Edited by: nancyharpman17... Thank you as your additions are what kept this from being mindless drivel.
*
Faith. Intuition. The comforting feeling that a higher power is offering a helping hand to navigate life. These phenomena lend credence to the truth that we all have guardian angels assigned by Destiny to watch over us in times of need. But what we never realize is the reverse is also true...
*
"Iskra!" The name was shouted in the same way every annoyed Father would call for his daughter, the first syllable a dull roar and the second; well, it was obvious she was in trouble. Satan's fingertips glowed red as they tapped in an angry cadence against his throne which emanated an ominous, unnerving pulse while he awaited her arrival.
*
Iskra shook with freight upon hearing her name. "Damn." She thrust the silver platter forward, "Here, just take them all." She released the serving dish just as quickly and the boy barely held onto it.
Iskra hurried to the main hall before her footsteps became lead. She trembled and her whole body resonated with the tone her father used and the echo of her own name. All too soon she appeared at the expansive, imposing metallic black door. Nervous sweat rolled down her forehead. She brushed it away, along with the few tendrils of her long, bright red hair. Her hand scraped over the two horns that protruded three inches from her head. She didn't want to go in there; but with one final breath, she steeled herself and pushed open the door.
The first thing Iskra noticed was his large, imposing horns that arched backward and down before curling forward and framing his face. This led her to his piercing black eyes, so similar to her own, but yet, far more sinister. They penetrated her very existence and caused her to march the rest of her journey with her head downcast, staring at the cracks in the cement floor.
"What were you doing?" Satan quickly took the vocal lead, his voice deep and brusque, which only fueled Iskra's melancholy.
"Nothing... Just baking some cookies," Iskra's voice barely cracked above a whimper.
"Just baking some cookies?" Satan reiterated the same words; but the tone implied harshness and cut through the sweet innocence her tone had made them sound. His stare was fiery, as a square formed above his left shoulder and began to play her villainous act in high definition. "Does this look like you were just baking cookies?"
The scene unfolded quickly; Iskra entering the regrettable nightmare the nine-year-old boy was forced to relive over and over again -- his personal hell -- and offering comforting solace; and, of course, a few chocolate chip cookies.
"Well?" Satan's stare had never left his daughter during the playback, and now he wanted his answer. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Father, Andy's only nine." Iskra subconsciously lifted her arms in conjunction to her soft plea.
"Yes, a nine-year-old who..." Satan paused, as a large book appeared in his lap, and a pair of bifocals fell upon his nose. He flipped open the ledger and turned to the name 'Andrew Staley'... "picked up his father's gun and shot him dead. Then realizing what he had done, turned the weapon upon himself. He is in Hell for a reason."
"But he only committed those sins because he witnessed his drunken father repeatedly slam his mother's head into the wall. It was the only way to save her."
"And he failed. She died and went to heaven; and he is with us, where he belongs. It is the way of the world. It is what we do."
Iskra's face contorted in what she felt was the unfairness of it all, "But, Father..."
"Iskra," Satan took off his glasses as he leaned forward, "We are in the business of souls. We harvest all those who are sinners. Hell, we even encourage the righteous to be corrupt."
"I know, Father," Iskra's voice went monotone as proof to how many times she has been lectured on the subject. "We devils have desires, encourage others to have desires, grant desires, and, in return, we garner their souls." Her voice then changed to one of a pleading nature, "But, there are souls here that..."
"Iskra," Satan interrupted. "I will not have this conversation with you again. You are the daughter of the leader of Hell, the one whom all other demons worship as their leader. What does that say about me when I can't get my own spawn to act like a true devil?" Satan shook his head, "You lower the temperature, give water to those assigned manual labor, and visit purgatory in an effort to lighten the hardships of the souls trapped there. Where did I go wrong? Your brother and sister are at the top of the list when it comes to corrupting human souls. Perfect devils. But you... I can't even send you to earth for fear of you screwing up. There is no room for compassion in what we do." He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "I don't know what to do with you."
Iskra's head fell, tears in her eyes; and her hands quickly covered them. Above all else, she knew her place in her father's heart; and, like so many children, all she wanted was his respect. "I know, Father... I know I am not worthy to be called your daughter...but I want to be. I'll do better to make you proud."
Satan looked at Iskra with benevolence. He may be THE Devil...but this was still his daughter. "When I step down, I was going to divide the world in half, with each of your siblings getting a controlling share. There is still time to change my mind and divide it into thirds."
"Father?" Iskra glanced up with reddened eyes.
"I have decided to give you a chance to prove yourself. An eighteen-year-old high school boy named Mason Parker...Corrupt him and you may be on your way."
"Oh, Daddy, thank you!" Iskra ran forward and jumped into his arms. Her embrace was tight and she showered him with kisses. "I won't let you down."
"I know, Iskra. I know," Satan chuckled. "Your name means 'spark'. Now show me yours. Show me you can be a devil."
Iskra jumped from his lap and giddily ran towards the exit. Satan put the arm of his glasses in the crook of his mouth as he sat back in his throne. With an amused smile, he shook his head. "Kids..." He let the word trail off as he felt the emptiness of the space where his eldest daughter had just vacated. "I hope I did the right thing..."
*
Iskra was rounding the corner in the hall, almost to her bedroom in the castle. She was excited and couldn't wait to meet her mark, although she had no idea about how to corrupt someone.
"I can't believe Father is sending 'The Reject' to earth." The words came from a girl leaning against the wall, her foot lifted against it, and the words were spoken with utter distaste and spat towards Iskra. "You couldn't get a fly to commit a sin."
Iskra stopped in her tracks at her little sister's proclamation. "Morana, what do you want?"
"Nothing. Just pointing out how useless you are as a devil." Morana pushed herself away from the wall, a menacing smile on her face. "So, what did he give you...some high school boy?"
Iskra glanced down, "Um, yeah..."
"HA! I take down a hundred of those in a week. They are so susceptible to lust. Figures he'd give you an easy prey. Of course, you've got to actually be willing to get your mark to commit one of the seven deadly sins." Morana then laughed as she walked away, "Don't forget to change your appearance. Humans don't have horns."
"Maybe she's right..." Iskra looked down, dejected. The truth seemed to smack her in the face. Her eyes closed as she was on the verge of tears. "No, I'll show them... I'll be the best devil there is." Her eyes reopened and her smile resumed, "I can do this!"
*
"Ow," Mason grunted, dropping his books as he was shoved into the locker.
"Out of my way, dork!" Wade Harvey, one of Hilldale High School's resident macho football chauvinists, laughed as he walked past with his entourage.
Mason glanced at Wade's girlfriend, the cheerleading beauty, Kristen Petry; before quickly grabbing his dropped books and doing his best to make a hasty retreat and avoid the humiliation of what had just transpired. With downcast eyes, he made his way to his physics class; and with a sigh, he plopped into his front row seat.
"A week into the school year, and things are just as they left off. Another year of being on my own." Mason shook his head as the bell sounded and Mr. Poole began the day's lecture.
It was the same every year...nothing but taking the brunt of the elite of Hilldale High School. He had hoped things would change now that he was eighteen and a senior; but it was obvious he had another year of wedgies, toilet swirlies, and worst of all, the verbal taunts. Mason shivered at the thought.
The sound of high-heeled footsteps were heard far before the door opened; but only then did everyone in the class look up and behold the bright red haired beauty at the door, wearing a short, black mini skirt and tight v - neck red top.
"Excuse me," Mr. Poole turned from the blackboard to the girl at the door."Who are you...and why are you interrupting my class?"
"I'm your new transfer student."
"I wasn't aware there was a new student for my class."
"Oh, I almost forgot," Iskra snapped her fingers. "Yeah, today is my first day." She reached into her bag and pulled out her class schedule...the exact same schedule as Mason Parker.
Mr. Poole immediately backtracked. "Of course, now I remember. You must be Iskra Abaddon. Please, take a seat in any empty desk."
"Thank you." Despite clothing that accentuated her curves, which she despised, Iskra couldn't help but to smile at the effectiveness her snap had on the teacher's memory. She started to scan the front row and stopped when she reached the middle. Black, unkempt hair, jeans and a t-shirt... a little bigger than she thought, but it was him. She casually walked down the middle aisle, giving a seductive glance to the student in the front row before taking an empty seat in the back.
Iskra couldn't be any more excited. Based on the drool coming from the boy in the front row, Morana was right...high school boys are easy prey when it comes to lust. "I'll be home tonight and Father will be so proud."
