Ghosting: "The Library"
Nov. 1st, 2018 09:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rayasoIdol 2018 Mini-Season, Week 4
Topic: Ghosting
It was another cold, gray, rainy day and Steve was taking it personally. “Just like my life,” he thought. He hated his job, his cat had abandoned him, and his girlfriend had finally answered one of his many texts with the magic words – restraining order. At 39, he knew he had to make some changes or his life would be over and he would slide downhill to nights in an old recliner surrounded by empty beer bottles, with bitter regret for breakfast. Hell, he was halfway there now. He finally understood why his father liked Sinatra.
“I need something new,” he thought, “but how?” His life wasn’t supposed to be like this. “Maybe I can find some help at the library.”
He didn’t know where the libraries were in New York, but it didn’t take him long to find out.
Money for libraries had been short, but he wasn’t expecting this. The outside was dirty and old, and it had needed new paint twenty years ago. But there was a big banner above the doors: “Under New Management!” A sign in the lobby said, “A New Library for New Times!”
Steve’s heart hurt. The sign said the library had been privatized and now was just another subsidiary of SatanCo.
He could understand buying all the politicians, investment bankers, and lawyers. They were already corrupt and soulless, but libraries?
“Can I help you?” asked the greeter, who was wearing a black, high-collared cape lined in red, with rubber horns strapped to her head. She was holding a plastic pitchfork.
“Since when did librarians wear devil costumes?” asked Steve.
“We’re not librarians anymore – we’re minions,” said the greeter, pointing to her name tag.
“But you don’t look like a denizen of Hell,” said Steve.
“Not yet,” she said, “that’s the retirement plan. We may have sold our souls, but at least we kept our jobs. Plus, we get health and dental. These fangs don’t look like much now, but they’re hard to maintain.”
“You’re here for the self-help section,” added the greeter.
“How did you know?” said Steve.
“We always know a soul’s weakness,” the greeter said. “The library’s not just books anymore. Self-help is one of our most popular products. It takes up the whole basement now. Check in when you get there.”
The basement was clean and inviting, if a tad warm. There were rows upon rows of books, with comfortable chairs and tables, most of them occupied. The lamps gave out a red glow.
“We’ve been expecting you,” said the minion at the registration desk. He was wearing a plastic ghoul’s mask and holding a whip of black ribbons. The mask muffled his voice and made his face sweat. “My name is . . . Abaddon,” he added, looking down at his name tag for assurance.
Steve looked lost.
“You hate your life, you want to make some changes, and you don’t know where to start,” said Abaddon.
“That about sums it up,” said Steve. “Do you have any books that’ll help?”
“Not just books” said Abaddon. “Lives.”
Steve looked around. All he could see were books.
“You look confused,” said Abaddon. “Those aren’t regular books – they represent lives. You can check out a life, use it for three weeks, and then return it. If you like it, you can renew it until someone places a hold on it.”
“I don’t know about that . . .” said Steve. “I just want some improvements, not a complete overhaul. You know, I want a girlfriend, a great job, and a cat who stays put.”
“The library can’t help you with your cat,” said Abaddon, “but you can get the help you need. A new girlfriend? Go to the Romance section. Work? Business is to the left. Whatever you want, we’ve got. You stay you, but with some oomph.”
“But where do those lives come from?” asked Steve.
“Hell, of course,” said Abaddon. “Each book is a soul in Hell. If you check one out, that soul is released while you keep it. They get a break from torment, and you get the benefit of their lives.”
“But aren’t they evil?” asked Steve. “They must have done something to get condemned to Hell.”
“Nobody’s perfect,” said Abaddon. “Sure, they’ve got some flaws, but who doesn’t? Taken the Lord’s name in vain recently? And who doesn’t have some impure thoughts? Ooooh, watch out! You could wind up in Hell!”
“But . . .” sputtered Steve.
“Look, Satan’s all about full disclosure. Each book has a biography. You’ll know what they’re in Hell for. And we screen out the really bad ones – you won’t find any violent criminals here.”
“I guess I can just browse,” said Steve.
That’s the spirit,” said Abaddon. “But first you’ll need a library card -- Satan doesn’t want just anyone nosing around. Only those who agree to the Terms.”
“Terms?” said Steve, his voice tightening.
“It’s blah blah this and blah blah that,” said Abaddon, “the only thing you need to know is that when you die, you become a part of this library.”
“But doesn’t that mean Hell?” said Steve.
“Don’t think about that,” replied Abaddon. “I’m sure you’ll qualify for the library’s release program.”
“It can’t be much worse than my life,” sighed Steve, signing the agreement.
He spent hours rummaging through the books; most of them were about unknown people who had lived lives of quiet evil, died, and had gone to Hell.
Steve wanted desperately to win back his girlfriend Anna, so he spent most of his time in the Romance section. He finally settled on William McAlister, a regular guy like himself, who had had many girlfriends. His sin, as far as Steve could tell, was that he didn’t honor his father and mother. “I can live with that,” he thought. “I don’t much like my parents anyway.”
He checked out McAlister, who was grateful to be released from his endless torment. Immediately, Steve had new confidence and his mind overflowed with ways to romance Anna. He had an overwhelming desire to trade in his understated sports car for an oversized red pickup truck with a pair of chrome-plated plastic testicles hanging off the trailer hitch.
“Anna’ll like that,” thought Steve. “But first, I need to send her another text, something that’ll showcase my wit and caring, but not come on too strong.”
He immediately fired off a can’t-lose message: “Hey babe, you’re hot, I’m hot, let’s burn up the night.” Then he headed for the truck dealer.
It was a busy afternoon for Steve. After driving off in his new truck, he stopped for a beer at a bar he spotted on the way home. A couple of hours later and still no reply from Anna, he sent her a new message every half hour. Later, he headed out to get some rope and gasoline to kill his parents and burn down their house.
Fortunately for Steve’s parents, he never made it out of the bar’s parking lot before passing out.
Steve had a rough night. His dreams were filled with images of the eternal torment of the Pit mixed with visions of a burning house and an elderly couple helplessly bound together, while William McAlister stood outside, laughing.
When Steve woke up, he knew that McAlister had failed to honor his parents by murdering them and then selling his soul to the Devil to get away with his crime. His success with women had been financed with the insurance money.
Feelings of rage and betrayal fought with a massive hangover as he drove his new truck back to the library to confront Abaddon.
Abaddon was not at his usual post. Instead, a man bound in paper chains with the hilt of a plastic knife duct-taped to his head was at the desk.
“Where’s Abaddon?” said Steve, controlling his anger. “He lied to me. I checked out a murderer!”
“Of course he lied,” said Haborym. “We work for Satan. It’s what we do. He met his goal for new souls and was promoted downstairs.”
“I’m returning this life and I’m cancelling my library card,” said Steve.
“I’ll take McAlister back,” said Haborym, “but you can’t cancel your card. It says so right in the Terms. You can check out another life, but Satan still owns your soul. There’s no way out.”
In his heart, he knew Haborym was right. He was headed for unbearable pain for all eternity, he’d lost Anna, and his cat would never come back.
“You can always join SatanCo.,” said Haborym.
Steve had no choice. The next morning, he showed up at the library wearing an evil clown mask with ketchup stains on his clothes to start his first day as Official Greeter at the New York Public Library. If he enticed enough people down to the basement, he might some day earn a turn at the desk and eventually become a full-fledged demon.
Anna was spared any more attention from Steve and his cat eventually found his way to her apartment. They both had long and happy lives. Steve proved inept as a greeter and was last seen headed for the Pit. His book was duly placed on the library’s shelf, where it continues to gather dust.
* * * * *
Topic: Ghosting
THE LIBRARY
It was another cold, gray, rainy day and Steve was taking it personally. “Just like my life,” he thought. He hated his job, his cat had abandoned him, and his girlfriend had finally answered one of his many texts with the magic words – restraining order. At 39, he knew he had to make some changes or his life would be over and he would slide downhill to nights in an old recliner surrounded by empty beer bottles, with bitter regret for breakfast. Hell, he was halfway there now. He finally understood why his father liked Sinatra.
“I need something new,” he thought, “but how?” His life wasn’t supposed to be like this. “Maybe I can find some help at the library.”
He didn’t know where the libraries were in New York, but it didn’t take him long to find out.
Money for libraries had been short, but he wasn’t expecting this. The outside was dirty and old, and it had needed new paint twenty years ago. But there was a big banner above the doors: “Under New Management!” A sign in the lobby said, “A New Library for New Times!”
Steve’s heart hurt. The sign said the library had been privatized and now was just another subsidiary of SatanCo.
He could understand buying all the politicians, investment bankers, and lawyers. They were already corrupt and soulless, but libraries?
“Can I help you?” asked the greeter, who was wearing a black, high-collared cape lined in red, with rubber horns strapped to her head. She was holding a plastic pitchfork.
“Since when did librarians wear devil costumes?” asked Steve.
“We’re not librarians anymore – we’re minions,” said the greeter, pointing to her name tag.
“But you don’t look like a denizen of Hell,” said Steve.
“Not yet,” she said, “that’s the retirement plan. We may have sold our souls, but at least we kept our jobs. Plus, we get health and dental. These fangs don’t look like much now, but they’re hard to maintain.”
“You’re here for the self-help section,” added the greeter.
“How did you know?” said Steve.
“We always know a soul’s weakness,” the greeter said. “The library’s not just books anymore. Self-help is one of our most popular products. It takes up the whole basement now. Check in when you get there.”
The basement was clean and inviting, if a tad warm. There were rows upon rows of books, with comfortable chairs and tables, most of them occupied. The lamps gave out a red glow.
“We’ve been expecting you,” said the minion at the registration desk. He was wearing a plastic ghoul’s mask and holding a whip of black ribbons. The mask muffled his voice and made his face sweat. “My name is . . . Abaddon,” he added, looking down at his name tag for assurance.
Steve looked lost.
“You hate your life, you want to make some changes, and you don’t know where to start,” said Abaddon.
“That about sums it up,” said Steve. “Do you have any books that’ll help?”
“Not just books” said Abaddon. “Lives.”
Steve looked around. All he could see were books.
“You look confused,” said Abaddon. “Those aren’t regular books – they represent lives. You can check out a life, use it for three weeks, and then return it. If you like it, you can renew it until someone places a hold on it.”
“I don’t know about that . . .” said Steve. “I just want some improvements, not a complete overhaul. You know, I want a girlfriend, a great job, and a cat who stays put.”
“The library can’t help you with your cat,” said Abaddon, “but you can get the help you need. A new girlfriend? Go to the Romance section. Work? Business is to the left. Whatever you want, we’ve got. You stay you, but with some oomph.”
“But where do those lives come from?” asked Steve.
“Hell, of course,” said Abaddon. “Each book is a soul in Hell. If you check one out, that soul is released while you keep it. They get a break from torment, and you get the benefit of their lives.”
“But aren’t they evil?” asked Steve. “They must have done something to get condemned to Hell.”
“Nobody’s perfect,” said Abaddon. “Sure, they’ve got some flaws, but who doesn’t? Taken the Lord’s name in vain recently? And who doesn’t have some impure thoughts? Ooooh, watch out! You could wind up in Hell!”
“But . . .” sputtered Steve.
“Look, Satan’s all about full disclosure. Each book has a biography. You’ll know what they’re in Hell for. And we screen out the really bad ones – you won’t find any violent criminals here.”
“I guess I can just browse,” said Steve.
That’s the spirit,” said Abaddon. “But first you’ll need a library card -- Satan doesn’t want just anyone nosing around. Only those who agree to the Terms.”
“Terms?” said Steve, his voice tightening.
“It’s blah blah this and blah blah that,” said Abaddon, “the only thing you need to know is that when you die, you become a part of this library.”
“But doesn’t that mean Hell?” said Steve.
“Don’t think about that,” replied Abaddon. “I’m sure you’ll qualify for the library’s release program.”
“It can’t be much worse than my life,” sighed Steve, signing the agreement.
He spent hours rummaging through the books; most of them were about unknown people who had lived lives of quiet evil, died, and had gone to Hell.
Steve wanted desperately to win back his girlfriend Anna, so he spent most of his time in the Romance section. He finally settled on William McAlister, a regular guy like himself, who had had many girlfriends. His sin, as far as Steve could tell, was that he didn’t honor his father and mother. “I can live with that,” he thought. “I don’t much like my parents anyway.”
He checked out McAlister, who was grateful to be released from his endless torment. Immediately, Steve had new confidence and his mind overflowed with ways to romance Anna. He had an overwhelming desire to trade in his understated sports car for an oversized red pickup truck with a pair of chrome-plated plastic testicles hanging off the trailer hitch.
“Anna’ll like that,” thought Steve. “But first, I need to send her another text, something that’ll showcase my wit and caring, but not come on too strong.”
He immediately fired off a can’t-lose message: “Hey babe, you’re hot, I’m hot, let’s burn up the night.” Then he headed for the truck dealer.
It was a busy afternoon for Steve. After driving off in his new truck, he stopped for a beer at a bar he spotted on the way home. A couple of hours later and still no reply from Anna, he sent her a new message every half hour. Later, he headed out to get some rope and gasoline to kill his parents and burn down their house.
Fortunately for Steve’s parents, he never made it out of the bar’s parking lot before passing out.
Steve had a rough night. His dreams were filled with images of the eternal torment of the Pit mixed with visions of a burning house and an elderly couple helplessly bound together, while William McAlister stood outside, laughing.
When Steve woke up, he knew that McAlister had failed to honor his parents by murdering them and then selling his soul to the Devil to get away with his crime. His success with women had been financed with the insurance money.
Feelings of rage and betrayal fought with a massive hangover as he drove his new truck back to the library to confront Abaddon.
Abaddon was not at his usual post. Instead, a man bound in paper chains with the hilt of a plastic knife duct-taped to his head was at the desk.
“Where’s Abaddon?” said Steve, controlling his anger. “He lied to me. I checked out a murderer!”
“Of course he lied,” said Haborym. “We work for Satan. It’s what we do. He met his goal for new souls and was promoted downstairs.”
“I’m returning this life and I’m cancelling my library card,” said Steve.
“I’ll take McAlister back,” said Haborym, “but you can’t cancel your card. It says so right in the Terms. You can check out another life, but Satan still owns your soul. There’s no way out.”
In his heart, he knew Haborym was right. He was headed for unbearable pain for all eternity, he’d lost Anna, and his cat would never come back.
“You can always join SatanCo.,” said Haborym.
Steve had no choice. The next morning, he showed up at the library wearing an evil clown mask with ketchup stains on his clothes to start his first day as Official Greeter at the New York Public Library. If he enticed enough people down to the basement, he might some day earn a turn at the desk and eventually become a full-fledged demon.
Anna was spared any more attention from Steve and his cat eventually found his way to her apartment. They both had long and happy lives. Steve proved inept as a greeter and was last seen headed for the Pit. His book was duly placed on the library’s shelf, where it continues to gather dust.
* * * * *
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2018-11-01 07:44 pm (UTC)BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I laughed out loud four different times and each time scared: the cat, my husband, my son, and myself.
HYSTERICALLY funny shit, G! I mean, really devilishly amusing. You hit all the high and low notes here and the piece sings its dark melody.
Omg, when he left the bar to go kill his parents??? LOL, that was the perfect twist of your writerly
knifeskill. PERFECTLY timed.Poor Steve.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-02 03:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-01 08:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-02 03:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-01 10:53 pm (UTC)Well done.
no subject
Date: 2018-11-02 03:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-02 01:11 am (UTC)Now I know why you were asking me questions about the library's book-lending policy and hold requests. I just never thought it was leading to THIS. :O
an oversized red pickup truck with a pair of chrome-plated plastic testicles hanging off the trailer hitch.
/o\ I've seen those trucks AND those ornaments, and I would hate to meet any woman who would find THAT attractive!
He immediately fired off a can’t-lose message: “Hey babe, you’re hot, I’m hot, let’s burn up the night.”
So apparently, McAlister was also highly self-deluded. I wonder what he thinks coming on too strong would mean? Dick pics?
Later, he headed out to get some rope and gasoline to kill his parents and burn down their house.
Yikes! And here I was, still distracted by the idea that sending someone texts every half hour was a great way to bring them back... AFTER the restraining order. I never saw this coming.
Hilarious as usual!
no subject
Date: 2018-11-02 04:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-02 12:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-02 04:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-03 12:42 am (UTC)Right here is where I fell in love. As soon as I read this line I knew I was in for a ride. Great piece and excellent storytelling.
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Date: 2018-11-03 02:11 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2018-11-03 02:01 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2018-11-03 02:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-03 05:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-03 06:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-03 10:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-03 10:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-04 09:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-04 01:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-04 05:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-04 07:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-05 04:16 am (UTC)Love this, G!
no subject
Date: 2018-11-05 03:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-05 06:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-05 03:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-05 02:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-05 03:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-05 08:42 pm (UTC)Devilish Idea - the satan's library and the devil named minions.
Sheer brilliance
no subject
Date: 2018-11-06 12:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-05 10:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-06 12:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-11-05 11:16 pm (UTC)(that's all... the pun is all you need)
no subject
Date: 2018-11-06 12:09 am (UTC)