The Devil Waits

It wasn't that the devil owned the night. It's just that so much beautiful destruction could occur under cover of darkness. 

He waited outside the inn watching her closely. The way she moved, her fragrance, her hair; every ounce of her flesh beckoned him to her. The moon shone brightly in the sky, full and low. Her pale skin looked too sallow in the day, but at night it reflected the soft moonlight in the most agonizing ways. 

He wanted to touch every inch of her skin. His fingers trembled at the thought. Just once, just one night when she was so pure, so white. He wanted to wreck that beauty. His mind was twisting images of her. In his mind he saw her naked and open before him. He paused and held his hands just a fraction above her breasts. Then in a moment of perverse pleasure he imagined it. 

His hand fell upon her silken skin. A finger traced a swirl of a line from the nape of her neck down her collar bone. The black streaks trailing behind. Her face so calm, her doe eyes wide watching him in horror as a scream wells up. The breath she can't take shocks her and her eyes widen in horror.

He smiles at the thought of tainting her this way. Then a heavy sigh escapes him. In reality the one thing he wants more would be to touch her again and see her smile from pleasure. This is his torture, his soul's deep desire split between pleasure and pain. Wanting to bring her harm and enjoying the visions of ways and means to do so tears at the small shreds of love left in his empty chest.

He loves her. True love. And the angel loved him. He remembers every moment they shared, every touch, every kiss and embrace. His arms remember the weight of her body. She is free to live without these memories that bind him. Spotless and pure. He is shackled to them, fated to remember for eternity.

The endless fight between the love he remembers and the hate for all that she stands for. Endless tugging between wanting to cherish and desiring her destruction. This is the torment for his sins. That he must forever bring her ultimate ruin again and again. Each time he hopes it will be their last dance and each time at the end he sees himself in her grief. His reflection in her eyes show him how she despises him. He sees her remember each time before, remember it all.

And each time she rejects him again. His wounds freshly cut by the look she has for him. Each time he hopes she will find it in her to forgive him, and each time he is denied. Thus they dance again and again through the millennia. 

He watches her blow the candles out. Her sweet face glowing in the window. She pauses and looks straight at him. His blue eyes pierce the black night. Lightning strikes and he is seen. She gasps and snatches the curtains closed. 

The rain has soaked the hem of his blue pants. He had seen enough for tonight and he walks away.

The Devil

“And behold, others he flattereth away … and he saith unto them: I am no devil, for there is none—and thus he whispereth in their ears, until he grasps them with his awful chains, from whence there is no deliverance.”

Introduction Revised

The angel fell to the ground weeping. She was full of grief, of love, of loss. A sound escaped her lips like a wounded and dying animal. She was just that. The weight of her knowledge oppressed her mind and soul. She knew too much, of that she was sure.

His body lay crumpled in the tall grass next to where she fell. Red stains were spreading like fire blooming across his white shirt. He never wore white; she thought as she lay in the grass inches from him. The look on his face was burned into her mind. He looked so peaceful and happy. She clamped her eyes shut again and felt her chest shake and catch as the weight of the night air pressed upon her. She felt sure that she could not continue to breathe.

She heard the crunch of the devil’s shoes upon the railroad tracks. He was laughing in a soft but merry sort of way. Her back was to him but every cell in her body screamed at him. This was his fault… no… it was hers. Flashes of anger and sorrow hit her again pounding her like a storm and pulling her heart down into her stomach.

“Get up.” He commanded.

She ignored him and lay there staring at her love.

‘I command thee to get up.” He repeated.

She felt her body jerk and twist. “No!” she screamed at him. “I will not do thy bidding Devil!”

He threw his head back and laughed from deep in his belly.

“Oh my love. But you just did.” He smiled and stepped up to her. The devil picked her up by her shoulders and stood over her. He smelled of earth and fire. It was far from being unpleasant, a compelling fragrance that was as retched as he was. The cuff of his blue pants just touched the flesh of her love’s hand. A black stain spread from that spot and spread deep into his cold skin. She turned her head into the devil’s chest to keep from seeing it.

The devil smelled her hair and slid his hands down her arms from her shoulders to her wrists. He spun her around as a gentleman would while waltzing with a fine lady. His arm slipped around her waist as she heard the metal chains tinkle like tiny bells. It should be alarming her that he was slowly binding her hands and feet but with each caress of his hands she felt her emotions draining. It was as if her heart had died on the grass with her love’s and she had cried her life out with each tear. Now she stood an empty shell bound and about to be led off to hell.

“Ah my love. This is always my favorite part of our dance. These moments when you are whole again and know me. These moments when I touch you and you know that I own you. I love the smell of lavender on your skin and in your dark hair. How your eyes flash green with despair and sorrow. It’s a pity that we never get enough time to fully enjoy this.” He leaned in and pressed her lips with his. He lingered and left black smoke trails where he kissed her. 

‘You know what happens now. Hold out your hand angel and kiss me goodbye again.” He brought her hand palm up, tilted her chin and kissed her deeply. She whimpered and took one last glance at her love. She had to remember his face. She had to remember how she got here and what she did. The devil bends over her love and they are auddenly both gone.

The angel stands alone in a field near railroad tracks. A solitary figure standing in the moonlight in a thin nightgown. Her dark hair whips in the wind. Her hand is stretched out, palm up ready to receive.

The shock of lighting striking her hand is amazing. Her assignment is given to her. A mission she must not fail at. 

His face is burned into her sight. She gasps at the image. He seems so familiar yet she has no real memory of him. It's clear and crisp. This is the man she is supposed to save.

A shiver travels down her spine and she feels a dark chill. Darkness has touched this man and she has little time left. She runs to her black horse waiting by the wooden fence posts. She pats her bags checking the tethers holding them. Tightening her grip, she vaults into her saddle urging him into motion. This would be a long ride to find him.

Angel's Assignment

My first attempt at drawing, scanning and adding photoshop color/effects...

The Crone

I arrived in the little town of Salem and really had no idea where to start looking for him. I decided to start by finding shelter for the night. The people in this town didn’t seem overly friendly to strangers but once I started talking, people are naturally put at ease. They can’t see that I am not human, but they all feel the warmth and glow I give off. It’s a similar effect for most demons. They look human but you can feel a tingle up your spine and a chill in the room when they enter. Of coarse the really nasty ones delight in letting humans see them for what they are.

I was told where the inn was and found it easily enough. I tied my horse up to the rail and walked through the heavy wooden doors. As soon as I entered the room I felt him. He stood behind the counter arguing with a woman. She was yelling and cursing him while he stood patiently. I watched with much interest. He did not yell at her but firmly told her that his mind was made up and he was not coming home.

Ah ha… she was his wife. What an odd paid they made. She was thin and tired looking, like she hadn’t eaten in many days. The scowl on her face had etched lines into her forehead and creases around her eyes. Her eyes had no love for him. His eyes had only sadness and a tired look of resignation. I was so wrapped up in their faces and body language I didn’t actually hear what they were arguing about. Other than he had said he was not going home to her.

She turned towards me and pushed me aside to leave the inn. It was almost as if I didn’t exist to her until her skin touched my shoulder. Then as if she had been stung by a bee she turned her head and whipped her cold eyes upon me. She scanned me from head to toe with a sneer and a look of contempt. I stepped back from her in shock. She grunted at me with a huff of air and quickly left the inn. The ugly crone seemed to be human but there was something very dark in her soul.

Introducing the Crone

I haven't decided but I think she has pointy teeth. She's pure evil and out to the the dark man to kill himself so the devil can have his soul. 

Inspiration:

Plot lines

I have the whole plot laid out with 38 sections / chapters. I'm still toying with the graphic novel idea. It would  take at least 74 illustrations. Gonna be a ton of work. I need my computer with Photoshop to work again.