Heya Everyone, I found a prompt online and started to work on it, but the start’s turned up being really long, so I’m breaking it down into to two parts. Today, the day you sold your soul, next week will be the actual prompt, the day you get your soul back. See you then!
Enjoy :)
Prompt: You sold your soul to the devil years ago, today he gives it back and says, I need a favour.
It had been an easy decision, a tall handsome man approaching you at the bar, your favourite drink in hand and a smile on his lips. Handsome as sin, you should have known something was different about him. The choice he offered was one that you didn't hesitate to take. Your soul for whatever wish you could dream up. You didn't believe in souls, to begin with, and bargaining with something you didn't believe in for something that probably wouldn't happen to begin with.
You asked for some time to decide what your 'soul' was worth, and it was freely given. Him buying you more drinks while you thought about and tossed out each idea that slowly crossed your mind, idea's getting more and more ridiculous with each drink that crossed your lips.
"Have you decided yet?" You paused, your glass resting against your lips.
"I want the ability to go into any book and movie I want, and live as any character I choose." You answered, putting your glass down and turning your full attention to him. He frowned, his own fingers tapping against his glass. "Is that a problem?"
"No, not at all, just not one we normally get. Most humans ask to be rich, or famous, or get the love of their love. The rare time we get someone selling their soul to save the life of the loved one. Your wish is... different, but not impossible." He produced a file from his jacket pocket, and a pen, opening it, flicking to a page and writing down exactly what it was you wished for. "Just sign on the dotted line and it's done. You give me your soul, and I grant you your wish."
"Done." you took the pen from his hand and signed your name, sliding the paperwork back towards him.
"All done, when you wake up tomorrow you'll have your wish."
"That's it, kinda anticlimactic don't you think?" He frowned, glancing around the crowded bar, before turning his attention back to me.
"Can't draw any attention, this isn't a deal we like to make with just anyone, we like a certain calibre of souls. Your's fit the bill." He brought you one last drink, before ripping the paper you'd signed in half. The pages magically fixing themselves into two copies of the document.
"A copy for you, and one for us. Refunds are not allowed unless under dire terms, make sure you read the terms and conditions. There can be some nasty side effects if you don't follow the rules exactly." He stood, walking away without any more than a goodbye.
When you awoke the next morning, all that felt different was a raging hangover. Barely able to open your eyes, you stumbled towards the kitchen, hands blindly searching for the box of painkillers you'd thrown on the kitchen bench before heading to bed the night before.
You stopped when your hands fell on a heavy stack of papers, opening your eyes wide enough to read the blood red cursive across the top, 'Soul Contract'.
Your search for painkillers was forgotten as you sat down on a stool and pulled the stack of paper towards you. It couldn't be real could it? Souls didn't exist, so how could you have sold yours? Did that mean you had whatever silly wish you'd asked for? It was easy to believe that it was a dream, your alcohol inhibited mind making up some strange story as you slept off the hangover you'd caused yourself by getting way too drunk.
It couldn't be real, but still, your fingers ran across the pages as if you could smug the lettering off or prove it wasn't real.
Does this mean you could jump worlds whenever you wanted? Take the place of your favourite characters and live the way they could? What happened if you died as one? Would it affect you here, would you die in both worlds? How would you even change worlds, to begin with? How would any of it affect you?
You pulled the book closer towards you, flipping open the first page. He had said it was the terms and conditions, surely it would have to hold some of the answers you sought. You paused before reading, looking out over the counter to grab the painkillers. You'd need a clear mind to even begin trying to understand what was going on, and that meant coffee, and a notepad.
You didn't notice the passage of time as you read, hand alternating between scrawling notes across the note page and lifting the cooling coffee to your lips. Forced to try make sense of everything you saw before you before even daring to try it out. You didn't believe it could be true, but you liked your life far more than to just try without researching first. But the book held nothing more than a long list of warnings that could void the contract, and cost you much more than just the soul you'd sold.
That meant it was up to you, you had to figure this out for yourself. You put the contract aside, getting up to pick up your favourite book from the shelf where it had pride of place. Automatically opening it to your favourite scene, the one where the heroine realised her feelings for the person she'd sworn never to fall for. Where she decided to throw away everything she thought was right, and everything she'd worked so hard for to give love a chance. It didn't bother you that it was near the end of the book. You'd read it so many times, imagining your life if you were in her situation, imagining things you'd do differently, dreaming someone could one day inspire a love in you to do what she had.
If there was any world you wanted to live in, it was this one.
You glanced down at the book, eyes scanning the first few lines, wondering if that was how the thing started. But reading the first few lines did nothing, nor did the next few paragraphs. You tried something different, letting your eyes fall closed as you imagined the entire scene as you knew it played out. When you opened them again, you were still standing in your apartment, staring at a bookshelf packed to the brim with stories you'd loved and read countless times.
You sighed, putting the book back on the shelf and turning back to slump on the couch. This was all some elaborate prank, someone taking advantage of the face you were a sucker for a pretty face. One of your friends hiring a cute actor or model to approach you at the bar, buy you a few drinks and trick you into thinking you'd sold your soul for some awesome deal. You loved magic tricks, always falling for them, and no doubt that was what the contract ripping thing was about, a clever illusion tricking you into thinking he'd achieved some impossible feat.
You closed your eyes, now you'd wasted an entire morning reading a fake document and being excited about powers you didn't have. No proper heroine would ever fall for that, especially not-
"Sarah?" Your eyes snapped open, the soft velvety voice that spoke didn't speak your name it spoke hers, your favourite heroines.
This time it wasn't your apartment you opened your eyes, instead, it was a bedroom. A red feature wall on the opposite side of the room, highlighting the dark wood four poster bed, that had matching red drapes hanging from it. A plush shaggy black carpet running all the way up and underneath the bed. You reached out, hands brushing against black silk sheets, before falling onto a red duvet.
You knew this room, it was one you'd always imagined, but never quite been able to capture.
"Sarah, what are you doing here?" You glanced down, and it wasn't your body you saw. Long fingers had been perfectly manicured, a similar shade to that which coloured the wall behind the bed. Legs far longer than yours were curled underneath the long shirt you wore, and you couldn't help but run your fingers up perfectly shaved legs, before gripping onto the pure white shirt that covered just enough, buttons undone just one too many, cleavage fully on display.
You didn't remember this part of the book, Sarah would never let herself be this undressed, not in his company. It was strange, out of character, and you had no idea how to react.
"Seriously Sarah, I said the blue room, you know this room is where that scene's going to happen later on. You can't expect me to keep a straight face, not when I've seen you dressed so-" He stopped talking, hand waving towards you as if he'd forgotten word to describe your undressed state.
"Scene?" What did he mean scene, and why was he so comfortable with Sarah? They were supposed to hate each other's guts, be working against each other with seemingly opposite endings to near the end of the novel when they realised they were working towards the same goal, when Sarah's feelings of love overwhelmed and they acknowledged what was growing between them. This... this wasn't anywhere in the novel.
"You know, tomorrow morning, when you 'sneak' in here to steal some information and I 'catch' you in the act. Come on babe, we have precious few hours hidden behind the chapter break, you're wasting it with these questions." Your eyes widened as he stepped closer, he was shirtless, abs seeming to glisten in the bedroom lights. Black pants wrapped around his legs, bare feet sliding through the carpets.
His hand was not as soft as you imagined, callouses on his hand brushing against your wrist as he pulled you upright, his other hand wrapping around your waist. His lips pressing down against yours, your eyes closed, kissing him back before you realised what you were doing.
This was so strange, it wasn't supposed to happen. Sarah was supposed to hate his guts, not show up in his bed, barely dressed and wanting more from him than was ever written within the book.
So you pulled back, hands pressed against his chest and forcing him away. He barely moved, loosening his grasp so he could look down at you.
"Sarah, what's wrong?" His hand came up to stroke down your cheek, tangling in your hair as he leant down to rest his forehead against yours. "Is this about that fight? I know you hate pretending to hate me, but it's what makes for a good story. It's what we were created to do." You moved your head off of his, pressing your head against his chest, eyes squeezing shut. This wasn't what you wanted, nor what you had expected. You never imagined that the characters would have a life of their own outside of the story, that they would be aware of what was going on. This wasn't right.
"The creator is going to be so pissed if you don't stick to the plan love." His lips pressed to the top of your head, arms wrapping securely around your waist.
You started falling forward, eyes opening wide to find yourself back in your apartment, forced to catch yourself before you smashed down face first onto the floor. Everything had been so much different than you'd expected, you still had no idea what to think nor plan. You had expected to find yourself in a scene you knew well, planning to play along with what was going to happen with what you'd read.
If this was what the rest of your life would be like, you’d have to adjust, and quickly.
