Storymania - Satan's Deeds by Jj Grinvalds

Satan's Deeds
Jj Grinvalds

Satan’s Deeds

“Ok, I have to go get to work now. You won’t be home when I get back, right?”
Jamie wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck and smiled.
“You make it seem like it’s a good thing.”
Steve smiled back. “No, it isn’t. I just have to show my boss something. I am actually somewhat excited to talk with him.”
“You are excited? Really now? I thought you hated him.”
Steve scratched his right arm nervously. “Well, he has his plus side, too. I mean, he isn’t always a jerk…”
“I understand, dear. All right then. Nope, I won’t be home. I will be at a conference and the kids will be next door so you can be home alone.”
“Thank you for arranging that. I would rather not be distracted by the kids when he’s here. You know how hard it is to deal with them sometimes.”
“Heh, I would know better than you.”
“Well I have to go now I will see you later tonight when you get back from your conference.” She smiled, rubbed his balding, gray haired head, and kissed him.
“Have a nice day at work, Steve.”
“Well… I’ll try. Bye now!”
Jamie closed the big, white front door, and Steve turned off of the front porch and smiled at the bright sun for a few moments; he had always loved the sun. He bent down, picked up his briefcase, and began walking to his car. Jamie was one of the only people that Steve would willingly talk to, and she was one of the only people that would actually make him happy. Of course, it wasn’t always that way with her, but he was happy today because of what he was going to do tonight.
He got up to the driver side door, clicked the “unlock” button on his keyless entry chain, and it opened.
This will be a good day…the car opened on the first try.
He was about to get in when he heard a noise behind him. It sounded like a small animal rushing at him at high speeds. He turned around and saw a small dog hopping at his feet. He froze up and tripped backwards against his car. He positioned his briefcase in front of his legs to protect himself from the squirrel sized poodle. The poodle energetically jumped up and down at Steve’s feet when his owner yelled for him.
“Mouse! Mouse! Come on now don’t bother him! I’m sorry about that! Mouse here gets very excited when he is around new people.”
Panting, even more than the dog, Steve wiped some sweat off his balding head with the sleeve of his shirt.
“Oh, it’s ok. I…don’t like dogs,” he said as he caught his breath.
“Sorry, again. You are lucky this wasn’t Bear. Bear would have torn you to pieces!” The man chuckled and Steve just glared at him, hunched over and scratching his right arm.
“Uh…But I must get going. Come, Mouse.”
The man and Mouse began jogging down the street and left Steve is his solitude once again.
Ugh! Why am I such a coward about the smallest things!? I am scared of everything! Can’t I be brave about anything? This is so embarrassing…Maybe today won’t be the good day I was hoping for. Another crap start to a most likely another crap day. God… please let me get through this day... Dangit!
He pulled the door of his car open and slammed it shut after he got in. He threw his briefcase to the back seat and tried to start his car. No luck the first attempt. He pumped the accelerator on the second attempt, and he got it started. He speedily backed out of his steep driveway and scraped his rear bumper. He stopped the car and smashed his fist against the steering wheel, making the horn give a short blast. He talked to God, counted to ten, and he was much calmer. His wife’s advice of talking to God more to take care of his problems seemed to be working. He put the car in drive and calmly drove off to work.
* * *
He parked in the front lot of Layco, and he instantly began feeling irritated. Just by looking at the large, brown building that he had seen for six years, Steve could subconsciously change his mood. He strongly disliked his job. He was supposed to be a graphic designer, but instead, he did paperwork. A whole bunch of paperwork. He walked up to the front door and went inside. He stared at his feet as he made his way to his desk on the third level. He shuffled over to the elevator, hoping to not see anyone inside when he got on. Luckily, when the doors opened, it was empty. It was just him and the elevator music. The six second ride was much too short for Steve, but he reluctantly got off on the third floor. He thought of possibly pressing all thirty buttons and riding the elevator up and down, but he decided against it. He thought he’d get caught and then he would have to deal with his boss. He shuffled on the dark red carpet and made the last leg of his journey to his desk. When someone tried to talk to him, he acknowledged him with a grunt and kept walking to his desk. He obviously did not want to talk to anyone. However, he didn’t really hate anyone there. Well, except for his boss, Mr. Riley. Steve despised the man almost as much as his hate for Satan.
* * *
At around ten o’clock, Mr. Riley strode over to Steve’s desk, looking sharp. He was much younger than Steve, and didn’t look any older than thirty.
“Hey, Steve. How’s it goin’?” asked Mr. Riley running his fingers through his short, but wavy brown hair. Mr. Riley would have much rather been looking in a mirror than talk to Steve. Then again, everyone felt that way when trying to talk to Steve. Still, he put down his pen and looked up from the paperwork he was working on.
“Oh, hey Mr. Riley. I am doing all right. I just have a lot of stuff to do.”
Pretty boy.
“Yeah, well I was just stopping by to make sure tonight was the night I will be stopping at your house. Seven o’clock, right?”
Steve dazed off for a second and stared longingly at his Mac.
I haven’t even turned that thing on this week. The whole reason I wanted this job was so that I could do some graphic designing! And here I am, doing paperwork and talking to “Mister” Riley...
“Steve? You there? ”
Steve continued to stare at his computer.
“Steve! Look at me when I am talking to you!”
Steve twitched and blinked his eyes. “Huh? Oh, sorry, sorry. Yes, it’s tonight. But could you be
anymore of an ass?
there at six? You must have misheard me earlier.”
Mr. Riley gave a sigh and looked at his watch. “Ya, I suppose I could be there at six.”
Steve grinned, “Thanks. I have some really exciting things to show you. I think you will be pleased.”
He’s only twenty eight.
“Well I hope so. I don’t like making house visits; especially when the person I am visiting could just as easily show up at my door.”
Steve scratched his right arm. “Yeah, sorry about that, sir. There is just…uh--too much to haul around, and it would take too long to set up again at your house,” lied Steve. “I hope you understand.”
I’m nearing forty. I shouldn’t be taking orders from this punk kid. He sure as hell better understand.
Mr. Riley sighed and turned away from Steve. “Yeah, I suppose. It had better be good, Steve.”
Who does he think he is!?
“Well, get busy now. I don’t want to see you dazing off like that again. Or else we will have to have a little talk. Oh, and after you are done there, I have some more paperwork for you to go through.”
Steve clenched his fists under his desk, but didn’t show the anger he felt on his face.
Punk!
“Ok, I will get to that,” his face reddening, “…when I’m done here.”
“Good. See you at six.”
“Yup, see you.”
Mr. Riley turned away and walked off to annoy some other workers. Steve slammed his fist onto the desk.
Bastard! He knows I hate this paperwork and would rather do what my job description says! No one else does paperwork here except for me! No matter, things should change soon. God, you gotta help me here.
Steve was not used to talking to God. Sure, he knew the Bible stories and hated Satan, but he never prayed until a few weeks ago when his wife of six years suggested it. He had been coming home drunk to ease his problems at work, but it was affecting his relationship with his wife and kids. Jamie would not talk to him for days after he would come home inexcusably drunk, and Steve hated it. He did not know who to turn to for help, but thankfully, Jamie was there to suggest it for him. He was getting better at cutting down on the drinking, but it was strange. While God had gotten him to be more sober, God had also given him a strange idea. Steve had thought about it many times himself, but never actually seriously considered it until God told him about it. He never thought he would be told to do it, but since it is God he’s dealing with, he decided he should probably do it. Of course, Steve wanted to do it as well…
* * *
It was now one PM, and Steve had been working on the paperwork since he had arrived that morning. For lunch, he had a peanut butter jelly sandwich that Jamie had made for him that morning. Too bad he did not have a drink to go with it—he forgot his usual bottle of water. He used to sneak in a can of beer, but hat got him nowhere. He put his pen down and laid his head next to it. He was now looking sideways at a family picture he had on his desk. They were at a lake, and they were all smiling. This caused Steve to smile as well, but by seeing the water, it only made him realize: He had to get a drink. He decided he’d get some coffee from a table nearby. He stood up, yawned, and stretched his arms to the ceiling. He shuffled over the dark red carpet over to the coffee machine that was shared by all the employees on the third floor. He rarely visited the coffee machine, but he had no other source of hydration. He stopped several feet away from the machine and looked at the table. It was covered in coffee puddles and wet napkins. Also on the table was a sign that read,

“Employees please clean up after yourselves. Thanks!”

Obviously, no one had read the sign. If he wanted coffee, he knew he’d have to clean up the mess. If he didn’t, he’d be the one to take the blame. He gathered up a handful of dry napkins, dried the wet spots, and threw the used napkins in the waste bin under the table. Finally, he was able to have his coffee. As he was leaving, Mr. Riley was behind him waiting to get a drink. Steve and he made eye contact, and he was able to tell that. Mr. Riley was irritated, but he was not sure why. He ignored the small detail and continued walking,
Several seconds later, he was stopped by a coffee-carrying Mr. Riley.
Eyes blaring, Mr. Riley faced Steve, who did not make eye contact. “Steve! Look at the coffee table! Why is it a mess!?”
Steve turned around to see the table once again covered in coffee.
“Sir, I don’t know. I did not make that—“
“Steve, look in your hand. Coffee, right?”
How about you look in your own hand, Ass.
“Are you going to try and tell me you did not make that mess?”
“Sir, you know I didn’t make it. I was there right befo—“
“Quiet! Steve, do not lie! Now go over there and clean that up!” yelled Mr. Riley, pointing towards the coffee table.
I can never win.
Steve looked Mr. Riley in the eye and glared at him. “Yes, sir,” Steve said, eyes on the floor.
Why do I take orders from this guy?
“I sure hope you can keep your house cleaner than this. I don’t want to walk into a messy house tonight,” Mr. Riley said rudely.
Steve said nothing but continued walking over to the table to clean it for the second time. Mr. Riley smirked and continued on his way around the office.
* * *
The rest of his day had gone smoothly. Well, as smoothly as it could get at Layco. He was harassed by Mr. Riley only one other time. It was something about not being committed to his job. Apparently, working six days a week was not showing enough commitment to Layco, so Mr. Riley suggested (told) Steve to come in more often. Thankfully, it was four o’clock and he was able to go home. He exited his office the same way he had entered—slouching and shuffling his feet. But once he got out of the parking lot, he began to skip a little and sped up his stride. He quickly jogged over to his car and tried to open it. The keyless entry didn’t work and he jumped and turned in frustration. He took a deep breath, turned back to the car, and manually opened it. He quickly entered his car, started it up, and began to drive home.
Got to get home. Got to be ready for tonight. Geez, Steve. Calm down, calm down. He wouldn’t make you do something you weren’t ready for.
He pressed his foot harder onto the pedal. A few moments later, he began to feel a tingle on the back of his neck. He shifted in his seat, but the tingle was still there. He brought up his right hand and brushed his neck. The tingle was now off his neck, but on his right hand. He took his eyes off the road and looked at his hand, where there was a rather large black spider. His eyes widened and his mouth formed a frightened and disgusted pose. He shook his hand fiercely, but it wouldn’t fall off. He took his left arm off the wheel and smashed it. He breathed deeply for a few breaths and wiped it off his wrist in disgust.
Suddenly, he was violently jerked in his eat. He had run into a pole while he wasn’t looking.
“Shit!” he yelled as he pounded his fists on the dashboard. He leaned back in his chair and put his hand to his forehead. It had a minor bump, but he was ok.
I don’t have time for this! I have to get home! God, what do I do? …I will just leave this here. Yes, I have no time for this. God, come on!
He opened his door, slightly dazed. He had a hard time gaining his balance when he stepped out of his smashed red Intrepid, but he was ok after a few moments. He took long, determined steps towards the direction of his home. He could get there by five thirty if he walked quickly enough, which would leave him with enough time to set up for Mr. Riley.
* * *
At last, Steve approached his front step at five o’clock. He attempted to unlock the door, but he missed the keyhole with his shaking hands. His second attempt allowed the key to go in, but he wasn’t able to turn it.
“Dammit!” he yelled and he smacked his hand against the door.
A moment later, Jamie opened the door with her mouth open.
“What happened? What’s wrong? …Where is your car?”
Steve glared at his wife.
“I don’t want to talk about this. I really need to think for a bit. I need a beer.”
Steve tried to get past her, but he was foiled by his wife who stopped him at the doorway.
“No! I don’t think so!”
“Out of my way…hey, you shouldn’t even be here! What happened to the conference?”
“I couldn’t go. Rebecca threw up in school today, and I had to pick her up and stay home with her. She is still pretty sick. I think that instead of getting drunk, you should go and talk with your kids. Especially Rebecca, she needs someone to talk to. She seems scared about tonight, but I don’t see why. She says she had a bad dream about tonight and she’s scared for us. Will you calm her down?”
Steve stared at the floor. What would he do? He needed an empty house. He didn’t want his family around.
“…what will you do when Mr. Riley gets here?” asked a calmer Steve, scratching his right arm furiously.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be with Rebecca upstairs. I’ll read her a book.”
Well, I suppose this is all I could have hoped for. I’ll just have to not make as big of a scene…
He looked up at his wife, “Ok, I will go talk to her,” mumbled Steve.
“Thank you. We will worry about your car later. Family comes first right now. The boys are spending the night at friend’s houses, and Rebecca is upstairs in her room. I will be in the family room reading.”

Steve shuffled up the stairs and knocked on his daughter’s door.
“Come in.” called a very high, yet coarse voice.
He entered and saw her lying down with her eyes closed on her bed with a crimson blanket on top of her.
“Mom says you wanted to talk to me.”
Rebecca opened her eyes and mumbled, “Yeah…Daddy, don’t do it.”
Steve sat on the other side of her bed. “Do what? I’m just going to show my boss some exciting new stuff I’ve made for work.”
“No, no…you’re lying. Please don’t do it, Daddy.” A tear rolled down her cheek.
“Aww, come on now, darling, you must be really sick. How are you feeling?”
She mumbled a few undecipherable words.
Come on, come on, I can’t be here that long.
“Ok,” Steve patted her bed, “I’ve got to get going now. I’ve got some things to do.”
Steve got up from her bed and began to leave when she spoke up from behind him.
“Wait. Wait, come back,” she struggled to say. “I-I had a nightmare about you and mommy. You came home and you were really upset and--
(cough)
Steve’s mouth dropped slightly while Rebecca coughed and took a breath.
“and you didn’t want to talk with mommy because she wasn’t s’posed to be home and”
And oh my God!
“Then you said you needed a drink and—“
But Steve cut her off with a shaky voice. “S-sweetie, this is n-nonsense. You need to—to uh-- stop eating so much candy,” he said with a fake smile.
Rebecca just turned away. “Please, Daddy…”
Steve couldn’t take this. He had a chance to get out of there, and he took it. He needed a beer. That would calm him down.
“I have to go now. Just….just get some rest.”
He glanced at his watch
Oh shit!
It was seven minutes until six. He decided he’d skip the drink. That’s when a very loud, echoing chime filled the house. It was the doorbell. It was Mr. Riley. He was early!
Oh God!
This was it. It didn’t’ matter that his family was at home. This is what God told him to do, and he would fulfill his wishes. He ran down the stairs only to see his wife in the entry way talking with Mr. Riley. They both turned to Steve, who stopped in his tracks.
“Hey, Steve. I don’t have long, so could we hurry up please?”
“Y-ya…ya. Ahem. Ya, sure. I just need to grab something.”
“Hurry up, Steve. You seem even more unorganized at your own home.”
“Just…just wait here and I’ll be back with my things.” He turned to Jamie, “Jamie, as you obviously know by now, this is my boss, Mr. Riley. Just have a little talk and I’ll be back shortly” Steve said while scratching his right arm and faking a smile.
He walked past the both of them and down the long, dark blue hallway that led into the kitchen. He avoided eye contact with all the framed pictures of him with his family that were hung in the hallway.
Oh God this is it Oh God.
He reached high up in a cupboard to retrieve his new handgun he had purchased solely for this. Wide eyed, he stared down at the gun in his shaking right hand.
Oh God…help me.
He shut his eyes and bowed his head for a final prayer. He went into a trance like state, and his head rolled around his neck as if he was stretching it, and his hand stopped shaking. Moments later, he opened his now fiery eyes. He heard Jamie and Mr. Riley talking in the entryway, and his feet took him towards the sounds. He stopped at the end of the long, dark blue hallway, holding the gun by his right side. Jamie was blocking Mr. Riley, who could not see Steve. She wouldn’t get in the way. This was God’s work. He placed both hands on this pistol and held it up and away from himself.
“Jamie, get out of the way…”
Jamie turned around and she jumped up.
“Oh, God! What are you doing, Steven!?” she shrieked, clutching her heart.
“Just get out of the way. This is what God himself has told me to do,” he said with unwavering hands. “You have five seconds…one…”
Jamie was in shock; she couldn’t move.
“Jamie, what’s going on?” asked a curious Mr. Riley.
“…two…” Steve narrowed his eyes.
Jamie still did not move. She was stiff as a board.
“…three…” Steve was not himself. He had lost all control over his body. He could not even form a single sane thought. All he could think was
KILL Mr. Riley. No matter what it takes.
It repeated in his head over and over. These were not the thoughts Steve wanted to think. Deep inside his body, there was another part of Steve yelling at him to snap out of it. To put the gun down. The two parts were fighting on the inside while Steve continued to count on the outside.
“…four…”
His lips began to tremble. Sweat poured off of his forehead and down his face. They continued to fight. It’s a shame that the part that was trying to prevent him from killing Jamie was too weak.
With a quivery voice, he spat, “…five.”
Steve shut his eyes, cocked the gun, and pulled the trigger.
NOOOOOOOOOO!
Less than half a second later, Jamie was lying on the ground in her own blood. Steve had shot her in the chest.
Mr. Riley was now able to see all that was occurring. All the blood drained from his face.
“Steve! Come on! I know I haven’t been the most caring person towards you in the past, b-but I will do better! I won’t make you do any more busy work! Please, just put the gun down!” He knelt by Jamie’s body and his hands splashed in the blood.
Steve fell to one knee and scratched his right arm, his eyes flooding.
WHY why why why!?!?
He let his head drop down and he stared at the floor, tears slowly gathering onto the wood.
“No, Mr. Riley…it’s too late for you,” replied Steve, talking through tears.
“Steve, no! Shhh, just calm down. H-hand me the g-gun,” ordered his shaky voice.
This order from Mr. Riley caused Steve to go into the trance again. He shut his watery eyes.
I’m SO sick of orders.
“H-hand me t-he g-gun,” ordered the same shaky voice, only this time it was much more distant and it had a large echo to it. The part of Steve that was trying to give the gun away fell deep within once again, and another part of Steve became more powerful and shut out the other. He opened his eyes, and he stopped trembling. With his eyes blaring once again, he stood up and stared right into Mr. Riley’s eyes, who had made his way over Steve while his eyes were closed. They were now only two feet apart.
“S-s-s-teve?…” asked Mr. Riley. He had put his open palms up in front of his torso as if it would protect him against Steve.
He took a deep breath and spoke. “Hello, Mr. Riley. Would you follow me please?” Steve asked in a seemingly calm voice, which frightened Mr. Riley even more. Steve’s eyes were blaring and his face showed no expression, but he had the most kind voice he had ever heard Steve use.
Steve began to walk down the hallway towards the front door, his hands folded behind his back and his head held high. Mr. Riley did not follow.
“Come on now,” Steve motioned him to follow with the gun, almost threateningly.
Mr. Riley followed, but very cautiously. He could not escape. Steve was between him and the doorway. He was sweating almost as much as Steve was.
Steve knelt by Jamie, whose blood was covering much of the wood in the entry way.
“Tsk, tsk tsk…” He turned his head to face Mr. Riley. “Mr. Riley, would you look at this mess you made?” asked Steve in the kindest of voices.
“S-steve, I-I don’t know wha—“
“Oh, Mr. Riley. Don’t lie to me. Look at your hand, it’s all bloody. Are you going to try and tell me you did not make that mess? Steve asked in a voice that seemed almost as though it was a mothers’. His eyes burrowed deep within Mr. Riley’s.
Mr. Riley dropped his jaw and stared down at his crimson hands. He knew what Steve was getting at.
“Steve, y-you can’t be serious—“
“Come now, Mr. Riley, don’t try and get out of this. You have blood on your hands. You surely must have done this. Isn’t that the most logical explanation?
Mr. Riley had no reply. He was frozen where he stood. Just then, Steve’s mother-like trance faded quickly, and he smashed his right elbow into Mr. Riley’s gut and slammed him against the wall. He doubled over and coughed. Steve stared down at his boss and grinned. He slid the gun over his heaving back and onto the back of his head.
“Now,” Steve began to say in a very slow and calm voice. “Clean up this mess.”
Mr. Riley stared down at the bloody floor, and before he could get a word out, Steve had pulled the trigger. Mr. Riley instantly fell on top of Jamie.
There was silence for what seemed like hours. Steve was breathing very deeply and loudly, his chest moving in and out very noticeably with each breath. He scratched his limp right arm that was still holding the gun. The smell of blood filled the house. His eyes began to lose their blaze, and he began to realize all that had taken place. The part of him that wanted to kill was now completely gone, and Steve was now himself once again.
He shook his head and blinked several times, his eyes bouncing from Mr. Riley to his wife.
No.
Blood covered both of them, and his floor.
No no no no no no.
Steve’s right hand went limp and the gun fell on top of the bodies. He stared at his wife and Mr. Riley and began to hyperventilate. He fell to his knees and wept.
“God! Why did you choose me for this!?”
Sweating profusely, he bowed on the ground and pounded his fists.
I wasn’t ready. I lost control. My poor wife! How could I do this!? How could you make me do this!? Why!?
He lifted his head and saw the gun, which stared back at him. It was calling to him. There was only one thing left for him to do.
I’ve ruined my life. I’ve ruined everything.
Steve got onto his knees and wiped away the tears on his face. He was not done yet, and he knew it. He had lost everything, except his kids. Oh, his poor kids. Especially Rebecca. She must have heard what had happened. And she knew he would do this. Somehow she knew. What was he to do with her? He tried to think, but it was too hard. Without much more though, he decided he’d have to take the easy way out.
His trembling hand reached for the gun that was lying awkwardly on top of Mr. Riley’s dead body. He opened his mouth wide and placed the gun in. He blinked several times very quickly, the tears making them stick slightly. He looked up at the ceiling, and had one last talk with God.
God, I don’t understand. I don’t know what’s happening. Everything was going alright. I don’t see why I had to do this. I don’t know why you told me to. Why now? Why ever?! I was not ready, not ready. No, not me. How can this be what you wanted!?
He opened his eyes, and lowered his head to stare, one last time, at his wife. That’s when he realized it. He followed a trail of blood from her chest that ran onto the floor. Next to his wife’s arm was a bloody pattern. It was unnatural. Inside the blood, three numbers were formed.

“666”

Steve’s eyes widened and he began to shake all over. He finally realized why things had happened. It wasn’t God that was giving him this order. It was Satan. It felt like a vacuum cleaner was shoved down his throat and sucked out his insides. It was not possible to feel any more awful and empty. Seeing this sign, he knew he had made the worst mistake he could have ever made. With nothing else to lose, he took a firm grip on the gun, and fired. His limp body fell on top of Mr. Riley’s. Down in Hell, the Devil was laughing; his plan couldn’t have gone better. On the other side, even though He had put many obstacles in Steve’s path, it was not enough. Up in Heaven, God shed a tear.