I loved her, even if she never knew my name. She was my Ariel, and I know I am her Eric.
No matter what she says.
#1 in short story on 02/07/18
This beautiful cover was a gift from @Kmbell92! If you somehow haven't yet, please check her out!
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The angel dragged a hand through their hair, face pinched with stress as the man before them finished recounting his story with enthusiasm. His face was deformed, not only from bodily mutation but the pure evil that practically seeped from the pores of his skin, and hair greasy (whether that was from not bathing, or on purpose, they didn't really want to know). He held no guilt, only remorse for how he could have created the "perfect crime" as he kept repeating.
His jars of judgment (used in the afterlife to determine the dead's fates) were so disproportionate that the one to the far right, representing evil, was almost full - something that, while not unheard of, certainly was rare.
"So..." The tense air was pierced by a long, drawn-out yawn as "Colton" stretched, looking awfully comfortable in his chair. "Are we going to do anything, Meahnan bud? Or just stare at your magical swirly bullshit jars? Cause like, I'm fine with either. Do they contain Alcohol? Or are they magical hallucinogenics? Oh, now don't you hold out on me!" Colton perked up, his eyes practically shining.
Meahnan could only sigh. "Colto-"
"Don't you fucking say that name! He's dead! I'm Eric. You hear me? E - R - I - C." Colton bristled, the eager, almost childlike wonder in his eyes replaced with something much more sinister.
It was the face of a killer, a Murderer.
It was the face of someone who took it upon themselves to dictate who was to live, and who was to die. Someone who only spread pain in their existence.
The angel only looked somewhat irritated. "You've murdered, deformed, tortured, broken your own kind both mentally and physically. Raised by clueless parents, your mother sharing your tendencies. You've taken pleasure in other's pain, and deserve some of the strictest penalties in Spean-"
"The hell's a Spheean? A bean spoon? A beanie sold in a soup store? A-"
"You shall be placed into some of the most extensive therapy we provide until we can safely allow you to be reincarnated." The angel's tone was final, words clipped. To most, the aura that emitted from them would have been intimidating, if not downright frightening.
To Colton, it was merely a challenge.
"Look bud, that sounds cool and all, but-"
"You are done here. Despite your delusions, this world does not centralize around you. You're merely an inconvenience, some little hiccup to remind your kind that they need to continue progressing. You're not a fucking main character to some story." Meahnan sighed, dragging their arm up to press at a cufflink. "Security, please come into room seven to detain a rowdy spirit."
They ignored Colton's confused look, merely writing something down on what could only be described as a tablet, their brow furrowed in thought.
After all, they had much more difficult cases to crack than some sloppy psycho serial killer.
