Chapter 29: Buried alive

Mary stared out of her grimy window across the desolate fields at the gathering gloom. With her fingernail she flicked a scale of peeling white paint from the window frame. Out in the fields, the disorderly jumble of weeds that had once been a thriving crop looked more like barbed wire maliciously strewn across a battlefield. At the far end of the dusty rows she could imagine an enemy horde crouched behind the black trees. She felt tired, but she was afraid to go to bed; afraid to sleep. She walked to her door and opened it. She looked down the hall. Dark shadows and shapes. She tiptoed down the hall, past Uncle Jonathan's room. She could not hear a sound. Mary crept down the hall, holding her breath; boards creaking in the quiet. Images flashed through her mind. The hallway opened out into the dingy living room. Mary wanted to flee; get out of there; run. She crossed the room and touched the cold metal doorknob. But where could she go?
Mary turned and went softly back to her room. She tried to stay awake; fought it, lost. Not for the first time, she cried herself to sleep.
Mary found no rest in sleep. She tossed and turned. She was walking down a long, dimly lit corridor. Dark doorways in the corridor seemed somehow malicious. The corridor opened out into a bright, cheery courtyard with marble benches and a fountain surrounded by marble statues. Mary lay down on one of the benches. Instantly, she felt warm and safe. White light flooded over her, filling her with a sense of protection and peace. It was a peace she had never before felt in her turmoil-filled existence. She savored the moment, hoping to keep it within her. But she could not hold it. Slowly it faded, leaving a dream within a dream.
In its place was an indefinable sense of unease that gradually grew toward something like fear and disgust. A darkness descended over Mary like enormous black, suffocating wings. Mary fought for breath, tried to scream but couldn't. The blackness oppressed her, buried her alive. She struggled against the unseen evil, but was powerless in its grasp. Her screams went unvoiced, unheard.

Chapter 28: A good bet

Screwtape was in a good mood. Souls were pouring in like cash from a slot machine. In fact, exactly like cash from a slot machine. The new casinos in Glubwart’s district were starting to pay off.
“It’s a sweet machine, chief,” Glubwart told him. “It just keeps coming. The idiots keep pulling the levers. They put in bad money after good. When it’s almost all gone, they get a few coins back, and that encourages them to keep going. Or they get a little ahead, then they get greedy, and it all drains away. Then they try to win it back! It’s comical, I tell you! The divorce rate is through the roof. One man emptied his retirement savings, then wound up losing his house. The whole family is on the dole.”
“Good work, Glubwart,” Screwtape stroked his top soul-winning demon.
Glubwart couldn’t stop gloating. “The possibilities are endless. One woman gambled away all of her housekeeping money, then cleaned out her checking and savings accounts. I’m anxious to see what happens when her husband finds out. Should be juicy.”

———
Jennifer Simmons staggered through her front door, drunk and dazed. She couldn’t believe what she had done. The money was just gone. She slumped down on the couch and put her head in her hands. Her husband stalked into the room. “At it again?”
“Don’t start,” she muttered.
“How much this time?”
“All.”
“What do you mean, ‘all?’”
“What part of ‘all’ don’t you understand?”
He stood there for a moment, speechless, breathless, unbelieving. Then the screaming started. “Bitch!” “Asshole!” “Loser!” “I’m gonna...” “Yeah, right. You never!” “You always!”
Don Simmons disappeared into the bedroom. When he came back, a .357 magnum was in his hand. Seconds later, Jennifer Simmons’ head exploded and soaked their fine Persian carpet.