The Devil Wants His Due

It started out as an ordinary day with the exception if a
light rain that look somewhat out of place with the
falling leaves of fall. One other notable exception would
perhaps be that absence of my best friend or ex-best
friend would be a more appropriate title for him. I
wrapped my coat tighter around me with the sudden
wind as I continued to walk down the deserted sidewalk
to school at 7:30 in the morning. The air around me
seemed to cool then warm up a little as I felt a presence
approach from behind me. I pulled to my left a little,
fully expecting the figure to continue on past. Instead
the figure, who had on a long, black trench coat, that
covered his whole body, and a plain, red ball cap,
perhaps to keep off the rain, I wasn't sure, came up
beside me and continued at my pace. Feeling uneasy
about this sudden intrusion of my personal space, I
slowed my step, trying to force the stranger to walk up
ahead of me, but the attempt failed. The stranger, who
was really no taller than I, kept his head low and his
hands in his pocket, seemed determined to walk with
me. After a few minutes of silent walking, with the rain
still lightly dripping, I cleared my throat, having my
curiosity getting the best of me, I finally asked:

"Who are you and what do you want?"

"Well, well," he (I assumed it was a he) lifted his head a
little, so now I could barely see the outline of his face, "I
thought you'd never ask. I, my dear prince, am the devil,
Satan, Lucifer, the dark lord, whatever you may want to
call me, I am he."

I blinked once, "the devil," I repeated to myself. I was
now looking over at him, no longer watching the
sidewalk. He glanced at me and I was taken aback by
the red tint in his eyes. Contacts, I was hoping.

"That's right, the devil," he turned away, now looking
straight ahead. "Although I know you don't believe in
the devil, but I assure you that will change by the time
I'm done with you, which should be soon."

"Well," I said, sucking in some air between my teeth,
"that's all very well and good, but I have some place I
need to be."

"Ah, yes, school. Very well, I shall make this as short as
possible then. Wasn't it just yesterday you said, and I
quote, 'God, I wish I could kill him'?"

I nodded in response, only slightly amazed he knew that.

He nodded in return and turned to look at me again,
"who is this 'he' you refer to?"

"Why don't you tell me. You are the devil after all."

"Hmm," he huffed, "I can see you will be difficult. 'He'
is in fact your best friend--"

"Ex-best friend," I cut in.

His hand shot up as if waving off what I had just said.
"If I may be so bold as to ask what is the reason you
want to kill him?"

"'Cause he's a back stabbing jerk--" by now I was
getting annoyed with this idle talk. "What are you
getting at?"

He stopped me by grabbing my right elbow and turned
my body around so we now faced each other. At that
precise moment the rain completely stopped, but
thunder still rumbled in the distance.

"Because," his eyes were now fierce and his voice low,
having lost that dark humor, "I am giving you the
chance to do just that."

I knew he [whoever he actually was] wasn't kidding,
but there was no way I could believe him. "Just that?
Kill him? I can't kill him."

He leaned in close to me, so close I could smell the
bitter sweetness of his breath. "And why not? You're
human and every human has the ability to kill.
You're a smart man, you should know that."

I shook my head, looking away from him. "I do know
that, but I can't kill him, he's my best friend--"

He lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him again.
"Ex-best friend, remember?"

"Yes, ex-best friend, but that still doesn't give me the
right to kill him."

"Shhh!" This time he brought his finger up to my lips.
"You're losing sight of the important thing here." I
waited silently for him to go on. The wind around us
picked up a little, making it hard for me to hear him.
"The important thing is your anger, don't lose sight of
that. You must release all that built up anger out on
him."

"I can't do that to him."

"You are angry at him, are you not?"

"Yes, but--"

"No buts, tomorrow you will take all that anger that
you hold inside, all that anger that you've kept inside
for years, and take it out on him," his tone was now
harsh and firm, "then you will not have to deal with
that anger, and you will not have to deal with him
either; he will be gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes, gone. You will kill him and he will be mine."

"No! I told you before I can't kill him."

"Why not?" He turned away from me and started
walking again. "He'll die tomorrow any ways."

I had to jog to catch up with him. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is," it was his turn to grow impatient,
"either you kill him or he dies another way. I'm giving
you a chance to release your anger and remain guilt
free."

"Guilt free? But how will he die if I don't kill him?"

He stopped again and turned to face me. "That's for me
to know," he pointed to himself slowly, "and you to
find out," he poked the middle of my chest, and I
could feel the heat from his finger through my shirt
and coat. With an inviting grin, he turned on his heal
and started to walk away.

I stood there for a moment longer, thinking to myself,
not paying any attention to him at all. Then when I
turned to catch up to him he was gone, nothing but the
sidewalk stood in front of me.

It started to rain again, a little harder than before.