THE DEVIL'S WORK (excerpt of a story, based on poem The Devil's Work)

...Walking hurriedly towards the large imposing oak doorway his excitement he finds so hard to contain; the click of his feet on the concrete a tune to one he feels like dancing.  Oh, how he adores that feeling when he knows all his hard and tedious work, of collating times and movements; watching and learning will come to fruition.  What a clever man he was!  Not that he was ever one to sing his own praises, not a manner in which he was taught from the outset in life. 

To pat oneself on their own back would be, in the words of his Mother “like rubbing yourself up; indulgent and sickening!”  “Be a servant to those around you and don’t wallow in a lust for self appreciation!”  Something his Mother had often impressed upon him, she was never one to hold him, or give in to his pathetic yearnings for attention.  She would frequently tell him to disappear; she despised his silly little limp and constant whining. 

So he did, disappear that is; all the time into the darkness of his solitary room where he spent much of his childhood.   The dvd recorder his only friend; a constant companion with an endless library of conversation and images that would help him lose himself into the darkness.  Most of the films weren’t even legal; what he managed to find on the internet, dodgy car boot sales!  After a while it became a bit of an obsession, and the more grotesque and evil the better.  Snuff movies, I believe the correct term, something he found out later in life, when he got into his teenage years! 

He was only five when he saw his first film, one that I believe a past ‘Uncle’ had left behind when he left to go on his ‘travels’!  He will never forget the fear and horror that he felt, but there were other emotions, stirring deep within him that at the tender age of five he couldn’t and shouldn’t understand.

....His knuckles rap on the large solid oak door, and he takes a step back to take in the beautiful view that he will soon behold.  The tension within his body grips him like a vice around his torso and shudders all the way into his aching loins.  This anticipation is what keeps this master on his toes, like an athlete waiting for the starting gun; a greyhound in the traps, just before it is released upon the poor helpless rabbit.  His mind albeit focused is building into a frenzy; his breathing is now rapid, he can feel the excitement fighting with his body daring to explode out of his very soul. He leans closer in to hear the footsteps approach, and as the door slowly opens .....  “Oh my sweet child”, he whispers under his putrid breath, looking on in swift admiration; before he takes down his spoils and gets on with a hard day’s work...