literature

The Sorcyress and the Devil

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Literature Text

"Hello child." He held out a contract, "Sign on the dotted line please. Anything you want."

I pushed his arm away. "I'm not always that stupid, you know. I'm not signing that." I didn't even have to look to see if he had cloven feet or a pointed tail. There was only person in the world who talked so smoothly to me, who would purr so sweetly into my ear.

"Oh no?" He sat, straddling the log I was perched on moodily. "Come now, child, what's wrong? Something must be wrong, else I wouldn't be so drawn to you."

"Yes, thank you, something may be wrong but I certainly don't need your help here. I'll be fine."

"Fine? Fine, says the lost little girl with tears on her cheeks. So young and sweet and naive, to think she can solve all the worlds problems all by herself." I glared at him, looking upon his form for the first time. Even sitting down he was very tall, and rail thin. There was a definite red tinge to his skin, reflected by the red accents in his perfectly coifed clothing. He smiled, a cold empty smile, and I returned to staring at the ground.

"Poor silly child. Tell you what --you don't have to sign if you don't want to, but at least tell me what it is you want, and I can tell you whether I can grant it or not."

"What I want?" I stood, and turned to him angrily. "What I WANT?! What I want is to be free! To not have to take orders or depend on anyone, to be able to do what I truly want, when I truly want to. To nod be so damn captive to so damn many people and to not be stuck in cage after cage after cage. I want my freedom, you crazy devil, and if you think I can get it by signing more contracts, you're more stupid than you seem to think I am!" I dropped my hands, slightly embarrassed at how much I had been gesturing, and he laughed.

"Clever girl." he said, standing up next to me. "I wish you luck with that." He clapped me on the shoulder once, and walked off through the woods. Leaving me alone.

I turned, trying to figure out where I was. "What the hell just happened?" I muttered to myself.

A decidedly less emo version of myself stepped out from behind a tree. "Damned if I know." she said, and pointed the way back home.
...yep.

I went a bit emo just now, closed my computer in a rather childish huff, and, in the middle of the highly dramatic crying session (Although it can't have been that drama-based, as I kept it hidden from everyone else in the house) the idea for this one came to me.

So I wrote it.

Assorted versions of devils do visit me on ocassion, though it hasn't been so strictly a devil since about ninth grade (Usually, it's some varient on Her) It takes place in my mindscape, so it's perfectly reasonable for there to be more than one version of myself wandering around.

I may illustrate it, just because I am wearing the most ludicrous white dress in this. It's made of petticoats and lace, and would look very good if I was, oh, six. As it is, it makes me look unbearably awkward, like I refuse to grow up.

My rant (in reality) is actually slightly longer, because I can't have true freedom, nor do I want it, because it involves breaking off my ties with quite a few people I happen to rather like. That's the other half of the reason the devil gave up so easily.

Anyways. Writing stories is exceptionally good for me. Writing, in general, is exceptionally good for me. I've got a quote --"I write when I'm depressed. And when I'm happy. And other times too. Oh shit, writing is my comfort food, isn't it?"

Yep.
© 2008 - 2024 Sorcyress
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woozalia's avatar
i envy you being able to do that. i think i used to do that but somewhere along the way that flow got blocked.. am starting to try to get it unblocked again but the cinderblocks are reinforced by steel stress and stuffnthings.

Keep up with your comfort writing; it's awesome! :dance:


Harena of ~woozalia