Wednesday's Words on a Friday
The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles. Sadly, Delores has now closed her blog forever due to other problems.
The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along and read it.
This month the prompts are supplied by Mark Koopmans and can be found here.
Here is my story, we've gone downstairs this week, way, way down:
Lucifer stomped around the receiving room’s hellfire, seething. His diatribe earlier had done nothing to improve his mood and now he was out of sorts. Usually he loved scaring the pants off the wishy-washy new inmates, who had no idea why they were there instead of up with God’s angels.
Like that nurse who had killed the premature newborns, believing that they had no real chance and were better off with their souls in God’s care. All those souls now back in heaven! Lucy had tried to explain to the silly woman that HE could have had those souls if they’d just been allowed to live long enough for him to tempt them and all she could say was “but…but…but” until he’d screamed in her face that if she “butted” one more time he’d kick her butt!
Then there was the man who claimed he had just been making coffee when his house inexplicably caught fire. Happy enough to collect the insurance though and when his wife burnt to death he was happy enough to collect her insurance too wasn’t he? He didn’t think he belonged in Hell either. Lucifer gave him a half hour of fire-and-brimstone yelling too, then sentenced him to three centuries of constipation.
Lucy’s biggest worry was the young lad who had deliberately done bad things all his life, somehow wanting to be just like HIM. He actually thought he could come down to Hell and learn this occupation, as if it was a job that you got paid for. There was going to be plenty of rivalry over that, for sure. On the other hand, an apprentice might be nice. The lad might qualify for that. There was the little matter of the sneeze that sent snot all over Lucy’s beluga caviar, but a few thrashings with a burning branch would see an end to that behavior.
“I still don’t understand why I don’t feel better though,” said Lucifer to himself. He glanced upward to the small window that allowed him a view of God’s Heaven. Perhaps if he created an emergency type of happening up on the Earth, God might come down and they could have a little chat? Mr Goody-Two-Shoes was family after all. Maybe the kitchen minions could be talked into making some chocolate lava cake for the occasion. With real lava of course.