Temptation © by Rod Thedorff 1998
All Rights Reserved
Webpage by Jilli / Fate

TEMPTATION

By:  Rod Thedorff

aka:   Fate

It's a Saturday night, and outside lightening is striking. The rain is pouring to the ground, and the clouds can be heard bellowing their powerful roars. Inside sits a man, laying across his candle lit table, trying desperately to write his memoirs. Whenever a word had come to his mind that he felt was needed, he quickly wrote it down, only to stroke it out moments later. For now he just lays there, arms folded, and his head lying upon them, thinking about what to write to next. A look of pain is upon his face, but more distinct then that is a look of fear. Something is coming for him, and he is confused as to what he is going to do next.

Mark hasn't had a hard life. In fact, whenever he thinks back, he can bring a smile to his face about what he has seen in his life. Mark's pain doesn't come from anything that he has done, but in fact it comes from the opposite. His pain comes from the things he hasn't done in his life. So much unfulfilled promise. He doesn't consider himself a loser, because he has lost nothing. He is still as he was years ago. What Mark does consider himself though, is a waste. A waste of time, a waste of space, a waste of life. So much of a waste, that he sits here this night, writing away at something that he intends to be his last words in life. A sudden burst of inspiration, and Mark quickly scribbles a few words down in his book.

Mark looks back over what he has written. Words, just a few words. The phrase catches his eye, and he lingers upon it for a few moments. He reads it over, and over again. I want to die, it says. I want to die because life holds no place for me in her arms. Mark had begun thinking of what he was going to write months ago. He knew exactly how it was to start, and how it was to finish. And now that it has started, he was no idea how to finish it. It was time for his actions to begin, but he couldn't even write down a few more words to mark his existence. No more waiting. Mark takes the book up in his hands, and slowly closes the cover. Maybe it would be best not to have any final words. Maybe it was better to keep silent about his torment. Maybe those few words would say enough. He opened the book once more, and placed his pen upon the margin. This is how they would find it.

Mark reached over to the cabinet beside him, slowly opening the drawer. Reaching inside he took hold of his gun. He stopped for a moment, looking at the dark object he held in his hand. Such things of destruction that our race has created, he thought. So small. To think that something so small could cause so much pain. He sat there a moment longer, thinking to himself about what he was about to do. There would be no turning back. This is a final decision. Did he really wish to die. Before he could come to a conclusion, Mark heard a voice speak out behind him.

"Come on man. I don't have all night. Just pull the trigger, and we will both be happier."

Mark stood up quickly, and spun around to see a visitor in his house, sitting in one of his chairs, watching him. Mark was so shocked that he couldn't say anything. Couldn't scream at the man for invading his privacy. Couldn't ask the man who he was. All Mark could do was stand there, and look the man over.

The man was slouched in the chair as if he was really bored. The first thing Mark noticed about him, was that he held his hands in front of his mouth. His eyes seemed to shine in the darkness, but they also seemed to change. Every second the man's eyes seemed to be different somehow. Mark couldn't figure out how they were different though. It seemed as if they were the eyes of every man, and yet the eyes of no man, all at once. The man also seemed to be tall. But Mark found it hard to figure out if he was. The man's hair was blond, and well combed. The man was also well dressed, wearing what seemed to be an expensive suit. When the man finally moved his hands from his face, Mark also noticed that the man was handsome. In fact, he had the look about him of one of those models he saw advertising expensive clothing. The man certainly must work out because he filled out his suit, making it seem as if the suit was almost too small for him. The man was getting more impatient, and began to speak once more.

"Go on, ask your questions. Everyone does. And each time, they are just as boring. But, it seems to be in your human nature. Go on, ask away."

The man spoke perfectly. Not a lisp, nor a misspoken word. Every word was perfectly pronounced. And his voice was that of an actor. Loud, and controlling. Through his voice, Mark could tell that the man was bored. Mark didn't want to bore the man any longer then he had to. And then he found his tongue, and began to speak.

"Who are you?"

"So predictable you humans are. And so stupid. Who am I? You would think that after so many thousands of years people would know who I am. But no. And it gets worse every year. If you don't know who I am, I'm not about to tell you." The man spoke sarcastically, and the power in his voice sent shivers of fear down Mark's spine.

"Are you death?"

The man began to laugh, and then continued to speak in his sarcastic tone. "Death? Well, I suppose I am in a way. But, I've got more to do then Death does. More responsibilities. And I've always got so much more to say."

"I always thought that Death may be a physical person when I am dead, or dying. I thought that perhaps out of all the incarnations that could exist, Death would be the one. Afterall, someone must come to claim the soul. Something I do believe in. And since you claim not be be such an entity, then you must be the Devil. Who else would have such an interest in my death? I'm afraid you've got the wrong house, the wrong man. I don't believe in you. Go away, and leave me alone."

"I don't care if you believe in me, or you don't believe in me. It's not a matter of faith. For Him it is, but not for me. And I have to be here, when every one of you idiots expire. I have to be here to collect what is mine. If I'm not, it slips through my fingers, and I lose it forever. I'm in thousands of places at this very moment. Having this same conversation hundreds of times. So please, don't bore me anymore with your stupid questions, and get on with your job." The man seemed to be getting upset, as he raised his voice in anger for the first time. His shouts vibrating off the walls. The man was also speaking very sarcastically, as if he had indeed heard all this before.

Mark didn't know how to proceed. The presence sitting in front of him was strong. Mark could feel the aura of evil around him. There was no denying who it was that sat before him. Unspeakable evil did exist in the world. Perhaps that meant God existed as well. But why was it so important to this man, that he ended his life tonight. Why was it so important, that the Devil would reveal his presence to him before he ended his life. Why didn't he wait? Sure, he had his doubts about ending his life. He knew that he may not have even gone through with it tonight. It is a big step. And there was no turning back.

All sorts of questions began to form in Mark's mind. Questions about existence, about life, about miracles, about unexplainable things. But he held them all back. This was not the time, nor the person to ask them to. There would be other times. Mark was in trouble of loosing the most precious thing that had ever been given to him. His soul was in trouble. That was the important thing. That he could not afford to lose. This was not the time to become a loser. He would have to fight back. He would have to stand up for himself. He looked at the man, at the Devil, sitting before him, and spoke but one word.

"No!"

The Devil looked back at him, and seemed to shake his head in disgust. He let out a long breath, looked down to the ground, and began to speak once more.

"No? You are telling me that you are not going to do your job? What praytell, brought about this change in you all of a sudden?" The man seemed to be even more bored now, then when the meeting had begun.

"There are things to live for. If you are here, then there must be something I'm overlooking."

"Fool. You still don't get it do you? I don't care who you are. I don't care what you think. I don't care what you believe. If you are to be mine, then you are mine. I come to collect what is mine. Your words say it best. Yes, I've read them already. 'I want to die, because life holds no place for me in her arms.' That is your words is it not? How is that any different now? It's not. Stop this useless thinking, and do what you are to do." The man seemed really upset now. His voice was more then raised. It was shouting at him. It was mocking him. It was sarcastic to him.

"I can change my mind. It's only thoughts. What was written can be erased. Maybe when I was writing, I wasn't thinking clearly. Maybe when I was writing, it wasn't my true thoughts. I still don't know what life wants to do with me. I still don't know if I've got a place in her arms. But at least I can try to find out. At least now I've got a different view of things."

When Mark finished speaking, he noticed that the man was smiling at him. The feeling of evil left him. A bright glow circled the man. It was hard to look at him anymore. It was hard to tell if it was even a man sitting in his chair anymore. Mark saw that the man was standing now. And a voice began to speak. One not much different then the other voice. Except this voice was much more gentle. This voice was much more caring. This voice held love within it.

"Mark, you have been tempted, and you have been tested. You have beat temptation. And you have passed the test. Go help yourself, so that He may help you. Every man must find his own way, just as every woman must find hers. Along the way there are always those willing to help. Just keep your eyes open, and never look back."

With those words spoken the man disappeared, and Mark saw no more of him. Mark returned to the chair, and the table that he had begun the night in. The storm outside still raged on. Lightening struck once more. Mark layed his head down upon his arms, and lay there thinking about what he had seen.

The sun was shining through the window, and it was enough to wake Mark up. Shading his eyes from the light, Mark began to wonder when he had fallen asleep. He remembered attempting to write a farewell, and trying to figure out what exactly he wanted to say. He looked down at the sheet of paper before him, and noticed only one sentence had been finished. 'I want to die because life holds no place for me in her arms.' Taking his pencil, Mark quickly stroked those words out. Those words were not true. He couldn't even understand why they had been written down. He quickly wrote down a new sentence. 'Life holds her arms open to me, and it is my job to embrace them by doing everything I can to live.' That sounds right he thought, and got up out of his chair to begin his day.