Here’s a story I wrote for the Halloween issue of an online magazine. It wasn’t accepted for publication, and I’m not sure it has better chances elsewhere, so I’m sharing it with all of you.
I did not want to be at this party.
Cheap beer, cheap pizza, and cheap liquor were spread out for the guests to help themselves. The living room had been turned into a dance floor and the music was far too loud to enjoy having a conversation. A few couples had sneaked upstairs for obvious reasons, no doubt hoping the alcohol they had consumed would act as an aphrodisiac. I’m sure they quickly found out that it only made things more clumsy and awkward.
As a child and teenager, I loved Halloween. I wore an elaborate homemade costume and went trick-or-treating every year. But then my friends and I got older and nobody wanted to play make- believe or score candy anymore. They just wanted to get drunk and flirt with guys. I went to a couple of parties, but by the time I reached senior year Halloween had lost all of its magic. It wasn’t fun anymore. I hadn’t been to a single party since then.
Until I got this invitation. The chair of the science department told me that he was going to have a few people over for drinks and dancing on Halloween and I was welcome to come. I—surprising myself in the process—agreed to pop in. Maybe it was being a single woman who hadn’t gone on a date in eighteen months that spurred me on. Any chance to meet someone halfway interesting was a welcome opportunity. I joked about not having a costume and was assured that one wasn’t necessary.
I was the only one not in costume, and it didn’t take long to figure out that I was the only one not having fun. I found myself wishing I was at home streaming stand-up comedy and eating mac and cheese straight from the pot. So I got up from my seat in the living room and attempted to slip out unnoticed.
But as I walked out, I noticed somebody new at the buffet. I didn’t recognize him as one of my coworkers. All of the other guests were in public education in some way; he clearly did not fit that particular bill. He was dressed too nicely for one thing: he wore a blood-red suit far fancier than any teacher could afford, with a matching tie resting against a shimmering red silk shirt. His black hair was medium length, he had a neatly trimmed beard, and he wore numerous silver rings on his fingers. His nails were painted black to match his eyeliner and smoky eye shadow, which stood out like a raven in a snowy field against his pale skin.
He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.
He poured some bourbon into a plastic cup and sipped it. He wrinkled his face in obvious disgust and poured the liquor out right onto the floor before setting the cup down on the table. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a mirror-polished flask to take a sip. It was then that he looked right at me: full eye contact, nobody standing behind me or between us, and nothing to distract him.
I felt my chest tighten and my face and neck went flush. He started walking toward me and I struggled to breathe for a moment. He was within arm’s length and my mouth was dry. He extended his hand to me and the world around us seemed to melt away. When he spoke, I had no problem hearing him over the cacophonous music.
“Hello,” he said, his voice buttery and sweet and deep. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
I shook his hand and gave him my name. “Deliah.”
“My name is Drake.”
Of course his name was Drake, and not Tim or Sam or Mike. “So, what are you dressed up as?” I said a silent prayer to whatever god may be listening that my voice didn’t quiver.
He smiled, slowly and broadly and with every tooth in his mouth. “I’m the Devil. And you?”
I laughed. Another silent prayer that I wasn’t the queen of awkwardness. “I’m a high school English teacher who can’t stand Halloween parties.”
“That’s oddly specific.”
“I spent four years coming up with the idea and the past eight years of my life practicing the part.” Was that a funny joke? Did I sound witty and clever?
Drake took another sip from his flask and offered it to me. “Well, your preparation has paid off. You play the part well.”
I took the flask and put it to my lips. I hated drinking behind other people and never drank behind strangers, but Drake didn’t seem like a stranger. It felt like he was a close friend who had become distant but we had reconnected and I was ready to pick things up where we had left off. The liquor inside the flask burned at the perfect temperature as it flowed across my tongue, down my throat, and into my stomach. It was sweet and spicy in the perfect ratio. I was no connoisseur, but this wasn’t the swill that our host was serving. This was some premium top-shelf whiskey. “Wow,” I said when I had recovered from the experience. “That’s excellent.”
I returned the flask. In one fluid motion, he took another sip, capped it, and returned it to his inner pocket. “It’s from my family distillery. Private label. Not available for commercial purchase.”
“I can’t just go to the liquor store and buy a bottle?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“So how does somebody get some?”
He winked. I melted. “Connections.” He turned sideways and held out his elbow, all old-fashioned-like. “Would you like to leave this pandemonium and take in the moonlight with me?”
I took his elbow and let him guide me to the front porch.I noticed that he smelled like pipe tobacco and cinnamon. We sat on the steps, closer than I thought we would but not quite touching. The street lamps gave an amber glow to the sidewalk and street beyond the front yard. It was slightly chilly and the wind gently caressed my cheeks. All of a sudden, it was a perfect Halloween night.
Three children of various ages turned toward the house, each one wearing a costume. There was a witch, a skeleton, and a pumpkin-headed monster. They carried plastic pails and were giggling with the energy of a true sugar high. They came up to us and squealed, in unison, “Trick or treat!”
I smiled as politely as I could manage. “I’m sorry, I’m afraid we don’t have any candy.”
Before I had finished speaking, Drake had reached into the pocket inside his jacket and pulled out three king-size chocolate bars. “My, what frightening creatures!” he gasped, his charming smile on full display. “I hope I don’t have nightmares tonight.” He dropped a candy bar into each of their pails. They shouted their thanks as they turned away.
I cocked my eyebrow at him. “Wow, you’ve got all kinds of surprises in that pocket don’t you?”
“You’ve no idea,” he purred. “So, you teach English. What’s your favorite book?”
“That I teach?”
“I didn’t specify.”
I shrugged. “That’s like asking a parent to pick their favorite child.”
“I have. Frequently. You’d be surprised how many answer without hesitation.”
I laughed again. Up and out went another prayer that I wasn’t being awkward. “I read ‘Pride and Prejudice’ every year. I’ve read that book more than any other book I’ve ever read.”
“I take it you had a college crush on the aloof yet charming Mr. Darcy?”
“I did!”
“Every woman does.”
“Not every woman. Most of my classmates hated it and thought he was an asshole.”
Drake smiled his million-dollar smile again. “All the best men are.”
I wanted to kiss him. I fought the urge to do so. I had never kissed a man on impulse before (women were different, somehow) and I didn’t want to start tonight. Instead, I took my focus off of his lips and onto his eyes. It was just as torturous. What was it about this man that was so intoxicating? “So,” I managed to say, “you’re dressed up as the Devil?”
He laughed. “My dear, I’m not dressed up as the Devil. I am the Devil.”
“Wow, you’re committed to this character.”
“There is no character. I am the Devil. Satan, Lucifer, the King of Hell, the Father of Lies and the Master of Serpents. I have come to Earth on this night to find a willing vessel for my seed, the Antichrist.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, whatever. Anyway, how did you get invited to this party? I don’t recognize you from work.”
“The Devil is always invited where there is debauchery. Wherever humans are engaging in their base desires you will find me. I am everywhere all at once.”
I had lost count of the number of red flags this man was displaying. He was clearly delusional, probably into some weird occult stuff, and had probably drugged at least one woman’s drink before. But I didn’t want to run away. I wanted to get closer and shocked myself with what I said next. “If I had known that, I would have thrown my own party.”
“The night is young. Perhaps you still may.”
I was under his spell. I felt like I had to get away. I looked at my watch. “Probably not. It’s getting late and unlike my colleagues, I’m actually aware that it’s a school night.”
“Don’t you hate it when Halloween is on a school night? The night we’re supposed to let our inner indulgences take over should always be followed by a day of rest and recovery.” He stood and offered me his arm once more. “Shall I walk you home?”
Every brain cell in my head was screaming no. I didn’t listen to any of them. I stood and took his arm.
I led him down the street and around the corner. “My house is just about three blocks this way.”
“Let’s take our time and talk a little more.”
I followed his directive. I told him about how I once loved Halloween and looked forward to it all year long. I gushed about my favorite costumes, chief among them the mummy costume I wore when I was eleven. I recounted my favorite horror movie moments, including my favorite slasher movie kills and haunted house film jump scares. He laughed and smiled and encouraged me to tell him more, but he didn’t speak of himself.
When we reached my house, he accompanied me to my door. I looked up at him. I expected him to say good night and leave, but he didn’t. I finally gave in and kissed him. He returned the kiss, gently but firmly, the way every woman wishes to be kissed.
When we parted, I took a deep breath. “Would you like to come in for coffee?” I whispered.
“No. I would like to come in and make love to you.”
It was in that moment, paralyzed with anxiety and arousal as I looked into his eyes, that I knew that Drake was not lying. He was the Devil.
Yet, I knew that if I turned him away–if I said no–he would bid me goodnight and walk off my porch, never to be seen again. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from a lifetime of reading, it’s that the Devil may be evil but he always plays fair. He follows the rules of his own game and he said that he was searching for a “willing” vessel. In a bizarre way, I knew I was safe with him.
But I didn’t want to say no. I wanted to give myself to this man. I wanted to be consumed by him. I cared about nothing else. I only knew my desire: to Hell with consequence.
I opened my door and beckoned him to come inside.
#
That was eight weeks ago.
One morning a month ago, I woke up violently ill.
Two weeks ago, my period should have started. It didn’t.
Tonight, I took a pregnancy test.
It was positive.
Enjoyable story.
Nice! I love a handsome devil.