(Declan lay alone in his room at the weekend. The school unit was empty. Declan was the only boy there. Outside the wind was blowing a gale. The trees were scratching against his window. In a few days time it would be Halloween and the staff had already decorated the unit in anticipation of the Witches Sabbath. As Declan lay there lonely and scared, he pictured the Devil’s Mask that hung on the wall and it seemed to take on a life of its own. Suddenly, he heard foot-steps like horses hooves making there way towards his door.)
Declan: Who’s there?
Devil: An old friend.
Declan: But I don’t have any friends. I must be dreaming.
Devil: This is no dream, my friend. It’s very important we talk.
Declan: Please come in, then!
(The devil walks into the room. It’s a big black shape with flaming eyes. And a shape that looks like horns on his head.)
Devil: Hello Declan—allow me to introduce myself, I’m the devil.
Declan: Pleased to meet you, my friend ... so, why are you here?
Devil: Because I’m fed up with your spoiling my reputation—everyone at school blames me for the your behaviour.
Declan: Everyone at school thinks I am so cool.
Devil: Have you ever heard of Robert Burns?
Declan: Not really. I only listen to gangster rap, mate.
Devil: He asked if only we could see ourselves as others see us.
Declan: So, how do you see me then—as a supercool hardman, like
everyone else does?
Devil: It’s how I see you in the future that’s important, my old friend.
Declan: Wow, am I going to rule in hell as a Hell’s Angel?
Devil: I am afraid we don’t want you in Hell, Declan.
Declan: What? Am I going to Heaven, then?
Devil: Sorry, they don’t want you either.
Declan: What will happen to me then?
Devil: You will be homeless and poor, and despised by all.
Declan: No I won’t I will have a huge house, a Ferrari, a swimming pool, lots of beautiful girl friends and drive to night clubs in a big limousine with a mini-bar in the back.
Devil: There will be no house, no car, no girlfriends. You will be poor, sad and lonely, dressed in rags and begging for change in the gutter.
Declan: Ha, you’re having a laugh! I can get all these things easily.
Devil: Declan, even my best servants, the rich and famous of this world have had to work hard—Margret Thatcher, Tony Blair, George Bush, Madonna, J.K. Rowling—You have done nothing. No work at school; nothing around the house; you waste your time just dossing around being lazy. Not even I could make you rich, and I’m pretty good at that.
Declan: Doesn’t matter mate—I’ll just sign on and get benefits. There’s a guy down the road from me—never worked; has a car and a 42 inch Telly—went to Spain this summer as well.
Devil: Ah, now here’s the rub—you see Declan, I control Parliament and the Government—Labour, Tory, Lib-Dems—they are all mine.
Declan: What about the SNP?
Devil: I’m working on it.
Devil: Anyway, where was I? ... Oh, yes, after years of letting politicians bankrupt the nation by dishing out benefits, I will stop them all—just like I stopped the banks dishing out loans. I own the banks too, you know—not that I’m trying to boast or anything.
Declan: But what about Wonga and Kwik Cash? They give you loans.
Devil: Oh, No! I wouldn’t touch those organisations with a barge pole. Don’t get me wrong; I invented interest to cause untold misery to humanity, but it turns out that humanity can be more evil than even me. By all means, take loan from Wonga. It will make your journey to
despair all the quicker.
Declan: So, are you saying I can’t sponge off the state for the rest of my life?
Devil: Clever boy—you are learning.
Declan: What, no one will give me a job?
Devil: No!
Declan: Not even on the building sites?
Devil: These days, no one hires a boy to lift bricks when he’s too lazy to lift a pen.
Declan: Hey, you’re my only friend, you’ve got to help me.
Devil: You could always help yourself!
Declan: How?
Devil: Are they not your maths books sitting in the corner? You could start with that.
Declan: Maths—you having a laugh?
Devil: You can’t do anything without maths, Declan, I thought even you would know that. You won’t even be able to count the change you beg for in the streets. And besides—many of my best servants have been mathematicians: Pythagoras, Hermes, John Dee, Robert Oppenheimer, Gordon Brown, George Osborne …
Declan: Fraser Maitland, the maths teacher—he’s pretty good?
Devil: Yes, a prodigy of mine—nice of you to notice.
Declan: No bother, mate!
Devil: Fraser is well taken care off—it’s you who are in jeopardy. so, how about you stop playing games and GET ON WITH YOUR MATHS?
(Terrified, Declan meekly reaches over to his maths books and starts to study; there is a flash of light in the corner and the devil has gone.)
Aaron Baker & Declan Scott
YOU ARE READING
Hillside Anthology
FantastiqueA compilation of wrtitings gleaned from two Published Anthologies at Hillside Residential School. The stories published here are dualistic, light and dark and represents the students' writing at its best.
