This is something new for me; for those of you that have read my other works you might have noticed a recent trend at trying new things. Let me know whether or not you like it. As always, all rights are reserved by the author including but not limited to copyrights. If you're interested in reproducing this or any other of my work on line or in any other form please email me first.
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What is your soul worth? Don't scoff; it's a legitimate question. How much would you sell your soul for? Now, before you go and say that there isn't anything you want so bad that you would sell your soul I want you to really think about it. Money? Fame? Power? Materialistic, I know. For you more moralistic types what about to save a sick relative? World peace? A cure for cancer? Everyone has a price; do you know what yours is?
I do.
When I was twenty-eight years old I was preparing to graduate from law school. That in and of itself should give you a clue as to the state of my morality. I didn't have any. By the time I was in my early twenties even I was concerned about my apparent lack of morals. I had no problem taking what I wanted whether it was "rightfully" mine or not. I had no issue with bending the law to the breaking point and I never suffered a sleepless night over the use of loopholes. I agreed with the masses that the term "ethical lawyer" was an oxymoron.
As graduation drew near I found myself in the position of not having a job. My grades where not something to write home about, no prestigious law firms were knocking on my door and I had no interest in becoming a public defender. I wasn't an idealist; I hadn't gone to law school in hopes of changing the world or improving humanity, which meant that there was no future for me with the environmentalist, the women's lib movement, or working with minorities. I wanted to make money.
I wasn't the only one to find herself is this predicament. One night right before graduation I found myself at the local law school hangout. There were four of us huddled around a table in the back of the bar drinking beer and trying to figure out just what the hell we were going to do. Mandy was the first one to share her thoughts on the situation.
"Right now I swear to God I would blow the ugliest partner in all of this city in exchange for a job."
Rita was quick to pick up on that particular train of thought. Slurring her words slightly, she said, "Yeah, well I'd fuck the ugliest SOB in this city for a job as an associate."
Kelly wasn't going to be left out. "Well, I'd marry the ugliest, fattest, most grotesque partner and have sex with him every night for the rest of my life for a job."
Everyone looked expectantly at me. Taking a sip of my beer I looked up at them and smiled. "Ladies, I wouldn't do anything that drastic."
"What would you do?"
I shrugged. "Simple, I'd sell my soul."
At my casually given declaration the table erupted into laughter. Kelly reached over and punched me in the arm. "Yeah, well you'd get off the easiest if you did."
The rest of the night was a blur. There was more beer, more laughing and somewhere along the way we picked up a group of guys from another local law school. I woke up the next morning with the world's worse hangover next to some blonde whose name I couldn't remember. It wasn't the first time.
Quietly, I crawled out of bed gathered up what I could find of my clothes and let myself out. I was relieved to see my car parked outside the apartment, never mind the fact that two wheels were up on the curb. There were no dents or scratches and I was fairly sure I would have remembered getting into an accident.
I drove home and let myself into the small two-bedroom house I shared with a medical student. Kate was never home so for the most part it was like living on my own. I stripped off my soiled clothes and turned the shower on full blast. The hot water was exquisite and I spent a full fifteen minutes with my head under the spray trying to clear my fuzzy brain.
An hour and two cups of coffee later I was feeling human again. I listened to my messages, cringing at the reminder from my mother about all the family coming to town to see me graduate. It hadn't gone unnoticed among my parents, aunts, uncles and cousins that I was still unemployed and over eighty grand in debt. If I didn't have a job by the time I graduated I was going to spend the entire time at my party explaining why to a room full of relatives.
It was Saturday afternoon and finals had ended the week before. I had one week to get my shit together before everyone arrived. I spent the day pouring over the classifieds, faxing and email resumes and calling on everyone I knew with a connection. Nothing.
By the time I went to bed that night I was seriously considering chucking it all and heading out of town. I loved my family, don't get me wrong but there was no way I was going to sit around while the creditors came knocking on my door. I didn't have much and I sure as hell wasn't going to give it up.
I feel asleep wondering just how hard it would be to disappear.
Some time later I woke up to the smell of sulfur. Something was burning and it wasn't a pleasant smell. The room was dark, pitch black actually and I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face. Pushing back the covers I swung my feet off the side of the bed and moved across the room. I had had enough practice coming home late and usually drunk that I was able to make my way to the door without bumping into anything.
Slowly I reached out and grabbed hold of the handle. "Shit!" It was hot and already I could feel heat radiating into the room from the other side of the door. Looking around I knew there was no other way. If there was a fire in the house I was going to have to go through it. My room was on the second floor and the only window looked out over a steep cliff. It was either out the door or die up here in the dark.
Fumbling around on the floor I found what I thought was a discarded sweater and wrapped it around my hand. Moving to the side of the doorway I opened it and peaked out. Nothing in my twenty-eight years of life or my three years in law school could have prepared me for what was on the other side of that door.
Gone was my small two-bedroom house. My bedroom now opened up into what could only be called Hell and I was standing in the very center of it. Taking a cautious step forward I gave a start as the door to my room disappeared.