. No one came. Eventually I collapsed onto the floor. My legs hurt and my head hurt and my throat hurt. I realized that my throat hurt because I had been strangled. I looked down at the marks on my neck. My neck was bare. I took my hand off of my neck. I was still staring at my hand. *It was still mine.* I still stared at my hand. *It was still mine.* "You shouldn't have killed yourself." There was a voice behind me. I spun around. I saw a man who stood tall and proud. He was dressed in a simple but expensive looking black suit. His tie was bright red. There was a devilish smile on his face. "You shouldn't have killed yourself." He repeated. I didn't speak. I couldn't. I tried to open my mouth but nothing came. "Well," he said, "You aren't dead. Not yet. You still have a chance." He paused. "You see, this world is a sort of purgatory." He said. I still couldn't speak, but I tried to. "Now, before you die," he said, "You must suffer through the worst thing you've ever done." I still tried to speak. "Don't try to speak," he said. "You can't do it now. You'll be back in your life. Just listen to what I have to say." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small piece of paper, and held it out to me. I never saw it but it was the receipt for my death. "You have three days between deaths," he told me. "How am I supposed to speak to you if I can't speak?" I finally managed to say. He laughed. "You're not," he said. "You're speaking to me in your dreams. You're not speaking to me at all." There was a flash of light and I woke up. I sat up and reached for my phone. I looked at the clock. It read 3:59. I threw back the covers and stood up. I walked to the kitchen and turned on the stove. I poured the gasoline I had bought earlier into the pot. It was 4:02. I reached for the lighter. I heard the voice. "Three days."

I spoke with the devil and if you listen closely you can still hear his whisper

Comments (5) 10129 👁️