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The Work of the Devil

Malek Allari | Editor-In-Chief

“The basic thing that makes us different from savages and beasts is our heart. The heart holds the power to change someone. Even if it is early to get attached, as long as someone knows that another holds them dear in their heart, they will forever be human. That is the sole reason that makes the mind and the heart go their separate ways. They simply are not “programmed” to cooperate. As long as we have our minds, we “feel” fear, doubt, and distrust. Fear is only a thought that we generated that defines something has no courage to do or say. That is why fear was never in our mindset until the cowards introduced it to the world. To truly live, either the heart or the mind must be sacrificed. We all heard that we have to follow our hearts but to take our minds with us. The time that happens, humans will have no reason to continue but to fight. With fighting, revenge awakens, and then evil will be born. The innocent will be victorious, but then they will be guilty. That time has passed, and now as we live our days, no one is truly innocent. Our race has long given up on innocence, and now, we live in guilt. The ones who we declare guilty are no more than people who had shown the true colors of humanity. In the world of fiction, we will soon pass judgment upon ourselves. And if we do not, we shall ask the power of wizards and witches to look deep into our dark hearts. Once they do, humanity shall know and see how dark and evil we have become. Some might say that it is the work of the devil, but it is the work of our minds.”

My wife read the note I wrote many years ago. She had a beautiful silky voice, shiny brown hair, and hazel eyes. Her smile shines and lightens up my life. I loved her so much. We were lying on our bed, and she was between my arms. I could smell the fresh scent of jasmine in her hair. Lovely. Majestic. Heavenly. She is the only one I am comfortable with, I could just pour everything on her, and she will do the same on me.

“I love you, darling,” I said with tears in my eyes. I always dreamed of the night with my wife between my arms. Tears of joy. I felt her lips touch mine, and then I was drowned in her love.

Love…a word that I still can’t understand. What does it really mean? I hear people saying it to each other, but what is the purpose. I said it so many times, but I never felt its power until now. “I love you, too,” she replied. It felt like I was hit by a train. I may as well jump from a plane just to save her.

I woke up with a jolt. Tears were running down my face. It’s been years since my wife died. I still cling to her memory, a memory that I will forever hold so dear. I followed my heart, but now, I feel dull. Pain in my chest, that is all. I wish I could hear that “I love you, too,” again. I closed my eyes. Took a deep breath and just cursed the day I ever felt love. I curse the day that I just thought to follow my heart, a day for the trash.

“I wish you killed me too,” I thought loud just when my daughter came in. She does not remember her mother, she was young back then. “Daddy, are you ok?” she asked while rubbing her eyes. The split image of her mother, why am I suffering like this. “It’s ok. I will take care of you, after all, I promised mommy, didn’t I?” Tears streaming down my face. “I can see your mother in you, sweety. I am sorry for being a pain on the butt,” I said and laughed. Shed laughed too. I promise to keep our daughter happy and safe. I pulled my daughter into my arms. She sobbed for a while just as I let her tear up on my shirt. “It’s ok. Everything will be ok.” I kissed my daughter’s head and pulled her away.

“Let me see that sweet smile,” I said as I looked at her laughing face. “I love you, darling.” She stood there, looking deep into my eyes. She nodded. I held her tightly, “I am not letting you go until I hear it back. You need to let your feelings out, do not imprison them. Tell them, even if it is a harsh truth.” She had tears in her eyes again. “I hate you, daddy. I hate you for not protecting mommy.” She held this feeling for thirteen years. “I am fourteen now, but I don’t recall ever loving you,” she continued. I was frozen, not being able to move a muscle. “I hate me, too,” I replied. She looked up, stunned. I kept whispering and repeating it. “It is only natural to hate me when I hate myself. It’s painful, but the pain is part of the journey. Even if you hate me, I will always love you. You don’t have to love me back,” I said. I stood up and went to my disk. I gave her the note that her mother read many times. “As long as I hold you so dear in my heart, you will stay human. You will have a place to call ‘home.’ If you left me and decided to show up many years later, I will welcome you with open arms. Love is a feeling that you can return to at the harshest times. Remember, sweety, daddy loves you,” I said. She left my room with tears in her eyes.

The last time I heard my daughter’s voice was when she said she is going to school. The work of the devil. I spend my time in misery, I hate myself with passion. I never heard my daughter say, “I love you.” She died hating me.

A man entered my room, he was the new nurse. He was a handsome young fella, with blonde hair and grey eyes. “You need to let them go ahead. They are together now, and they are waiting for you. But if you don’t let them go, you might never join them,” he said with a paper in hand. I felt angry, and hatred grows inside of me. “I hate you,” I said.

“I know. You hated me a long time ago, old man,” he replied. “the work of the devil, it is a fancy piece of note. How did you know?” he asked.

“I knew it because that is what I see. There is no concept or thought ever passed on to humanity without actually existing. I wonder what happened to you all this time, my friend? First, you took my wife and then my daughter. You have a lot of guts to show up here. I knew love and hatred all thanks to you, Lucifer. I owe you one. Are they really waiting for me? I wonder,” I replied as I put my head down on my pillow. “You know, I keep hallucinating the past, but it brings comfort.”

“You might have thought this through, but I am immortal. You can’t kill me, no way, that you could send me back to hell,” Lucifer said and laughed maniacally. “You forgot one thing, Lucifer. I am an author,” I replied. I looked down and saw my wife’s face. “Where have you been, my love?” she asked. I hugged her tightly. “I missed you,” I said with tears streaming down my miserable face. Well played, mortal. You made me believe that you were living reality, while, in fact, you imagined all this. Well played.


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