Time to Reflect

Flash fiction.

“Welcome, James,” the figure said. It had a face like a man but crimson skin, horns, and the eyes of a snake. The air was choked with the smell of burning and sulfur.

“Wha—what is this? What are you?” James asked, his eyes darting around for an exit he runs through the only door he sees. It opens into a bright white room with a cold stone floor.

“I am the Devil. This is your cell,” it gestures around the empty room, “you are in Hell.”

The cold in this room made James realize he was naked, “Wh—why? It’s empty! I don’t understand!” James cried, trying but failing to cover himself from the cold.

“Don’t play dumb, James. You know what you did. And all you failed to do. You wasted it, every minute, every hour, every day.”

“And now I am damned to be here? In this cold empty place?”

“It will fill with time, James. Perhaps, after a thousand years, I’ll start by giving you a splintery wooden dowel so you can poke yourself in all sorts of strange holes old and new just to break up the monotony,” the Devil cackled, reaching its claw over to close the door, “for now, I’ll leave you with your thoughts.”

@———@———@

James woke up at his desk. The back of his hand red and he could feel a similar mark imprinted on his forehead. It had been a dream. He had fallen asleep.

“I really should write this down before I forget,” James muttered under his breath, searching the desk for his journal and pen.

A claw, crimson, with black talon comes to rest on his shoulder, “I certainly would not forget if I were you, James, because,” the Devil whispered in his ear, “this is your last chance.”