Copyright © 1999, Nick Payne. All rights reserved.

This is a stereo-typical story of the homeless or unfortunate getting everything for the ultimate price. This short story was another written for a creative writing course, and I'm not quite sure why I wrote it, but I like it even though it isn't very original.

I welcome your comments and constructive criticism. Thank you!

Original Fiction By Nick Payne

Day after day, the homeless man sat on the same faded, green bench, overlooking the busy downtown area of New York City. He wore the same tattered clothes and dirt-streaked coat. People passed by him in their expensive suits and imported, Italian leather shoes, never paying any attention to him, the unfortunate human. They didn’t care he had nowhere to go, and searched through garbage or stole to get food. Oh, but if they were in his shoes, it would be different.

He’d been living on the streets for twenty years, since he was sixteen. Both his parents died of illness only a couple of years apart, leaving him with responsibilities he couldn’t handle. Social Services tried to take him, but he evaded them. Ever since, the streets and darkened alleyways were home. Over the years he found himself growing more bitter and angry towards everyone. Sometimes he would break into fits of anger, like a raging southern hurricane, over the fact, that he never tried to better himself.

Sure, he’d been young and stupid when he ran away. Yet he’d always been independent. His parents never paid too much attention to him, and he grew up on his own. Independence was the reason he never ran back to the social workers or found other help when he grew older. Now, he just figured it was too late. This was the life he’d chosen. Sometimes though, especially on cold nights, when he lay in a damp, cardboard box or under a pile of old newspapers, he would give anything to be like the rich people he saw walking up and down the sidewalk each day.

It was only a dream of course. There was no way he could ever be like them. Wouldn’t it be nice, though? He would love to have a warm house and clean clothes that belonged to him. Even more than that, he wanted to travel the world and see all the things he’d only heard about. A smile crept across the homeless man’s face, as his thoughts carried him away, like the wind sometimes carries a fallen leaf to an unknown destination.

A voice broke him out of his reverie. He looked to his left, and was irritated to see one of the rich people sitting next to him. No, he wasn’t just a rich person. There was something different about him. The homeless man couldn’t put his finger on what it was. The stranger was dressed in black clothing; his shoes glowed like highly polished glass. His face was pale and mirrored sunglasses concealed his eyes.

“What’s your name, friend?” the stranger asked.

The homeless man became uncomfortable. It was many years gone by, since anyone had spoken to him. For a moment he thought about just pretending the man wasn’t there. The stranger stared at him with a smile plastered on his face.

“I ain’t no one’s friend,” he grumbled, hoping the stranger would leave him alone.

Instead, the stranger laughed and held out his hand.

“My name’s Blackstone.”

The homeless man looked up. Anger flashed across his face, but quickly melted away. Blackstone removed his glasses and the homeless man got a better look at him. He had a high forehead and gaunt features. His eyes were most intriguing, almost hypnotic. They were black and looked similar to polished stones. The homeless man couldn’t pull himself away from Blackstone’s stare.

“My name’s, Phil,” he grumbled, but didn’t touch Blackstone’s outstretched hand. Phil was afraid too. Blackstone couldn’t be human, not with eyes like that. Blackstone let his hand fall to his side and remained silent for a long time. What he said next caused Phil to open up his ears.

“ Would you like to live in absolute comfort for the rest of your life, Phil?”

Phil didn’t even ponder the question before answering. “Yes, I would.” He saw a chance to make his dream come true. It didn’t even matter what Blackstone was, although Phil had a pretty good idea he knew.

Blackstone moved closer to Phil and set that hypnotic stare on him. “Would you do anything to have that power, all you ever wanted?”

Phil nodded as if he were a robot. Everything around him ceased to exist, except for Blackstone and the bench they sat on.

Blackstone seemed to smirk, but it was hard to tell. “I can give that to you, but there is one thing you must do.”

Phil felt detached. He was swaying dreamily from side to side, like tall weeds caught in a breeze. “You have to give me your soul,” Blackstone continued.

Phil’s eyes widened for a moment and he struggled to pull away from that entrancing gaze. Then Phil’s dream overpowered his mind. He saw himself in a fine, expensive home with all he ever wanted surrounding him. Phil’s avarice shoved away the fear he felt, as he nodded in acceptance.

Abruptly, the dreamy feeling was gone and the world flooded back. Phil looked down at himself and saw he was dressed in new clothes. Blackstone still sat next to him. He was smiling, happy to have won again. Phil saw the smile, it confirmed as he suspected. Blackstone was the devil or something truly evil. He knew he would never be the same again.

Phil lived the rest of his life in comfort and happiness. He wore expensive clothes and lived in a large mansion. Phil didn’t spend much time at home, though. He traveled the world, as he’d always wanted to do. During his travels, Phil saw the Eiffel Tower in Paris, Big Ben in London, the pyramids of Ancient Egypt, and the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. He saw many other sights and wonders, but those were the ones he remembered best.

Throughout this time, he occasionally passed a homeless person on the street. In his greed, Phil became like the ignorant people he’d so despised. He did nothing to help the homeless. Phil was above them now. Near the end of his life, he was walking home, drunk from a party and suffering other complications from old age. Phil was ignoring all this, talking to himself about how he should have asked Blackstone for immortality, as well.

Phil passed by an alley when the voice of a man called out of the darkness, stopping him. Peering into the alleyway, he saw a man sitting beneath the shelter of a dilapidated cardboard box. Phil’s old life poured back into his mind, and for one terrifying moment he was looking in a mirror.

“Can you help me out, guy?” the homeless man asked.

Images of all the people he could’ve helped, but chose not to, flickered through his mind like a crazy film projection. Phil reached into his pocket and took out a roll of money, all he had with him. With great effort he knelt down before the homeless man and placed the money in his hand. Unable to look upon the man’s suffering any longer, Phil stood and walked away, as quickly as his aged legs would take him. “Hey, thanks, guy!” he heard the man call out to him.

Two months after this happened, Phil lay in his large bed, sweating with fever and drawing his last breaths. He couldn’t reflect upon any of the happy times he’d had. All he could do was think of what a fool he’d been. Finally, Phil decided he deserved whatever Blackstone had in store for him.

As Blackstone’s name raced through his mind, Phil found himself standing before two doorways. One door had a flight of stairs leading up into light, the other a flight of stairs leading down into darkness. Blackstone appeared before Phil, once again he found himself hypnotized by that powerful stare.

“ You’re being given a choice, Phil,” Blackstone said. “You helped the man you met in the alleyway and you’ve shown remorse as well.” Blackstone spoke the words in a cold, angry tone. “Remember our bargain, Phil. I’m the one who gave you everything you ever wanted. If you go up those stairs you’ll be shunned by all, regardless of what you did. You will be alone.” Blackstone’s tone lightened. “Ah, but if you come with me, you can continue to live in comfort. You have friends down there.” He gestured toward the second door.

Phil knew Blackstone was being cruel. He didn’t really have any choice at all. Although he longed to go up those stairs, Blackstone wouldn’t allow such a thing. Tears carrying memories of all he’d done and those he’d forgotten ran down his face. He didn’t deserve salvation, even if he could have it. The tears burned on his face like fire. With a heavy heart, Phil walked to the door leading downward and disappeared, forever into darkness.

Copyright © 1999, Nick Payne. All rights reserved.