Fire
The house was as dilapidated as the soul of its owner. Rust permeates the roof, dirty unkempt windows with finger-stains of urchins who dare venture the territory gave away what the townspeople knew all along: that Mr. Gragasin, seventy-eight years of age, is slowly dying of an unnamed malady.
Inside, walls which were once white now have a rotting yellow hue to them and the sound of the floor creaking was like the knell of a church bell announcing the impending funeral of a man in the throes of death.
A flight of stairs, the room on the farthest left, I enter Mr. Gragasin's room; an emaciated figure turns his head towards me, nodding weekly to acknowledge my presence. His nose was blackened and the rest of his body was covered with wounds from which secrete pus. "I've come to administer the last rites." I said, not without flinching a little at the stench of decay coming from his sores.
He seemed to have noticed my predicament for he jerked his arm a little to reach out for a blanket to cover himself. Then a shaking finger pointed to the little altar above his head. "Those didn't help, what makes you think you can?" He told me with a hint of sarcasm. I was taken aback and didn't have an answer for him. "Let's put it this way, you will be the last man to ever see me alive so let's cut the fat and get down to the meat. You want my story? I'll tell you my story." He said. I grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it closer to the bed to hear what he had to say.
"This town is abandoned. Dead. The fields are barren and the ponds dry. Livelihood is nada. I was a believer like you so I prayed to God that rain may come but it never did. Once, when the heat was so strong, a dry leaf started a fire in my backyard but I didn't put a stop to it, for some reason I was mesmerized. I watched closely until I heard a voice. Thunderous and loud. But I wasn't afraid, in the back of my mind I knew what it was and I had to make the deal." Here Mr. Gragasin stopped to let out a series of coughs. "What was it?" I urged him on. Finally, he spoke again, "It was the Devil himself. He told me that rain would come. I brought this curse upon myself. In exchange for rain, my body would deteriorate until I die and," he trailed on. "And what?" I said, half-shouting. "And the curse would simply live on." Again he started coughing. He covered his face for a while and I leaned closer to him.
There was a humming in my ears and suddenly all was silent. I looked down at his sorry figure. Dead. His face twisted with fear. I licked my lips. As long as there is sin and men falling to sin, I shall subsist. My belly is full. I am Lucifer. And you who read this, beware, for the wages of sin is death. I will come for you, there is no escape.
NOTE: Later that evening, for no apparent reason, Mr. Gragasin's house burned down to ashes. His remains were recovered, with the witnesses seeing shock plastered on what remained of his face. There were no signs of other individuals within the vicinity.
Inside, walls which were once white now have a rotting yellow hue to them and the sound of the floor creaking was like the knell of a church bell announcing the impending funeral of a man in the throes of death.
A flight of stairs, the room on the farthest left, I enter Mr. Gragasin's room; an emaciated figure turns his head towards me, nodding weekly to acknowledge my presence. His nose was blackened and the rest of his body was covered with wounds from which secrete pus. "I've come to administer the last rites." I said, not without flinching a little at the stench of decay coming from his sores.
He seemed to have noticed my predicament for he jerked his arm a little to reach out for a blanket to cover himself. Then a shaking finger pointed to the little altar above his head. "Those didn't help, what makes you think you can?" He told me with a hint of sarcasm. I was taken aback and didn't have an answer for him. "Let's put it this way, you will be the last man to ever see me alive so let's cut the fat and get down to the meat. You want my story? I'll tell you my story." He said. I grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it closer to the bed to hear what he had to say.
"This town is abandoned. Dead. The fields are barren and the ponds dry. Livelihood is nada. I was a believer like you so I prayed to God that rain may come but it never did. Once, when the heat was so strong, a dry leaf started a fire in my backyard but I didn't put a stop to it, for some reason I was mesmerized. I watched closely until I heard a voice. Thunderous and loud. But I wasn't afraid, in the back of my mind I knew what it was and I had to make the deal." Here Mr. Gragasin stopped to let out a series of coughs. "What was it?" I urged him on. Finally, he spoke again, "It was the Devil himself. He told me that rain would come. I brought this curse upon myself. In exchange for rain, my body would deteriorate until I die and," he trailed on. "And what?" I said, half-shouting. "And the curse would simply live on." Again he started coughing. He covered his face for a while and I leaned closer to him.
There was a humming in my ears and suddenly all was silent. I looked down at his sorry figure. Dead. His face twisted with fear. I licked my lips. As long as there is sin and men falling to sin, I shall subsist. My belly is full. I am Lucifer. And you who read this, beware, for the wages of sin is death. I will come for you, there is no escape.
NOTE: Later that evening, for no apparent reason, Mr. Gragasin's house burned down to ashes. His remains were recovered, with the witnesses seeing shock plastered on what remained of his face. There were no signs of other individuals within the vicinity.
No comments: