Lights Out

Beer for the Devil

Caleb wanted to go home. He had pulled a double shift covering for a coworker and all he wanted to do was fall into his bed and sleep. He decided it was time for last call; there were only a few patrons left in the bar anyway. Caleb made his way around the tables and most, though drunk, acquiesced and Caleb called them all cabs home.

But one patron wasn't moving from his bar stool. He was dressed in black tie attire, a top hat even sitting beside his whiskey. Caleb decided to give him a couple of minutes to finish his drink while he put up chairs and cleaned glasses. The patron watched him with amused eyes and Caleb couldn't help but wonder what was so amusing about closing up shop. Then again, the man was drinking top shelf liquor and wearing an obviously tailored, high end label suit. Normal life probably was amusing to him.

Caleb put the last glass away and turned to the man at the bar. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm closing up now. You'll have to leave."

The man took another slow sip of his drink, licking his lips methodically. "I'll have a beer, before I go. Chase down what's left."

His voice was smooth like a jazz singer and suddenly, Caleb wanted to hear him sing. "I've closed the register for the night. I'm sorry, but the bar is closed now. I can call you a cab if you'd like."

The man smiled, enjoying this banter. "I will pay double the price for your most expensive beer. I've had a long night, you see."

Caleb glanced at the time. It was already half an hour past closing. And yet, he found himself grabbing a bottle of beer from the fridge under the bar, cracking the top before sliding it to the man. "It's on the house if you take it to go."

Now, the man in the fancy suit laughs in Caleb's face. It was a hearty life, like he truly thought it was a funny joke. "Now that's what I like about you people. Always willing to shuffle people about to make your own deadlines. Come, sit. Tell me your troubles."

The seat beside him screeched back. He hadn't touched it, both hands are clasped around the bottle. The seat shouldn't have moved. "Look, buddy, I don't know what your game is-"

"Ah, that's just the point, isn't it? It isn't a game. I don't play...games." His lips sneered on that word. His teeth were too white for Caleb's liking. "I play life, dear Caleb. Because life is its own cruel game with its own cruel rules."

Caleb pulled his shirt but then remembered he forgot his name tag today. It was attached to his other shirt in his hamper, and this guy definitely wasn't a regular. "Alright, how do you know my name? Did you speak with my wife or something?"

He held up a finger, grinning ear to ear. "Ex-wife, you mean? No, I haven't spoken with Cathy. Nice girl, though why she fell for you I'm not sure still."

Caleb felt the blood drain from his face. "How do you know Cathy? How do you know my life?"

The man tsked, the twinkle never leaving his eye. "Now, now. It would do you no good to get demanding with me. I'm here to help but I won't if you disrespect me."

He sighed, not sure of what else he could do. "How can you help me? My wife hates me, I don't have any family left...this bar is the only happy thing I have left."

"What would you say if I could make it more successful? Lines of patrons out the door, top shelf liquor sold every night. Pretty girls to flirt with, maybe become the next Mrs. Caleb Whitmore. I can make every dream a possibility...for one, small price."

Caleb finally sat beside the stranger, who pushed the untouched beer bottle under his nose. Caleb drank gratefully. "I barely have enough to make rent every month. I have no money to give you."

The man's eyes flashed. He gripped the table eagerly, his face coming mere inches from Caleb's nose. He reeked of onions and rot. "Lucky for you, I don't require money. You humans, believing money solves every problem. Let me make myself very clear, if you agree to let me help you then tomorrow when you wake it will be as if you never had a mundane day in your life. If you decide not to take me up on this, your soul remains yours and you can walk away to your lonely bed and live your lonely life. What do you say?" He held his hand out for Caleb to shake.

Caleb swallowed. He knew who this man was now. "And what happens to my soul when I die?"

The Devil grinned, and then all Caleb could see was wall to wall flames and the heat made his skin feel like it was melting off his bones. His hair was nothing more than ash on his scalp and huge red welts burned and broke open on his arms and legs. He wanted to scream but when he opened his mouth embers jumped down his throat and sat like angry frogs, suffocating and burning him from the inside out.

He felt pinned to the floor from his terror. The fire ate away at his clothes and skin until he could swear there was nothing left of him. And then, when he thought he was nothing more than ash and dust, the flames would burn brighter and hotter and singe away the rest of Caleb. He was no more and as he burned, he thought, "He didn't really want to make a deal. He was going to take my soul anyway. I want to go home."

"What do you say?" He held his hand out for Caleb to shake.

The memories of the fire seemed to be only a bad dream. Caleb ran his hands along his arms but it was only hairy skin. He was fine, he was back in the bar sitting beside the Devil as if his trip never happened. It felt like years in that cycle of fire and ash but maybe only a second had passed.

Caleb took the Devil's hand.