Mr. Cuddlekins

Midnight was the ideal time for a shady guest. Shortly after typing those comments, Scott heard a knock at his flat door. It was presumably one of his inebriated college friends inviting him out for a round. Scott now had a day job and spent his evenings honing his writing skills; he had neither the time nor the money to go out to bars, but every time he stated this, his friends would show him a list of authors who were also alcoholics.

Scott grumbled and slammed open the door after approaching it. When he saw the apparition in front of him, a tall figure wearing a tailored suit, a wide-brimmed hat, and a depth of black that strained Scott's eyes, he was forced to stop. The metal serpent head knob at the top of the man's cane glistened in blue light reflecting from the computer screen.

Please let me in, good evening. The man's voice had waves in it.

If I didn't know better, I'd say you're the Devil Himself," Scott retorted.

Correct. Please let me in. The Devil, the man, spoke gently.

Rolling his eyes, Scott. The devil, however, is different. Oh sure, I bar the door against thieves, murderers, and the repo man." For the demon to enter, he moved out of the way. "Dear Satan, just stroll on in.

The devil entered and took a seat on Scott's futon's lone spot which was neat. Scott growled at him, but the devil just sat there and looked. "Sarcasm is not recognized by the preacher natural's timeless laws. Please take a seat.

He reflected Scott would probably be dead by now if the devil had it in for him. He then sat cross-legged in his chair and shut the door. What number should I provide you?

I go by several names, but I don't hold on to any of them too tightly. Call me whatever you want.

Sure. Do you think, perhaps, Mr. Cuddlekins would be okay?

As you desire. Yes, I'm here on business, Mr. Johnson. No, a cup of tea would be welcome.

I'm sorry, buddy, but I'm out of Earl Grey.

Scott didn't witness how it happened, but it didn't matter; Mr. Cuddlekin was holding a cup of steaming liquid that was perched on a saucer. The black cup and saucer shone except for a cartoon rabbit on one side of the cup and pink cursive writing beneath it that read Mr. Cuddlekins.

Mr. Cuddlekins remarked, "I understand your desire to be a writer.

Yes, but I work a regular job that helps me pay my bills, so I'm not selling my soul, I say.

I see. Mr. Cuddlekins prodded the fast food chain uniform on the ground with his cane. "Scott would put on the monkey suit for the early shift in a few sleepless hours. You are content with your life and don't have a place for anything more. Sleep, more money, and possibly an occasional trip to Hawaii.

Scott complained, Right now, Mr. Cuddlekins, you're the one robbing me of sleep.

Scott resisted saying, "I hardly think you were about to turn in for the night since he knew Mr. Cuddlekins was right.

I'm not sure what you've heard about me, Mr. Johnson, but your master's in English literature taught you, I'm sure, that legends are often twisted even though they are frequently grounded in reality. I am only a businessman with more authority than most; I am not the pure evil of fairy tales.

Mr. Cuddlekins made a scowl. It has been increasingly difficult to keep up in recent years because, of that dreadful CEO of the major online bookstore, you know who I mean. I will take care of him when the time is right, supernatural abilities or not. I'm here to make a deal proposal.

Do you want my eternal soul in return for my writing success? High-fiving a tiny bit? You could begin by offering me a timeshare of my soul or the soul of my first cat, which wouldn't make me laugh you out of my flat.

No, I don't want your eternal soul; I only bargain for full human souls. Mr. Johnson, eternity does not exist. For as long as you live, I simply want your soul.

Scott gave this new knowledge some thought. Just as long as I am alive? Compared to all time, that is considerably superior. Whether or not Mr. Cuddlekins believed in eternity, I might be able to get a nice bargain out of this.

But he understood the catch—the stooge was notorious for missing tiny contractual nuances. "Listen, please. What would I receive in return?

Writing career financial success. I'm afraid I can't promise any critical success. Critics love to use their own free will. So, in return for my soul for the remainder of my earthly life, you'll make sure my writing is appreciated and compensated generously enough that I can write part-time without a second job? sufficient for everything I require and a lavish annual trip to Hawaii?

Correct. Nothing else is attached to your soul besides that. You faithfully accepted my offer.

Scott was aware that in fairy tales, the fool who strikes a deal with the devil loses in the end, but this devil looked different. How much could he lose if his soul wasn't eternal?

Scott held out his hand and said, Mr. Cuddlekins, you've got a deal.

Splendid. Mr. Cuddlekins handed Scott his cup and saucer before advancing briskly to the door. Expect the cheques to start arriving shortly, Mr. Johnson. Have fun writing.

Then Mr. Cuddlekins opened the door for himself. Scott grinned broadly as he collapsed on the futon after quickly locking the door. The difficult days would end. He would rest to rejoice.

Still only halfway full, Mr. Cuddlekins' cup. When Scott gave it a smell, he detected fruit. He took a small sip from the clean side. tea with hints of apple and cardamom. The remainder was poured down the toilet, and Scott passed out on the futon.

After a few months, Scott's writing career began to flourish. His stories were well received everywhere, and the money flowed. He wrote quickly, savoring each moment, and exulted at finally finding the success he had been searching for for so long. He liked working as a freelance writer, and the money he earned was enough to pay for all he needed and more, including the extravagant trip to Hawaii of which he had always dreamed.

But as the years went by, Scott realized that he was still unable to achieve critical success. Although he achieved financial success, literary circles frequently disregarded or criticized his writing. He was first troubled by it, but he had already made his decision and couldn't go back.

Simple, Scott's deathbed was in a dark, empty room with just a straight-backed wood chair in which Genie was sitting. She held his arthritic, wrinkled hands that had typed countless novels and thousands of short tales. Each publishing house declared bankruptcy soon before the release of each work despite receiving an advance.

I guess thick and thin, you've been my constant buddy, Scott remarked haltingly.

Genie grinned while crying. Scott, I've read your stuff. There is untapped potential there.

I'm getting close. If I put in just a little bit more work, I'll start making money. Once you see my byline, stop by and say hello.

Genie made an effort to maintain her composure, but she was struggling because she knew what Scott couldn't. She'd never get to see his byline. The price of the devil's bargain was high.

As the days passed, Scott's health quickly deteriorated. Genie frequently paid him visits and read his most recent stories to him in the hopes that he would find comfort in her words. But she was aware of the devil's tenacious hold.

One day, Scott's expression changed. I've done my final and best piece, Genie. It is intended for you.

Although Genie was moved, she couldn't help but feel sad. She was aware that the devil's bargain had a high cost.

Scott gave Genie a feeble smile as his life faded away. Leave now, my love. Because of you, I have had a happy life.

As Genie leaned in and kissed Scott's forehead, she refrained from crying. Scott, now go to bed. Your words have been a gift to the world.

Genie clutched Scott's laptop in her hands after he passed away, cherishing the final project he had made for her. She was aware of the agreement he had made and was overcome by a sense of both loss and thankfulness. Scott had achieved writing success, but it had come at a cost.

She discovered the true depth of Scott's love for her when she opened the laptop and started reading his final masterpiece. It was a lovely and eerie story that reflected their time together and demonstrated the depth of his affections.

Genie read each syllable while wiping tears from her eyes as she took in how Scott's soul was infused into each phrase. She could almost feel his presence next to her while she read since the laptop seemed to exude a warm glow.

But just as she finished reading the narrative, the laptop caught fire. Genie dropped it after being startled, and the ensuing fire swiftly spread, engulfing the laptop and everything nearby.

Genie gasped as she saw the tall, black-clad person that had emerged from the center of the flames. Lucifer!

Lucifer grinned, an otherworldly light shining in his eyes. My love, I gave you a chance. However, you resisted giving up what was legitimately yours.

Genie had a mixture of fear and rage as her heart raced. You can't take his soul, I promise!

Lucifer, though, only grinned. I'm not here to save Scott's soul, my love. He closed the deal, and I now own him.

So, what do you desire? Genie demanded, attempting to maintain her position.

Lucifer gestured at the still-burning laptop. I'm available for it. It's a piece of his soul and the only gift he believed he could give you.

The laptop was tightly clasped to Genie's chest, and she wouldn't let go. Not allowed! He created the tale for me. He could only show his enduring affection in that way.

Lucifer grinned more broadly. Ah, the writing, I see. He would have become the literary world's posthumous toast as a result. However, my darling, the deal is a contract.

No! Genie shouted, but the flames around her were unabated.

Flames appeared to dance around Lucifer as he drew nearer. My beloved, eternity does not exist. only the present moment.

The flames grew more intense and started to engulf Genie as he extended a gloved hand. She dropped the laptop out of desperation, and as it landed, the fire went out.

Lucifer grinned jubilantly. "I had a feeling you'd come around.

Tears were rolling down Genie's cheeks as she gazed at the burned remnants of the laptop. Even if you took his soul, you couldn't remove his love from me, he said.

For a brief while, Lucifer's smile waned before he burst out laughing. My dear, love is a transient sensation. However, your chance has passed. I'm off. There's always a deal to close next.

Genie held the burned remains of the laptop close to her bosom as Lucifer faded into nothingness. Even though it had been shattered, she would always carry in her heart the memories of Scott's love. She was aware that Lucifer could never take that away.