Published April 04, 2017 by

Memories of a Soul in the Underworld Chapter 24

Summary: Long ago I sold my soul and doomed myself to an eternity in the Underworld. I did everything they wanted for centuries, but no more! I'll find a way out of my destiny or die trying! I leave you my story in the hope that someone else can succeed if I fail.

Click here for earlier chapters 

The Town Where He Once Was.

Many years later.

Foreman and I met again long after the factory closed its doors and I'd been through several masters. The Lynch brothers may have been long gone, but the invisible scars still remained. Some even to this day. For years I couldn't look at a cotton sheet without drowning in anxiety, but as time passed (and new problems replaced the old) the memories gradually faded, until my life there felt like a horror story that happened to somebody else.

I was in a different industrial town. Far away from Azaelia and probably now gone thanks to poverty and war. It was full of large townhouses, factories, and mortals who barely talked to each other. In those days tall brick furnaces burned for days on end, sending thick black smoke and ash billowing into the sky. It would gradually float down to the ground like black snow. Accumulating on every surface. Dying the streets gray. Even when we cleaned it away it would soon return. Again and again until I had to give up and resign myself to being constantly covered in soot.

I found him there. Foreman, or what was left of the guy.

He stood on a cobblestone street corner selling red roses from a small battered cart. "Two for one coin!" he called out in a voice which lacked the power it once had.

You'd never believe that it was the same man who used to terrorise over one hundred souls.

He was wearing an old gray coat full of holes along with a tattered top hat. His feet were bare, face smeared with dirt, and clothes covered in ash like he hadn't left that spot in days.

"Hey," I said as we stood face to face. The tormentor and the tormented meeting again after so many years.

I looked him straight in the eyes (he was shorter than I remembered) and searched that face for any acknowledgment. I was certain that his mouth would curve into a grin and the insults would start, but Foreman's face remained blank and he continued selling those damn roses like I wasn't even there.

"Two for one coin!" he called out again.

"Hey!" I cried to grab his attention. "Don't you remember me?"

"Two for one coin!"

"Can you stop that already," I growled. "It's me, Girly Boy!" I despised saying that name but I wanted him to know exactly who I was. "Drop the act already! I know there's no way that you'd ever forget." I pulled my hood down to expose my face and hair, but there was no change in his expression.

"Two for one coin!"

"I was in the factory."

"Two for one coin!"

"Every day you made me want to die."

"Two for one coin!"

"You gave me to that sick bastard and left me there."

"Two for one coin!"

"You took my best friend and turned her into a monster."

"Two for one coin!"

"You made me do terrible things to myself and others for your own sick entertainment."

"Two for one coin!"

"Hey I'm talking to you, Foreman!"

"Two for one coin!"

That's when I lost my patience and punched him.

I directed all my hate and anger into that one hit, but it was only enough force to push him backwards. His feet tripped on the street curb and he collapsed onto the ash covered stone. His face still expressionless like being hit meant nothing.

Foreman didn't get up. Instead letting himself lie there like I had many years earlier when he tossed me aside. Muttering "two for one coin" again and again like he didn't know how to stop.

That's when I saw the truth that I failed to notice through all my hate and pain.

Foreman was broken.

The all mighty soul overlord had finally met a master who he couldn't manipulate through charisma and lies. He'd been beaten down and screwed over so badly that he'd lost all sense of self.

The soul before me was just a shell of the man he used to be.

I gritted my teeth in frustration.

It wasn't supposed to be like that. I was supposed to make him suffer. I was supposed to inflict all the pain he dealt me tenfold, but instead someone else had beaten me to it, leaving nothing behind.

My fist was still shaking but it was meaningless to continue.

I quickly covered my head and hastily walked away. Cursing a man who was already long gone. I felt empty, then angry at myself for holding onto such hate.

The next day that soul was still there. Repeating the same words over and over again (nothing else) as he sold sooty flowers for a master who only came to restock them. I tried talking to him several times, but no matter what I did, nothing changed.

He was there the following week, then the following month too. I walked past him every day, until the man I resented more than anything, just became another part of the scenery that I took for granted.