© 2006 James Quinton

everyone is a writer

i don't know

if

it is

a good or

bad thing

words on

paper

now

seemingly

roll freely

for

everyone

spent

sometime

thinking about

all

those

novels being

written

all over

the world

all those

sentences

paragraphs

and lines

but just

because

you

write

doesn't make

you a

writer

what makes

you a

writer

is getting

novels

on bookshelves

brought

and seen

by readers

who aren't

related

or friends

Entertaining the Devil

So,

I'm here at last

The place is packed

Rapists, paedophiles,

Murderers, dictators,

Estate agents, misers,

Poets, fundamentalists,

Boy band members,

Heads of multi national

Corporations,

Death catches up with

Everyone

And for us here now,

It's time to pay for our sins

We're all tagged with numbers

A tallying of our fuck ups

I've a relatively low score 23

Tony Blair passes

Head down, crying like a baby

He's tag reads 7888666

We're in a queue

Heading slowly towards a giant door,

Blue flames lick around the edges,

Flames also lick from the cold stone walls

And up from the rocky ground,

Nasty little red imps prance about

Goading the souls in the queue

"Lake of fire, murderer!"

"Britney! Extreme, violent torture for eternity!"

"Ha ha ha"

Crying, wailing,

Screams of pain,

Echo all around

The heat is unbearable

"What's through the door?" I ask one of the imps

"Ha ha, that is were your fate is sealed!"

"Huh?"

"Entertain the Devil and you might win a reprieve!"

I look at the queue

Every now and then

My feet shuffle forward

'Entertain the Devil?'

Time passes slowly,

But eventually

I'm next,

I step in

Ducking a flame

As I go

The room is dark,

The wailing, crying

And screaming gone,

All is quiet

Except a heavy breathing

And muffled sounds

I step forward

And as I do

A red glow

Covers the room,

I look up and there

Sits the Dark Lord,

Towering over the room

Surrounding him are women

And a few guys

Slaves of Beelzebub,

Pleasuring his enormous member

I spot Britney, looks like

She managed a reprieve of sorts,

She licks, as the others do

Furiously at his thing

"Entertain me." The Devil booms,

His eyes glowing a fierce red

"Ok, erm." I begin rubbing my hands.

"Have you heard the one about the...?"

"Urm." He pauses, "no...HA HA HA HA"

He thunders

"What about the one with the...?"

"HA HA HA HA HA" The Devil laughs,

Picking off a woman who is not

Performing well and throwing

Her into a pit of fire,

The others step up pace

"Have you ever seen a man dance like this?" I ask

I begin to wiggle and gyrate,

Flinging myself in all directions

I also start to sing a silly tune

"Ok enough, enough." He says laughing

He points towards a wall

A door opens up

I walk through...

fingertips cold

sitting in

the dimming

evening light

almost dark

the cold of

an unheated house

seeping in

around me

bleak

electronic beats

play on the

stereo

the only sound

breaking

what would

be an  

unearthly silence

trying to write

trying to

make

things happen

but

the only thing

that is happening

is that my

fingertips are

getting cold

and my

inspiration

is miles away

All work is property of James Quinton.

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