Published May 18, 2017 by

Memories of a Soul in the Underworld Chapter 27

Story Summary

Ethan is a soul in the Underworld with no memory of his life on Earth. He is bought and sold by various masters for centuries. Traveling from large industrial towns to scorching hot deserts. During his journey he picks up the skills, knowledge and magic to escape his enslavement. He runs with the intent of living a free life, but is pursued by agents until he's cornered on a remote mountain range. With little time left, Ethan begins to recount his life and masters in the hope of leaving a record of his existence. These are his memories.

The Factory

The last day.

The factory closed down two decades after I first walked through its doors. It wasn't our rotten masters' personality flaws, but the competition that killed Lynch textiles.

Several other companies had created machines that could thread ten times faster than ours, making it impossible to compete. The Underworld was changing, becoming more industrial, and thanks to Malcolm's son we soon fell behind.

Malcolm Jr. resembled his uncle Frederick more than his father. He was a tall man with dark red hair and too many teeth. He was nowhere near as terrible as his uncles, but was young, inexperienced, and had little interest in running the factory after his father's death. He had no choice but to gradually sell off souls and equipment as the company sunk into bankruptcy.

Then one day, he decided to give up completely.

In what resembled one of Fredrick's fits of madness, he forced us to carry the remaining looms, cotton, and furniture outside for a spontaneous yard sale. We lined everything up on the gravel field, then silently sat amongst the junk like inanimate objects waiting to be sold.

"Come one, come all!" Malcolm Jr. bellowed to the pedestrians on the street. "To the Lynch Brothers' liquidation sale. Today only, and then we're gone for good. Equipment and antiques at record low prices. You won't find looms this cheap anywhere in Azaelia! Did I mention that it's one day only!"

One by one the townspeople slowly filed in to pick over his inheritance.

"How much for this chair?" asked one large sweaty man dressed in a singlet and shorts. Two exhausted souls stood beside him waving paper fans.

"Twenty." Malcolm Jr. virtually glided across the field to make the deal. "But I'm willing to throw in a free soul if you buy the whole set."

The man scratched his chin. "Fine, I'll take them."

"Splendid!" My master enthusiastically shook the customer's hand. "A grand purchase that I'm certain you'll never regret! Can I also interest you in this spectacular collection of tea cups? They do say that the chipped and faded look is in these days."

"I have no use for those."

"Completely understandable, Sir. How about this antique dining table." He pointed to the wooden table that used to be in David's room. "It's been in my family for years and must be at least a century old. The stylish knife marks and stains even add to the design. It would definitely fetch at least fifty at a dealer, but today I'm willing to give it to you for the low low price of-"

"Just give me the damn chairs and soul already!" snapped the man.

"Of course," said my master with a strained smile. "Whatever you wish, Sir." He turned towards us souls and nervously examined us before his eyes rested on Twitchy. "Hey, you!" Malcolm Jr. barked. "Get up at once and accompany this fine gentleman!"

Twitchy hesitantly got to his feet and walked across the field to his new master. He turned to take one last look at me, but I silently sat there with my arms wrapped around my knees.

Twitchy was the only soul there who I somewhat cared about, even if he'd sell me out in an instant just to save himself. I wanted to say something, anything, as my only friend disappeared out of sight, but I couldn't make my mouth move.

I hadn't said a single word for years and I no longer knew how to speak.

I rested my head on my knees in defeat, and closed my eyes. It was just better to become as small as possible and pretend that I didn't exist.

Foreman, Anya, and most of their friends, were sold away years earlier, but I couldn't forget them. Even though Foreman was long gone, I could still hear his voice in my mind like a ghost speaking over my shoulder.

You're so pathetic, Girly Boy, I could imagine that bastard saying. Your little retarded friend is leaving you forever and you can't even say bye bye. Damn! You're one messed up son of a bitch. Never in my time here have I met anything as stupid as you. You were probably too stupid to even sell your soul for anything good. A guy like you deserves every bit of suffering that comes your way.

The self abuse continued in my head for hours like a broken record, until I was knocked over by someone. I unraveled myself and looked up to see a glaring Malcolm Jr. towering over my body.

"By Azazel, you're thick," he muttered. "How many times do I need to call you before you get your bloody butt off the ground. No wonder this place went down the drain."

I blinked and stared at him blankly. Unsure of what to do.

"Come on!" Malcolm Jr. growled. He grabbed my arm and forcefully yanked me to my feet. "It's time to meet your new master."

01, 02, 03, 04, 05, 06, 07, 08, 09, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 5051 ,52, 53