I’ve always been more of a free-writer, than somebody who sits down, and carefully executes what I’m going to write. I don’t even like proof-reading! Continue reading
Let’s begin at the end…
“Hello!?” I shout into the dark room, how in all of holy hell did I get here?
I am in a room resembling a shady lawyer’s office, and I am wearing my crappy pajamas that I am pretty sure I only wear alone in my bedroom and sometimes around the house when I’m feeling super lazy.
But inside of this room, it’s a sweltering 100 degrees, and these pajamas are becoming too heavy to wear. There’s an odd dress hanging on a hook by the door and the shades are covering the outside hall, which I assume exists in my little fairyland.
It’s my favorite shade of green and looks lighter and cooler to wear in this hellhole. I shrug my shoulders, and don it. It fits me perfectly, but this is dreamland, so whatever I see will be made for me anyways. There’s a mirror on the door, and I turn back in forth in appreciation.
It’s slimming and light on my body, which is hard to do, but it has a low-neckline that will make any guy drool, and there’s a cute pair of brown wedges next to it. I decide this is heaven, albeit a hot one, and put them on too. They fit like a glove and I float around the room feeling pretty. Back in the mirror, my eyes are glowing next to the green color and my hair is behaving in my natural curls framing my pale face rather sweetly.
I swish the dress around a bit more feeling feminine and cute, when the door opens rather abruptly and standing there is one hot dude.
“Having fun?” he flashes me an insanely hot smile, full of charm and obvious confidence.
“uh-uh.” I think I reply rather stupidly, but I have never seen such a hot guy turn on the charm for little ‘ole me.
I finally pull my lips back up from the ground and give him an appraising look. It’s like he was written out of the book on How to Make a Bad Boy Look Good. I instantly write the title in my head and instantly regret it.
He’s at least 6’4” with broad shoulders, long, masculine arms, and wide hands that look like they could break my ribs with a squeeze. I shiver indelicately.
He’s also got heart-breakingly dark green eyes and dark black hair. His skin is a nice tanned color and he probably works out three hours a day. I can almost imagine his flawless abs underneath that way too sexy dark gray suit he’s rocking to impress me with.
And on one of his hands, I can see a tribal tattoo coming out from underneath the wrists of his suit jacket. Yum.
He smiles at me again and I notice one dimple pop out. I’m a goner for sure now.
“Like what you see?”
“Well, you’re staring rather unabashedly at me, I think I have the right to ask.”
“Well, you’re not supposed to be in my dream, so please step out.”
“Your dream?” he looks rather surprised. I smile triumphantly; I managed to trump him on a technicality. But in all reality, he isn’t supposed to be in here, I only dream of cute guys I can get. Not unrealistically hot guys I will never touch. Although he is so obviously close and easily touchable within this distance.
Snap outta it! I shake my head and focus back on him, trying to ignore the obvious sensation of losing the feeling in my legs when he smiles. Damn him!
“Yes, my dream. See, you’re too perfect, you should be too short or have a serious physical impairment to your otherwise perfect looks. Sorry! You do NOT belong in my dreams. Ta Ta!” I wave my hands at him in a goodbye motion knowing in my dreams he’ll just disappear because this is MY world and what I say goes. Unless it’s a nightmare, than I have no absolute reign, but in a dream where I have sex with a hot stranger, this guy is definitely under my power.
But after waving my hands at him in different ways for probably much too long, he’s crossed his arms and is waiting patiently for something to happen.
“I’m not dreaming, is the obvious question to ask now, huh?” I finally say out loud.
“No, you’re not.”
“Does that mean I won’t enter Heaven?” I ask this a little bit confused, I never really was religious, almost atheist, I scorned organized religion and its sometimes small focus. I prided myself on viewing everything as a big picture. This room however, has narrowed my sight to thirteen by fifteen, and I do not appreciate the irony. “Will I be here like Damien?”
Damien does not say a word, but I think he is offended. At this point, I do not really care. My entire world is being turned upside down, and the only offer to fix it, is to sell something I kinda want now. Funny how you want something when it’s very close to being taken away.
Adrena laughs heartily.
“There are many things your world does not know of. Heaven and Hell are one of them. Souls are not what enters these places. Obviously we would have your body and your soul if you sign this contract. But these places,” She gestures around herself, “are choices people make on their deathbeds. Neither is wrong or right.” She smiles to herself and picks up some papers. If I was not very aware I was in Hell, I swear I would be in a simple office talking to the manager. She plays her persona well. “Damien is another story. Much more gruesome and long. As is mine.” She bares her teeth in what I am assuming is her scariest smile. It is.
I shudder indelicately and pace the room. Damien has taken the space next to one of the tall windows, and stands there with his arms crossed across his massive chest. He looks bored, but I can tell he is listening.
“Amy, I understand where you are coming from. You have had multiple people tell you what is and what isn’t. Now I stand before you to tell you everything they have said is incorrect. It can be a lot to take in, not to mention the previous offer. How about Damien takes you on a tour and when you come back, we can discuss this in greater length.” She turns to some more files on her desk, and the motion I am dismissed with is the flick of her aged right hand. I turn to leave and Damien straightens up and follows me out.