Death by Chocolate

Most people seal a deal with a handshake or a signature, but then again, most people don’t sell their souls. I sealed my fate with a slice of cake, it had five layers. I can remember it clearly as though it’s been scorched into my memory, Cake, Chocolate flavoured cream, more cake, a chocolate topping, and a blood red Cherry. A layer for each requirement he needed to ensure; Obedience, Honesty, My Silence, Dedication and Oh yes, the Cherry on top…My Soul. I had to eat every single crumb from that plate and with every bite, I felt a piece of myself slip away, a piece of my humanity being leeched away to leave me in this husk I now call myself.

My keeper is a lot like chocolate, he’s rich beyond measure and smooth as silk with his words, he has many layers which you have to chip away at and at times he is dark…when I say at times, I now know I mean at all times. Every part of him is as unique as it is complex, and he can make the most bitter pill taste sweet. Like with chocolate, his power can taste like the most wonderful thing, but too much will kill you, slowly yes, but the outcome will always be the same, but at least for that brief taste of heaven, it was glorious, but glory never lasts though, it is as fleeting as the seasons, but your soul lives forever. I am forever, I am living in a state of purgatory, I’m neither dead or alive, but I know that I am death. He told me the deal I would need to uphold would be a Piece of cake... he was wrong.

It was just another day in paradise, my job, I get to pick up people’s rubbish and mostly their cans from the street… my wage, however much the recycling guys would give me for it all. The rate of pay changed daily and changed depending on how much they liked you so I never knew what I would be getting, if I would eat or not, if I could get shelter or not, if I would live another day or not. I was barely seventeen, not quite a man and I’d never been to school. Everything I know is what I’ve taught myself and what I’ve picked up along the way. My parents, as hard as they tried every single day couldn’t afford to send me to even the most basic of educational facilities in this new society that had been forged, forcing the poor into desperation and ruin and the rich into even richer, more ignorant people, they were cleansing and refreshing the overpopulated system apparently. It was a scheme to make you try harder, to force you to conform to society or cease to exist, either way it made them more money in taxes or by more of us dying so that they didn’t have to pay for our upkeep.

I can remember it clearly, it was summer, and the day was particularly hot and dry, more so than any other year that I could remember. I’d wandered up to the more expensive part of the city, where shops were filled with colour and more scents than I could even begin to process lined the streets. They also had fountains and as long as we didn’t linger, we never got chased away in summer for getting a quick drink, it was never enough though; my throat was like sandpaper, swallowing the cool water often made me cough and that would make them think that I was sick when I wasn’t, that was when we got chased off because it would be so terrible to have sickness rife amongst these people. I grew smart though, I saved my biggest tins, filled them up and then sealed the top with a ripped plastic bag and some elastic bands. It wasn’t ideal but I could save some water for when I wasn’t surrounded by distrustful eyes. I can understand why they didn’t like us; I couldn’t wash so my clothes were stained and pungent, my eyes were dark from lack of sleep, my hair roughly cut with a dull blade and bare, dirty feet, quite the sight for those used to rose water baths and meals that cost more money than it would take to feed me for a month. I wouldn’t like the look of me if I had been raised like them.

After filling my tin to the point of overflowing, I turned to see a new shop had been built, one I’d never noticed before, it smelled sweet, almost sickly sweet, but then I wasn’t used to such things. There was a counter running the length of the window with several layers of shelves, the whole lot was lined with various cakes and pastries, there were so many colours and shapes, even things which must have been animals from far away places that I’d never even seen before. There were floral cakes, birthday ones, ones which looked like scenes and even some sculpted to look like everyday items. What caught my attention however was the one that was right in the middle though, it was the biggest cake I’d ever laid my eyes on and at the time I had never tasted chocolate, but I knew what it was and just looking at it made my mouth water, I desperately wanted to taste what had been in so many of my stories growing up. I had my face pressed to the glass, my breath fogging up the window in front of me… that was when he saw me, but instead of shooing me off like a stray, the shopkeeper invited me inside, he even looked happy, friendly…I didn’t feel scared around him.

As soon as I entered his shop, he gave me a glass of this creamy, refreshing drink that he called ‘milk’ and sat me down at a small table towards the staff door at the back of the room, I was nervously looking at all the customers who were glaring back at me, but he never took his eyes off me, just asked if I was enjoying my drink and if he could get me anything else. I said no… repeatedly, but he kept offering. I must have kept staring at it because the next thing I knew, he was fetching me a big slice of the chocolate cake I saw in the window. I’d never seen anything like this in front of me, only from afar. It smelled divine and was oozing chocolate sauce, the cherry on top glistened like morning dew. It was fresh food. It was mine.

I went to take a piece with my fork, but he pulled the plate back towards him, only an inch but enough for me to know that he wanted to say something before I ate it. He wanted me to work for him, to better myself. He said that I was destined for better, for a greater purpose than just picking up other peoples’ junk. He sold me the most beautiful picture, a picture where I was the centrepiece, the diamond in the rough and I wanted to believe it, I desperately wanted what he offered but I knew that nothing in life was free. He simply told me that all I needed to do was work for him, run some errands here and there and instead of payment, he would take care of me, no bills, no starving, no wanting. It was too perfect; I should have known better. He asked for five things from me; he wanted me to be obedient, to do everything he asked of me without question, he wanted my honesty so that he always knew what was going on in my head, he wanted my silence… he didn’t want anyone knowing that I was working for him as there were errands where discretion was needed… and dedication to the job, I had to give it my all. I should have taken the next statement literally, but he laughed as he said it, I thought when he said he simply wanted my ‘soul in the job’ that it was just a joke. It was not a joke.

As you can guess, I agreed, far too quickly, and in return, he said the deals a deal when I finish the cake. He folded his arms on the table and watched while I sunk my fork greedily into the cake, that first mouthful was like eating perfection, after that, I could feel myself slipping away, parts of me disappearing but I couldn’t stop. I was on autopilot with no one there to stop me, I couldn’t stop myself. When the last bite had been swallowed, I felt hollow, numb, he asked me to stand and I did without thinking, I was his puppet to manoeuvre as he wished.

At first, I was sent to the elderly, all I had to do was sit with them. I wasn’t allowed to interact with them, it’s not like they could see me anyway…I was only to watch, to get a feel for the older generation, but then after several weeks of watching and waiting, this particularly frail man was before me. I had to touch his hand, I thought nothing of it, but the moment my bony fingers came into contact with his hand, he stared at me with clarity and fear for a brief moment before slumping into his pillows, the monitor beside him a long monotonous beep as he lay there lifeless. This was my true job; I spent my life feeling as though I wasn’t truly alive… now I have to take the lives of those who are around me.

I didn’t like them seeing me, I didn’t want my face to be the last these people saw, I didn’t want to be remembered for this, so I obtained a ragged black cloak which covered every part of me. I did as I was bid and I hated it, but I couldn’t object, this was what I had sold my soul for, and it started to show.

In this new version of myself I didn’t need food, I was never hungry, I never needed to drink so my skin shrunk onto my bones, eventually disappearing for good. I was just a skeleton, there was nothing human left of me. I developed my own way of dealing with people, I created a bright light where my face should have been, so that is what they would see. I made them comfortable so there would be no fear or pain, and they would see what they loved most dearly within the light, this was my attempt at a compromise. I could not break the rules, but he never said I couldn’t bend them a little to make me feel marginally better about the situation, and I have to admit, when their life flows through my bones, I enjoy the power that surges through me, I get to feel their life pass through me, see their hopes and dreams, their achievements. I never had a life, but I get to live so many this way, I’ve seen the world and more, I’ve lived a million lives and learned many more tales, and each is different from the last.

I know compassion even though I don’t feel it any more, I don’t feel anything, but instead of just touching people’s hands and taking them away, I sit beside them, I let them feel my coldness leech into their bones, that is their warning, then I gently take hold of their hands until they move on, I lost my soul a long time ago, but I do my best to save theirs.

Many people know me by many names, I’m ageless, I’m feared and I’m the last thing you'll feel, but you don’t really know me, only of me.