Devil's Sins

Purpose

Out of all the demons in all the realms, undoubtedly he was most powerful. His abilities could cause great destruction, he was too dangerous to ever be summoned. For this reason, he got a summoning symbol more complicated than the design of the seas. A symbol impossible to replicate by mistake, a symbol that needed lifetimes of searching to be found. It was made sure of that he would never be summoned.

Sam was done. He wasn't angry, or sad, or in pain. He was just tired. Numb. Alone. He knew this was coming. He had been planning it for weeks now. He had written notes to his friends, his family, even his shrink. There was no turning back now.

Sam shivered and pressed his coat closer to his body. The walk to the bridge was colder than he anticipated. Not that it mattered of course. The bridge was massive, modern, the pride of the city. Sam arrived at his destination. The third beam of the bridge. He leaned against it and stared into the sea, the very body of water he was about to disappear into forever. He wasn't wavering, not in the slightest. For the first time he was really sure. Just as he was about to make his way over the railing, something brushed against his hand. A leaflet, attached to the beam.

Suicide hotline. Smart really, putting it on the bridge like that. Not that it would make a difference. Sam shrugged and prepared to jump. But he had already dialled the number, reflexively, without meaning to. his phone was already ringing, the number from the leaflet displayed on the screen.

"Hello," a male voice answered, "How may I help you?" Sam was at absolute loss. "I, um. Bye." he stammered. Then he jumped.

Sam felt the rush of free fall. There were no emotions. Maybe, had the bridge been higher, had he fallen for longer, he would have had regrets. But it wasn't, he hadn't and so there weren't any.

It took a second to register that he had stopped falling. He was standing on the bridge, next to the third beam, as if he hadn't jumped. This confused Sam, but only for a second. He had read about pre-suicidal hallucinations before. He shrugged, jumped again. And again. What was this? Why didn't he end up in the sea as planned? Why couldn't he die?

Frustrated, with tears in his eyes, Sam turned to leave. A small, heavy looking man was blocking the way. "What is my purpose?". Sam shrugged, looked down and made his way around the man. Big cities always have crazy people like that. But the man appeared in front of him again. "You summoned me, now give me a purpose". Sam tried to keep walking, but the extreme persistence of the man, along with his ability to seemingly morph from place to place made this impossible.

Finally, Sam gave up. "What do you want?" he glared at the man. "You summoned me, now give me a purpose." the man repeated. "I summoned you? How? What even are you anyway?" Something about the way the man spoke led Sam to be sure that he couldn't be human. "You drew my symbol into your communication device. I am what you would call a demon, and now you have summoned me, you must give me purpose." The man spoke quietly, barely moving his lips to speak, but Sam could hear every word clearly. He held up his phone, with the recent call still on screen. "This is your symbol?" The creature nodded.

Deep in conversation with the demon, Sam, without realising, had reached his house. He opened the door and turned around, in order to invite the demon in, but he was gone. Sam shrugged, assuming he would see the demon the next day (they had discussed this on their walk), and walked in.

A leaflet flew by in the evening breeze. For a moment, it pressed onto the window. The hotline leaflet. The number at the bottom matched almost perfectly the number on the phone lying next to it. Almost.

That night as he lay in bed, Sam thought of everything but death. The possibilities, the opportunities, the life ahead of him. For once he was okay.

The demon returned into the darkness. The day had used up all his strength and now he would rest. The boy didn't know yet, of the purpose he had given, subconsciously, in the back of his mind. He looked so sure, jumping off that bridge, again and again. He would be confused the next morning. Maybe he would understand and maybe he wouldn't. It didn't matter. He was alive.

Thank you for reading! xx Kat