What could prompt such a lightning striking succession of events such as these,
one moment all is an orchestra of chaos, then the conductor appears a gangly gaunt man in a suit.
He snaps his fingers, deafening silence invades; nothing heard not even the cool morning breeze,
dressed as pitch black tar with a hacksaw smile stretching ear to ear giving rise to the mute.
Crimson and hazel Eyes deadlock whether of resilience or a sense of being filled with vile dread,
he breaks the standstill first with his eerie ominous guttural voice uttering "don’t be so uptight."
Calm as a madman's lullaby he pulls out a set of the chair’s from the air colored in Venetian red,
He gestures with his hand politely yet menacingly as if to instill a sense of obedience and fright.
He moderates his tone like a salesman’s pitch saying "I’ve come here because I like you."
Keenly aware that isn’t the case by his overall predatory demeanor and stature.
Before you can properly access the gravity of the situation he states "I’ve made a deal or two,
so please have a seat my friend I’m not here for your end I want to discuss a suture."
Unsure if you can decline, you traipse forward breaking line of sight for a moment only,
regaining your vision on the insidious stranger of otherworldly means you shudder.
Not sure if your eyes were playing tricks on you, but his visage turned hollow and ghastly,
For a split second, you could have sworn he was horrifically burnt and heard the trace of thunder.
Resuming his speech, "good … I’m glad we could sit down and talk about this civilized,
now then son of Adam what is it you desire, fortune, fame, women, all are within my reach.
I am the power of the air I can manifest any poison mankind has ever contrived,
filling the worldly needs of those in want is what you might say is my marketing niche."
Twiddling thumbs, you hope and pray silently this is all a night terror of soon you’ll awaken,
but he raises a brow and snaps his fingers assuring you with his overbearing voice "I am real."
A meager quiet voice pops out of you, "I don’t need anything… but uh.. thanks, any… way?"
Glaring, his pupils tighten making a snake's slit stating "I didn’t come here for your beau ideals."
Eyes making you feel as though you were an ant trapped underneath a magnifying glass,
If you could spontaneously combust, you would certainly be incinerated by his gaze.
Stammering to get your question out, "what exactly do I have to give in return if I may ask?"
Smirking as the corners of his mouth touch his ears, "your soul is what I’ll come to claim."
Looking away you can’t believe you're doing this but it’s not as if you could actually refuse,
as you carefully say "I want it all … everything, money, fame, women." Feeling ashamed.
Giddy he laughs in a ocean of voices as he takes out a contract leaving you obtuse,
taking a pin out of his right breast pocket, “blood always gives a true name for us to claim."
You prick your finger and touch it to the paper as the ringing goes off in your ears,
opening a drowsy eye you slam your hand down on the off button of the clock to start the day.
Getting up you walk to the bathroom glad it was only a dream, such a relief to your fears,
hearing the phone ring, you walk back to see what it is while you were sleeping the night away.
A voicemail, but no missed calls the thought of who it could be crosses your mind,
dialing, you decide it would be best to hear what the message is after your nights' wild ride.
Entering your password you listen in, as the voice reverberates to your deepest despair inside,
"just remember I have delivered my end so at the end of 10 years there’s no use trying to hide."