Short Story Contest from Fan Story – never sought details because the message was placed in my 'Bulk' folder on Yahoo! and there was an attachment on the message, so I was afraid of any links in the e-mail. However, thought the challenge was interesting, so decided to humor it.   The following story contains mature themes and was inspired by the movie Constantine (rated R for violence and 'demonic images'). Read at your own discretion.   ~~ Trapped   Hell found me. I suppose it had been foolish thinking, hoping to escape one of the two Higher Powers.  But hope is by nature foolish.  Looking back on the early days, I often wonder where I first drew my hope from – little existed then that could keep me going.  Maybe it was just that primal instinct coded into my brain, my heart.  Survival. I knew, after that night, that I would never be free again.  I knew I'd spend the rest of my life running. I wanted to do that now. My feet readied to spring forward, my hips waiting to turn my legs around to follow the path of escape. But my eyes locked on the figure before me – and they anchored me to my destiny. "Don't try to run," he said – more like a musing suggestion. A casual warning: go ahead and run, it really said, so I can catch you with more flare. But if he couldn't show his physical power, he'd scald me with theatrical dialogue he'd prepared ever since that night. "No," he continued, "you've more gall than that."  His eyes still dared me to run. "You have me trapped," I spat – although to my own ears it sounded more like 'choked'.  "Now do what you will." I tried to raise my chin defiantly, ready for my fate.  But something nagged at the back of my mind.  A little voice, sent to wear down my hope. He's not going to kill you. "I intend to." He walked sideways, and as he did, his bare feet left burning footprints on the asphalt.  The cars that had collided in the street still blazed behind him, but in the distance, the wailing sound of fire trucks and police cars heralded its arrival. "We're coming," they screamed to the damned. "Hang on" – their message wasted on my condemned ears. As he continued to circle me, his footprint sparks blazed into a line of fire. The comics and cartoons were always wrong about him. His skin is not red, he has no horns, no tail, no pitchfork.  Well – he could if he wanted to.  But on Earth he took the body of a man. The burned soles of his feet were the only trademark of his being that carried through – the devil's mark. He could not walk on Earth in his true form – I had never found out why. He closed his circle and stepped inside the ringlet of fire. To hide our conversation, most likely. The fire trucks pulled in, the police already jumped from their cars.  No one neared the circle of fire. "You have other work here tonight," I said, my eyes glancing towards the crash and an emerging victim. "Victor White." "Not an obligation of a higher duty," he said, showing a smile. I glanced back at him. "Of course." "I want to know something." He paused. "Before you go." "What?" "How have you eluded me all these years?"  His eyes blazed into mine, as if they could burn a hole in my thoughts.  "He would not intervene.  You're branded. Why save you?" "He didn't." "I thought so."  He clasped his hands behind his back, as if this was a theoretical conversation between philosophers or scientists. Not that I'd ever met any – just seen them in movies.  "How, then?" The hell if I knew.  I'd been wondering that myself. But he misinterpreted my silence. "Don't think you'll take even one secret to the grave, boy – " Boy – but I was forty-seven years old.  But compared to eternity… " – tell me how." I swallowed, trying to think of something. But should I cower in my own, knowing my fate?  Couldn't I at least go down like a hero, even if no one would ever grant me that title? "Can't eternity wait?" I heard myself say; I had no time to regret it. My knees hit the asphalt.  I didn't realize glass littered the road until my hands scraped across it. Bright red burned the back of my eyelids until it faded into thirty years ago. The bag was heavy in my hands, the coins jingled their betrayal. The concrete sidewalk slapped force through my feet into my knees as I pounded around the corner. Chipping black paint loomed before me; I rushed into the building before I knew what it was.  A factory – abandoned, falling down.  I raced through it, out the back door, down the pier. Water – the harbor.  It sloshed against the pier as if it could lick up at me and pull me down. The wood splintered and dust fell into the water. I turned back to the building. Up stairs – I wasn't even thinking about where I was going, just that maybe up would be a good idea.  Find a place to hide. Red light streamed through the broken panels of wood on the far side of the factory. I found the office and slipped in. A desk – cover.  Perfect.  I threw myself to the ground to crawl under. Whimpering behind me.  Who? I whirled – a little boy, crying.  He'd give me away.  I tossed the money in the corner and leaped towards him.  He cried out seconds before I got my hand over his mouth. The factory's front door fell open; I heard the wood break and slam against the ground.  Troops rushed in. "Shit!" The boy whimpered again behind my hand.  Someone was running up the stairs – with my left hand – the free one – I pulled out my gun and fired before I saw his face.  It was easier that way. The man fell, his face staring up at me – blue eyes open and blank, surprised.  My aim had been perfect… blood gushed from his chest. "Shit!" The boy slipped from my hand and slunk towards the man.  He shouted something in another language and wept.  Though I didn't bother to watch, the image lingered in the back of my mind like a charred stake. But I had moved on.  The only window in the room shattered and the chair arced into the water. By the time it splashed I'd leaped out – and was gripping the window sill with glass cutting into my finger tips.  I looked down – boxes below me, close enough to make the fall safe. I dropped and landed.  I heard other cops racing into the room, rushing towards the window.  My legs sprung from the boxes and I landed on asphalt, running towards a neighborhood.  Shots barely nipped my legs and feet. I shot back; my shots hit the boxes.  I heard the sound of something igniting behind me.  It didn't register until much later. Behind the first row of houses to my right was a forest; I ran towards the first house, but a girl came running out the front door. "Vater!" she shouted.  "Vater – Achim – er hat gegangen – er …" Tears were spilling from her eyes and she'd wrapped herself in an old gray blanket.  Her brown hair was tangled and messy.  But when she saw my face, she stopped, then looked at the factory. It was burning behind me.  The boy's face appeared in the window – and then fell away as the second story collapsed. "Achim!" the girl breathed, stepping forward slightly. Flames danced in her eyes as she watched the factory fall in on itself. I turned to watch the destruction. One man walked through the flames, his burning feet leaving glowing footprints on the concrete.  As his eyes met mine, my hand burned where it touched my gun.  I dropped it in the grass, but not in time. Out of the corner of my eye I felt the girl look at me, and then in the direction of the man. "Was sehen Sie?" she asked, but I couldn't answer. But the man turned his eyes to her, and when he did she gasped and fell back. "Mein Gott!" Then her eyes flicked to something behind him – I never saw what.  I assumed then it was the burning factory, but she nodded and grabbed my right hand. "Kommen Sie mit!" she shouted. "What?"  I looked back at the man, who was approaching faster. "Kommen Sie mit!" she shouted, and then she tried to pull me to follow.  I relented, with one last look back. "The girl!" I heard him shout, and my conscious drifted back to the present. He'd rifled through my memory, dredging that night up to the surface. I had no idea what he was talking about. "What?" "The girl."  He smiled, his angry curiosity suppressed once more to be replaced by smug comprehension. "What the hell are you talking about?" He shot me a reproving glare.  "Don't curse to my domain." Then he crossed his arms and looked me over.  "You really don't know." I glared back at him. "How interesting." He smiled to himself – a thin lipped, no-teeth grin. "How very interesting." The fire parted behind him and he turned to look, almost as if he'd pushed back curtains to look out at the scenery. A girl on the ground, the paramedics trying to shock her heart awake. Past her and her crumpled car, a blonde man watched. His green eyes flickered from the girl to the hole in the flames.  He saw me and smirked.  But the cops cuffed him – drunk driving – and he returned his attention to his own situation. "Victor's only a man," he said, backing away from the flames to give me a better view. "But look at that destruction." I snorted. "Unimpressed?" His gaze fell again on me.  "No, I suppose man has more extravagant disasters to his name for a car wreck to place any signature on the heart." "It's your doing," I gritted. His eyebrows shot up.  "No, James, it's not my doing." He walked forward until his silhouette blocked her from my view. "I only offer the suggestions. It's man who makes the decision.  You have your god to thank for that." He chuckled to himself, then snorted and turned away.  "I knew they'd come." His eyes narrowed. I tried to look around him but he moved to block my view. "You can't see them. They'd blind you.  I don't want damaged goods so soon in your employment." "No – " "Don't bother resistance." "I'm not going to – " "I know, you've 'already done enough of my bidding'."  He looked back at me. "Hell found you thirty years ago and ever since you've been condemned. Yes – one act condemns you.  One thoughtless act…" He bent over and grabbed my face.  His hands burned my skin, and then his lips touched mine. The fire rushed through my bloodstream and left before there was time to scream. The pain scorched my mind but left before I could remember the feeling.  When it was gone, I felt nothing but coldness. Emptiness. Except, floating in the debris of my soul, was one thought. Finish the job. I rose from the ground, feeling the cuts and burns healing into scars. I walked forward, through the parting of the flames. My shadow fell over hers.  The paramedics had abandoned her by now – she was dead. To them. Her blue eyes opened and stared at me. Afraid at first – only startled. Then she rose. Her skin had paled and seemed to glow slightly.  If I touched her now, I'd destroy her. "James, stop." My hand paused halfway towards her neck. Finish the job! My hand moved forward again, but slowly, as if it must penetrate a deep layer of something thick. "Please," I heard her say. I knew it wasn't directed to me though.  Her eyes had flickered upwards. "Please." And then they looked back at me, and she smiled warmly.  Her hand reached out towards mine and grabbed it. My left hand.  She turned it over and traced the burns from the gun with her finger. "Vater," she said. I hadn't seen her in twenty-one years, but when she spoke a part of me that had been lost recognized her. Her eyes searched into mine. "God forgives you because he must."  She grabbed my other hand.  "I forgive you because you need me to."  She grimaced. "I know it sounds corny to you – it doesn't make sense.  Achim told me you were lost. He told me you'd taken a few wrong turns and needed guidance.  I did everything Achim asked because with mother gone he needed me to." But… "I know. It is too difficult for a person like you to understand. I cannot tell you with words."  Her hands dropped mine and went to my face. Cool palms erased the burns. Her lips brushed my forehead.  "You are forgiven.  Rest in peace." The emptiness filled with something that felt like lead. As it poured through me, she unfurled her wings – soft, bright feathers that pushed away the stars. She smiled, then lifted up, and was gone. The lead now filled me, and I felt my particles burst apart. They drifted away to run on the wind, sleep in the grass, play in the sun. Hell found me. But heaven took me. ~~ Return... ...to my LiveJournal ...to the site index ...to sanity!* *Deepest apologies, but sanity's servers are temporarily down.