The Devil's Playground

“I’m dead!” Nigel gulped. He looked around. He’d known all along, and yet it hadn’t seemed possible. “So you must be...?”

“I am Baalberith, Secretary of the Archives of Hell and Demon of Blasphemy and Murder at your service,” said the stranger, and he gave a deep bow.

“But why?” Nigel wailed.

“Oh, I am sorry, but only our top sinners get checked in by the Lord Satan Himself. You know, war criminals, serial killers, personal injury lawyers...“

“No! I meant, why am I here? When I did so much for all those good causes? It’s not fair!”

“Life’s not fair. Neither’s death. But, if you really need an explanation.... Let me see, it’s all in your file. Yep, quite a long list, my friend. I see you’ve done a bit of coveting - your neighbour’s car, his house. And his wife. Adultery with the aforementioned. Keeping the Sabbath holy? Epic fail there. Oh, and then there’s the small matter of beating a man to death. Although...”





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