and the devil died screaming — Chapter Three

Ultra-High Book One: A cyberpunk / dystopian fantasy

As I pulled up my drive, I could see my house and chimney were billowing smoke. I hadn’t lit a fire since the smoke ban. This made leaving my shotgun in the house seem like a stupid idea. I remembered I had a crowbar in the back seat.

I got out of the car, grabbing the crowbar. In the mood for trouble. I was always the same after a day of occupational banality. Pinned down corporate clown one day of every month. Raging Bull Taxi Driver by night. I could hear Tom Waits howling from the Bose and taste the scent of great food. I stopped in my tracks and laid the crowbar up against the door frame, suddenly my mood had changed as the smells teased my taste buds and my belly rumbled. I walked in, a smile teasing its way through the corner of my mouth. My nostrils filled with the scent of great cooking and my belly rumbled some more.

Walking in, warm air hit my face whilst a sharp cold bite held on to my back for dear life, until fading and dying. Soaking in the warmth the door closed behind me. I stood until my bones felt comfortable, and the chilled edge wore away from my spine. I walked in further and could hear them whistling to the music. This made me grit my teeth for a second as there is little I hate more than the sound of happy whistling, especially when it is out of time and out of tune to the song I am trying to listen to. Fortunately, Tom was growling about being the loud enough for me to focus on that more than the intrusion that came from the direction of the kitchen.

I passed the dining room table with as much interest in it as I could muster and hoped it didn’t show. As I walked into the kitchen, I picked up the swagger of a man about to do something terrible but noteworthy, and that’s when I saw them. They were sadly no longer the skull I once knew and hated. Stood before me, their back to me, was the fully formed silhouette of the physical antipathy of the one they call The Beast. They were washing some utensils in the sink as far as I could tell. The euphoria of what I was not was playing havoc within the outer regions of my mind, but I tried to suppress it and pay it no heed. They were busy pretending to be unaware of my presence, and I enjoyed the illusion of it.

I stood there smelling the sweet scent of food cooking. I grabbed a half-decent glass from the cabinet that found itself adjacent to me. From the five-pound plastic carrier bag of my local automated co-op, I retrieved one of the bottles of wine. Luckily it was a twist cap and, therefore, no unscrewing of the cork would require me to descend into the kitchen and their presence further. For this, I was thankful. I felt annoyed and nervous in the same bounds. I poured myself a glass of Malbec and sat back at the dining room table. I had rolled myself a cigarette with a little something extra in it.

I lit the cigarette and found a bowler hat to use as an ashtray as Tom howled and dragged a chair in the distance. I couldn’t help thinking that if they were my lover that would, right at that moment, be the perfect way to arrive home from a day full of boredom and irrelevance necessitated by my service to the corporatocracy. But instead, I had the devil, the embodiment of evil, whom I once had tortured and killed in a most horrific way who was now by all accounts preparing to cook me dinner. This all begged more questions than there could possibly ever be answers.

I sat there smoking and drinking, listening to Tom, and was, at least, three glasses in before the devil turned around and even acknowledge my presence. Somehow, I felt that they had planned it that way.

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This is a live cyberpunk / dystopian fantasy book writing project. Copyright is protected. It is a first rough draft so I would love to hear any feedback from readers. When the book is launched all that are signed up for this to my mailing list on the website below you will be sent a free Kindle copy of the book as a thank you for subscribing.

This project is part of the writing projects from my site sleeplessdystopian.com