The Book of Abaddon

The man sat pathetically alone on the snow-covered steps outside the run-down apartment building. He was crying. An ugly kind of sob, the kind that only makes onlookers feel pity, not sympathy.

Abaddon watched with nothing more than indifference. He knew why the man was crying. A bad gambling addiction caused the man to no longer afford medical care for his cancer-ridden son. An easy enough target.

It was around 2 a.m. when Abaddon approached him. To mortals, Abaddon appeared as a stretching shadow, never truly taking the form of a human body. The only distinguishable aspect of Abaddon was the demon’s eyes and mouth, which were somehow a deeper black than the rest.

“Down on your luck, I see.”

Abaddon’s voice ran deep, chilling the blood of whatever was unfortunate enough to hear. The man snapped to attention. He looked up at Abaddon with wide eyes -eyes that showed his very soul screaming in fear. He scrambled backward on his elbows up the stairs, trying to distance himself from Abaddon. The man slipped on the stair, sliding down them, cutting a sizable wound into his arm.

Blood, thought Abaddon, how...refreshing.

“Holy sh-”

A wave of the ghostly hand silenced the man, who was sprawled across the steps, frozen in fear. His mouth was still moving, though. Perhaps he was praying. A man of faith? Or maybe just a man at the end of his rope. It didn’t matter. Abaddon just hated when they begged for their lives. The sound of human cries annoyed him to no end. Silent fear... silent fear is what drove Abaddon.

“I have a proposition for you,” the guttural nature of Abaddon’s voice echoed across the empty street. “Your weak addiction has brought you to this point. Your child resents you, your wife despises you, but you can change that.”

The man tried to speak, but no sound escaped his lips. With another wave of Abaddon’s hand, his voice was returned.

“Yeah?” The man questioned. “H-how?”

It was a natural instinct to question. It didn’t matter what Abaddon said next, the man was desperate. Like a worm on a hook, the man was trapped.

“Money,” Abaddon hissed. “$20,000 is enough to pay back your current debt. $20,000 is what I offer to start my game. The money will double after every trial you win.”

“And if I don’t want to play?”

“That is up to you,” Abaddon said with ease. “We all have free will. But you want to. I can feel it like a spike of electricity running through your body. You can’t back away from an opportunity to gamble.”

“This sounds like a trick.”

“I never tell a lie. You, on the other hand, are ripe with them. You lie to yourself that you do not want to play my game. You know what this money could do for you, for your family. Do not let your cowardice kill your son.”

The man grimaced, a dark look flashed across his face before he muttered, “I’m in.”

“Around the back of this building, in the small wooded area, you will find the last player of my game. He is holding a small, black book. Dig him up, take the book.”

The man bit his lip. His heart rate accelerated, Abaddon could feel it. “What do I do once I have the book?”

“The book will reveal all to you. I will be watching to make sure no cheating takes place. If you want to know what happens to those who cheat, ask the man with the black book when you meet him.” Abaddon smiled. “Good luck.”

Abaddon glided around the building, the man watched. Abaddon sat on the ground next to where the man would need to dig. Abaddon waited for 3 minutes, 13 seconds exactly before the man returned with a rust-covered shovel.

“Where do I need to dig?”

Abaddon patted the ground next to where he sat. “My old friend is right here, 6 feet under.”

The man nodded. He hesitated just a moment before the spade found the rich earth. The man began to dig. Digging with an earnestness that Abaddon was sure the man had not felt in years.

The sweat on the man’s forehead gleamed in the soft haze of streetlight. The clench of the man’s jaw caused the skin of his face to be pulled taut, giving a hallowed look to his cheekbones. His worry was obvious. Two and a half hours passed in silence. Abaddon knew when the man found bone. The man shuddered and fell to his knees, unearthing the rest of the skeleton up with his bare hands.

Resting between the skeleton's hands was the black book.

The man ripped the book from the dead man’s grasp, breaking the fragile bones as he did. The man climbed from the grave, walking closer to the light of the streetlamp, and began to read.

The Book of Abaddon. To collect the first reward, turn to the first trial on the next page.

The man looked up at Abaddon who lurked in the shadows. With trepidation, he broke eye contact and flipped the page.

Sign your name to accept.

Without a word, Abaddon handed a feather quill to the man. The man took it with a nod and signed. The book turned blood red after his name was written.

The man dropped the book on the ground with haste.

“Pick it up,” Abaddon growled.

The man did as he was ordered.

A soft bell rang in the silence. The man pulled a small, outdated phone from his back pocket and checked the text alert. “20,000 dollars has been added to my account.”

“I am not a liar.”

“That’s all? That was the first trial?” The man asked with excitement, near hysteria. He laughed softly. “What’s the next trial?”

“At this time, you can choose to stop playing this game. Choose to continue, I can assure you the rewards will be worth your while. ”

“No way,” the man said. “That was too easy. You said the money will be doubled now, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Great, give me the next trial!”

“Grab my arm,” Abaddon ordered. The man happily complied. In a haze of black smoke, they appeared on a nearly empty street, adjacent to the sole person in sight, a decrepit woman using a cane to wobble down the dark street.

“Read the book.”

The man nodded. He looked eager. “Take her purse,” he read aloud.

He looked to Abaddon for confirmation, but Abaddon gave none.

The man sighed. “It’s only a purse, it’s not like I’m killing her.”

“Reassurance is the only tool the weak are convinced is their asset.”

The man glared at Abaddon before he sprinted across the street. The woman saw him approaching and started to scream in terror. He grabbed her purse, but she clung on, hitting him with her cane.

“I’m so sorry,” He apologized gruffly. “But I need it, so back off!” The man yelled. He forced the woman back, causing her to fall to the ground. He ripped it off her skinny frame and ran back towards Abaddon.

He pumped his arm in the air, purse in hand. A wicked grin plastered on his face. “I got it! The old bitch didn’t see it coming.”

A strangled scream interrupted the man’s euphoria. He turned back to the woman, “Should I help her up?” He questioned, more to himself than to Abaddon. “No,” he answered, “it would give the hag time to call the cops.”

He turned to Abaddon. “Next trial,” the man urged. “Come on.”

“At this time, you can choose to stop playing this game, but don’t forget about the rewards.”

The man grabbed Abaddon’s arm with annoyance. Abaddon nodded. With another puff of smoke, they appeared in an apartment. It was small, outdated, and smelled of dust and cats. The man excitedly pulled out the black book. “$80,000 here I come.” The man chuckled, but then froze.

“Read it to me.”

The man stayed silent for a few moments, rereading the words. His eyes were desperately trying to find words that Abaddon knew were not there. “Kill her-” he croaked. He looked desperately up at Abaddon. “Kill who?”

“She’ll be entering in just a few seconds.”

“Wait, no! I want out!”

“You know the rules. It’s too late, unless, of course, you would like to join my old friend.”

The man threw down the book, pacing. He paused, “I can do this. I don’t know her. It won’t affect me.”

The door rattled.

“She’s here.”

The man looked frightened for only a second. His jaw tightened before he ran to the kitchen, throwing open drawers. He found what he was looking for and returned. There was nothing but a slight tremble of his hands to show his nervousness.

Abaddon had not felt this elated in a long time.

It. Was. Sensational.

The woman whom the man had just robbed entered her home, grumbling, limping. It took only a second to notice the man. The scream didn’t escape her lips until the serrated knife had already cut a jagged line across her throat.

Abaddon watched in glee until the man was finished.

The man looked sickening. Covered in blood, silently laughing. The cracks beginning to form. An easy target indeed.

He stopped laughing abruptly. He licked his lips. “What’s next?”

“At this time, you can choose to stop playing this game.”

“But the rewards will be magnificent,” he finished. Abaddon stretched out his arm to take. The man gladly accepted.

With a cloud of smoke once more, they appeared in what seemed like a child’s bedroom. “Wait, I know where we are. No,” he laughed, “this is the wrong place. Come on, let’s go.” He grabbed Abaddon’s arm. Abaddon’s cold fingers pried the man’s death grip off.

“This is correct.”

“Oh, God,” he dropped to his knees.

“He is not here, only I am. Besides, you don’t know the trial.”

The man shakily brought the book to eye level.

An agonized scream escaped the man.

The child awoke with fright. “Daddy?” Panic laced his voice.

“I can’t.” The man said. “I can’t. I can’t. I CAN’T.”

“Daddy?” The boy cried. “What’s happening? Daddy?”

“I QUIT!”

“Daddy, who are you talking to? What’s happening.”

“You can do it. Your wife would love you more without the boy ruining everything.”

“Why, Conner? Why my boy?”

“DADDY?” The boy screamed. His words started to become indistinguishable, now just screaming and tears.

“You’ve thought of doing it before. Now’s your chance.”

“It is my chance,” he whispered. He seemed as if he was trying to convince himself, but he then violently shook his head. “NO. I said I QUIT.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” the man answered, broken.

“Perfect.” Abaddon purred. Abaddon waved his hand, the man clutched his chest, screaming in pain. Abaddon turned and walked from the child’s room, the sounds following him out. A surge of pure, blissful, power coursed through Abaddon. Ecstasy. It wouldn’t be long before he needed his next player.

Abaddon watched from the foliage by the house. Spring flowers grew sporadically in the cracks of the sidewalk. The weather had warmed considerably since his last visit to Earth. The woman he was watching sat crying on the porch. Not sobbing, just tears rolling down her cheeks. She was trying to stay strong. It was a difficult thing to lose one’s husband.

When the street emptied, Abaddon approached.

“Down on your luck, I see.”

The woman screamed, Abaddon silenced her with a wave.

“I have a proposition. You can see your husband again if you agree to my game.” Abaddon paused to take in the horror on the woman’s face. “Your husband is around back, he has the book that you need in order to play my game. Bring a shovel, he’s 6 feet under.”