Author’s note – If anyone has a problem understanding the reference to Lucifer, I suggest they purchase a copy of ‘Hawk’s flight’ pronto and read it, particularly the story – Lucifer’s remorse.
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On a stultified day, I browsed upon a website – ‘ArtoonsInn’.
‘Sounds weird,’ I mumbled to myself but, decided to lurk. Who would give such a stupid name to a website?
Well, lo and behold, it turned out to be a writing community, a place after my own hypertensive heart. Hadn’t I thought always that I would make a brilliant writer? Maybe this was where I could show-off my genuine talent. No one else in my life appreciated it anyway.
But, ‘ArtoonsInn’? Well, honestly speaking, I got the ‘Inn’ part but, ‘Artoons’? Was it supposed to rhyme with ‘cartoons’? Most weird!
Anyhow, I joined up. I learned that the site was owned by some dude who everyone kept referring to as ‘The Kid’. How very Don Corlenoesque, don’t you think?
And, whatdayaknow ‘The Kid’ turned out to be just that – ‘a kid’. Go figure! I soon realized that he was a sweet, harmless, courteous fellow with a mop of slick, long-ish hair and a shy smile. But, boy was he a stickler for rules! Deadlines meant deadlines with him. Man, you’d think his generation would have some respect for… well, why go into age and all.
Anyhow, since I had nothing better to do, I settled into the space. I started participating. Not to toot my own horn but I wrote brilliant stories. And, I mean, really outstanding ones. Funny that no one else thought so. My outstanding stories consistently stood-out of the top 10 list.
What can one expect when a kid runs the site? No appreciation for real talent. Jealousy, I contended. But, I am made of thicker skin (like, literally!) so, I shamelessly kept participating. I was sure that soon my shining brilliance would be recognized.
Then, there came a prompt – metamorphosis. Gawd! Here I was going through hell in my own menopausal metamorphosis and this ‘kid’ wanted a story on that theme. How rude!
But, thinking about hell gave me a light-bulb moment. The story literally evolved as I visualized ‘the Kid’ as a demon tormenting me. After that, the story wrote itself. At 12 am, a happy me popped open a bottle of bubbly and went to sleep a tipsy little (ahem! Okay, maybe not so little) birdie.
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I woke up perspiring to a discernibly hotter room. Bleary-eyed and groggy, I stirred from under the blankets. Was my room on fire?
Alarmed, I groped on the bed stand for my spectacles and hit the light switch. My focussed gaze rested upon a young, friendly-faced man dressed in a hoodie, sporting straight, in-need-of-trim black hair. He was quiet unremarkable looking except for the fact that he seemed to glow like a flaming piece of coal.
Am I dreaming? And, does he look like…
I shook my head – No.
But, friendly-faced or not, the sight of him shrivelled my lily-liver. The darn thing would probably have fled had it not been glued to the adipose in my substantial frame.
My throat went dry. ‘Wh…who ar…are you?’ I managed to croak.
‘Lucifer,’ he replied in a sad little voice with a decidedly adenoidal twang. ‘I am the lord of hell.’
I am dreaming. I pinched myself. Ouch!
‘You are not dreaming,’ he replied. ‘It is me.’
I gawked with my mouth open. His face…it looked like….
But, Lucifer?
Hadn’t I written a story on him last night? Lucifer was a demon with flaming red eyes, scaly crocodile skin and a forked tongue. But, this pipsqueak looked harmless and well rather…erm, woebegone. His eyes were clear, not bloodshot. And, was that tears that they were brimming with?
‘Bu…but, I literally just wrote ‘you’ last night. Aren’t you supposed to be this really scary dude with a horned head and what not?’ I asked. I was a little emboldened by the fact that I had the distinct advantage of both height and weight on him. Never mind the arthritic joints.
‘No,’ he lamented. His lips drooped down pitifully. ‘That’s just how you people portray me. I was an angel, you know. My father banished me to hell.’
He turned to look at me. His face…it reminded me of…
But, I tell you, at that point I actually felt sorry for the dude. I mean, he looked so sweet, innocent and in desperate need of a hug. Thanks to him the room was a nice, toasty warm. I shoved off the covers and scuttled nearer to him.
‘Hey kiddo,’ I said in my sweetest motherly voice, the same that I reserve for babies. ‘Don’t be sad. Tell me, what’s bothering you?’
The room’s warmth intensified. He met my eyes. Their dampness cleared. A fiery spark went off in their depths. They smouldered like orange embers. His upper lip curled up. A fang poked out as he sneered, ‘You. It is you, who bothers me.’
‘M..me…’ I squeaked, startled at the frightful change in his demeanour.
‘Yessss,’ he hissed. His forked tongue slithered out as he snarled, ‘Imagine being baby-faced and then lording over hell.’
‘Ye…yes, your face…it looks…’
‘Quiet,’ he bellowed. I shrank as he expanded in a ball of flaming rage. ‘Can you imagine the jeers and snarky remarks I was subjected to initially?’ he growled, looming over me. ‘They made my life a living hell in hell.’
My suddenly full bladder threatened to spill.
‘And, you dare to write a story portraying me as good and remorseful, after the millennia I spent building a sterling demonic reputation on the back of this face.’
I cowered.
‘How dare you?’ he howled in anger. Sparks shot-off from his flaming persona. A few latched onto the curtains and promptly singed them.
‘I…I…I ma sor…sorry,’ I blubbered casting a furtive glance at the smoking curtains. ‘I promise I will write ‘you’ better.’
‘You better or…,’ he stooped and drew closer, blistering my tender, moisturized skin and hissed in my ear, ‘there is a place for you in hell.’
I tell you, I have been scared of ‘The Kid’ ever since.
******
Photo Credits: Pixabay
This is an entry for the event #Supernatural #UniK-7 being held at Writers Room | Room8.
Read the event guidelines here: UniK-7 event guidelines
Pre-order ArtoonsInn Books releasing on 07th.
Hawk’s Flight: https://www.amazon.in/dp/8194132681
Rewind: https://www.amazon.in/dp/8194847400
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