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Devil's Bitch

Previous short story:
The Man Who Destroyed the World
Next short story:
Weird Night - Chapter 2

Devil’s Bitch

The little black kitten purred painfully from her slit-open stomach. I could see some remnants of anchovies in her intestines. The bright green eyes lost its shine. Chilling bullets of the wind blasted through the window and into my hollow body. As if it was an angel sent from Hell to retrieve the cat’s soul. In my hand, rests a little dagger dripping with blood. It is complete.

A slight warm stung my neck.


I turned to my back and fell. There was an overwhelmingly tall figure standing in front of me. He was breathing smokes, from his mouth and nostril – just like any religious painters’ imagination. I wondered if he has nine tits.

The man walked out of the shadows, he was holding a cigarette – a Marlboro Red. He looked as normal as any human can be, except he was wearing a black suit with tie in such an inappropriate place. He had that thin layers of shaved beard on his face and a slightly messy hair. He was a tall figure, and has a sharp face. It was just me in the small room – and the Devil himself.

“This better be good,” He checked his watch. He turned his head to me the way a pendulum ball would move. “What the hell do you want?”

I inched myself near the Devil. I smell fields of daisy and dandelions – plus a little smell of burning charcoal. I whispered to him.

I feel his eyes widen.


He threw his cigarette butt out the window and said, “But with great power comes greater form of apocalypse.” He draws out another stick. “You’ll be under my payroll.”

“I understand.”

“Go ahead and kill yourself. See if the deal works.” The Devil said, half-giggling as if an innocent child telling a lie.

“What? You mean –“

“Show me a little gut, will ya? Think it through, boy.”

He walked to the mutilated cat and picked up the feline. He stuffed it into his suit pockets and walked straight to the window.

“What are you going to do with it?” I asked.

“Dinner.” He answered.


It was already morning.

I arrived at the chilling embrace of my school’s gate. It was dawn; I was dumbfounded by the Devil’s request. I’m not afraid of killing myself. I was tired of the world, of their ignorant and violent ways of living life. People pull down people with higher position, humans are cannibalistic by nature. They devour each other. And I just realized that I was about to be devoured.

On my sight, stands a fat guy wearing his AC/DC shirt. He is known for bullying the weak, but licks the asses of the strong. What am I saying? Everyone in this world behaves like this. He walked near me; I could almost feel the universe shaking.

He clutched me on my shirt and pulled me towards him.

“Where’s my 50 bucks?” He said, stench of rotten hot dogs escaped his mouth.

“I don’t recall owing you any money.”

“I don’t care.”

He had been living on my orphanage sponsor since my first year. Every inch of fat on his body demands justice. They need to be freed. He took out a pair of steel scissors, holding it straight towards my eye.

He is trying to scare me. And in that moment, I just closed my eyes and smiled. How could anyone possibly scare me? After witnessing the world and the organisms living in it, all these were mere playthings.

“Didn’t your mom said not to play with scissors?” I said calmly. “You might cut your dick off.”

He screamed at me. His ego was challenged. I’m about to give him his ego back in a sudden gush. Just like water from a broken dam. I shall fulfil the Devil’s request.

I whispered to him, “Today is your judgement day.”

I pushed my neck forward, allowing the steel scissor blades to penetrate through me. I could see the frightened look on his face. He got his ego back. Blood and small chunks of my throat spilled through the gash on my neck. For a moment, I vomited blood through my throat. All I see was darkness.


The man in black suit stared down the grave in St. James Cemetery near the Klang Road. He looked at the words engraved on the stone that shaped like Twinkie cream cake: “Here lies an orphan.”

He smiled and pulled the trigger of his black umbrella above his head. Storms raged and rains fell. Flashes of lightning illuminated him for split second; the blaze on his cigarette glowed as brightly as ever.

And from the ground, appeared a pair of fists. A boy scratched through the dirt, eager to face the world again. Some people said the Devil was a magician. He brought people in the dirt back to life.

The rain washed away the filth from the boy.

The Devil opens his mouth, “I thought you never made it.”

And the boy answered, “You kept your end of the deal.”

The Devil said, “Let’s celebrate.”

“I’m hungry.”


And so to Kenny’s Place they went. The Devil smoked while the boy gazed at yesterday’s newspaper. The steak had just arrived; the boy thanked the hot waitress and put away the newspaper.

Written on the headlines of the newspaper were:


 “Schoolboy arrested on account of murder.


And little did the boy know; he had eight more lives as spare.

Previous short story:
The Man Who Destroyed the World
Next short story:
Weird Night - Chapter 2

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about the writer
Like what Neil Gaiman said, short stories can be like a magic trick. It provoke minds, it triggers wonder. I do look up to a writer with authentic ability to write his or her mind out. Screw cliches, its your emotions that matters.
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