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The marble’s flame continues to grow, reaching upwards, a lover scanning the dark for its companion. The flame flickers, changing colors as it dances in the wind of desire, the desire to become more. It burns bright white then slowly fades into emerald, twisting up into the air before it just as quickly folds back on itself. The jewel green spreads, now a blaze, racing across the Hellscape, changing it with every flicker on its surface. Ashes like dusty snowflakes fall as the old form of the Hellscape burns away before me. When the fire finally burns out, I look around me. I am now in the ruins of a slum and it's the middle of the night. It looks like one of those forgotten neighborhoods, the ones left behind in cities like Detroit.
I laugh to myself, thinking if Detroit is Hell on Earth, then Lucifer just continues to choose the worst real-estate ever. As I chuckle, I hear a noise coming from one of the decrepit buildings; it sounds like rubble shifting beneath someone’s boots. A slim man, possibly homeless by the looks of his tattered clothes, steps out of the darkness of the collapsed building, scratching the coarse stubble of his weathered chin. He takes a few measured steps towards me, smiling, waving as if he knew me.
“Behold, for I am Envy, and I know you well,” the man says, with a raspy English accent.
“You’re Envy? All this ruin is yours...and I’m supposed to envy it? I’m not sure what your angle is here buddy, but I think you need to step back and take another look at your ten-year plan because this isn’t saying much.”
The man starts laughing while searching through the pockets of his coat. Reaching into his inside pocket, he removes a pack of cigarettes and offers me one with a slight hand gesture. He puts the cigarette in his mouth, then cups his right hand, opening it slowly to reveal a small green flame that he then uses to light his cigarette.
“See David, you got it all wrong. It's easy to stir envy in others with tons of money, big mansions, and nice cars. Only the spiritually weak fall for such basic envy, and those who deal with weak souls never get far down here. I deal with much stronger souls, being that I am an Envy...well I might have embellished a little on my initial resume for a sense of theatrics. I’m technically an agent of Envy, but one can dream.
See, the key to getting someone really enthralled with envy is to make them envious of the most basic of things. A rich person and a poor person can both be envious of someone who has something they could never acquire. A mother’s love is a good example of such a thing.
See, the rich person’s mother may have been present their whole life, but she might have been consumed with herself and left most of the child rearing to the maid. Imagine a person brought up with all the money they could ever need, that could buy anything they ever wanted, except the time of day from their own mother. I tell ya, when they see any child receiving love from their mother, it makes them envious until the day they die. That’s some good old-fashioned envy for someone like myself.
Now, it works similarly in the opposite direction. Take a poor kid that was abandoned by their mother for a drug habit, and you will wind up with an adult who has a void inside of them in the shape of their mothers love. You go a lifetime with that emptiness inside you and you will find yourself envious of people on the receiving end of simple common courtesy.
It doesn't end there David. Some of them will try to self-medicate that envy by becoming parents themselves, thinking that if they love their children like they were never loved, it will heal them. Little do they realize that it’s a recipe for selfishness, and their child becomes a tool to soothe their own pain, only serving to perpetuate the cycle. The child will become hateful or maybe just disconnected, returning the parent back to that unhealed state of envy, never having truly addressed it.”
“Well, I’m failing to see why this would even be a trial for me. I don’t envy any of this and my mother loved me very much. Is this all you have to offer?”
“What would stir your desire, David?”
“Give me a place to sit right next to God, and I'll be happy with just that.”
“You dick”, retorts the agent of envy, laughing at my remark. He takes a leisurely drag from his lit cigarette.
“See David, here’s the rub. Weak souls desire big fancy things and greed helps me with that, think of it as a joint business venture. But if you want a strong soul, you can't resort to the obvious stuff like money and power, because the strong souls will just pray to God, expressing their gratitude for what they do have, and that just pisses me right off. So, I take a place like you see here, and I make the strong envy it, because if I can make a man envy another man's garbage, it becomes treasure. If I can make a man envy garbage, the price of buying his soul becomes dirt cheap David, and I like cheap.”
As I realize the sense in his words, I become a bit uneasy. To make a man sell his soul for nothing is damnation without hope of redemption. Regardless of his business plan it isn’t something I’m looking to buy into, so I take comfort knowing that this demon has nothing with which to tempt me.
“David, let's look at your life and see if envy left its mark. This isn’t going to be one of those time traveling, memory revisiting ghost stories David, so don’t let your mind go there, besides do I look like the Ghost of bloody Christmas Past?”
“Well, maybe you're a homeless Santa working miracles under the guise of a bum with a heart of gold.”
“David, now you're just being a douche mate, so let's move on with it already. I know there was little to no envy in your childhood due to your mother’s unwavering love, so let's fast forward to after her death. In fact, let's move to the point in time after your wife left you and took your son away. All you wanted was your son back and to feel the warmth of your wife next to you at night again. Hell, David, you couldn’t even leave the bloody house because each time you saw a little boy with his parents you cried like a little bitch,” the agent of envy scoffs, laughing to mock my pain.
“You're right, I was in the pain of loss, and the memories of my son haunted me with the echoes of a love I couldn’t express any more. Missing him hurt, but I was a father missing his son, and such pain is natural, maybe even divine. For I’m sure that even God misses you, for you were mortal once; he loved you and gave you a chance to return home.”
“Oh sod off, what kind of bloke do you think I am? Now my fag even tastes bad with all this talk of God. Let's just get straight to the point and talk about that fucking ring you're still wearing,” Envy says, agitation coloring his voice.
His statement rang true. Ever since that night, the blood never washed completely off of my wedding ring. Bits of blood are stuck deep in its grooves, a garish outline of the thorn etching in its surface. Though the blood reminds me of my mistake, it also reminds me of that life I once had, and how I need to press on, if not for myself, then at least for my boy.
“David, that ring is your envy. How many times have you sat in your bed thinking of your wife loving another man and feeling envy towards him? Envy for the fact that a stranger may get a chance to raise your son, envy that your boy may look up to that man as a hero while his memories of you fade away with time. David, you know envy well, and that ring proves that you're consumed by it.”
I can’t argue, at times I have felt that way, but even when those feelings are at their strongest, they were never the real reason I continued to wear the ring. This is proof that demons can’t read the minds of those outside their influence. Everything this agent of Envy stated is what he could see, but not the story in its entirety.
“Homeless Santa... no... let's call you Bob. Bob, you got it all wrong. I made a promise when I put that ring on that I would never give up on being a better husband and father. I may no longer be Cathy’s husband, but we share an amazing boy together, and that promise still applies to him. This ring has put me through hell, and it looks the part, but I will not give up on my son. This ring is a reminder, every day, that no matter what happens, I have to keep fighting for what's right even if it is the end of me. The joke’s on you Bob. Now if you don’t mind, I have places to be.”
“Oh, David, my old son, do you think you can just walk away from here and call it even Steven? I haven’t even brought out the board games! You must have enjoyed the games you played with Death, so let's play another, this time just you and I. Here are the rules, I lay a few different options before you, and all you have to do is choose one.”
The questions game I’d already played with Death steeled my resolve. My intention did not waver, even though Death aims to destroy my faith, and clearly Envy means to as well. Sometimes all we need to feel closer to God is proof of the devil, for his every existence is proof alone of God’s power and his plan for us all.
“Ok Bob, let’s play, but I warn you that my boy got me real good at playing Go- Fish.”
Go-Fish was the only card game Cathy would let me play with Vince because she didn't like the idea of him learning how to gamble. I wanted to relish the fond memory of playing with my son a little longer, but Bob interrupts my moment.
“David, before you I place three options. One, I can return your boy to you at the cost of betraying your ex-wife. That means killing her. Two, I can restore your marriage, but your boy will be wiped out of existence, including in your memory. Three, I give you back your mother. What will it be David? Oh, and if you have any questions about if I can do this or not, we can call back Death to confirm the limits of my power.”
I’m stunned by Envy’s callous options. I would love to hold my wife again, to see my boy, and to save my mother, but I can have only one at the expense of the other two. Temptation creeps up on me, whispering, singing sweetly into my ears. I can feel my stomach twist in knots while listening to the melody. I want to do the right thing, but part of me wants to just give up now and take what I can.
“Think of this David. If you get your boy back, you get to punish your ex-wife for abandoning you with nothing. You might very possibly see her on your way out of here as she gets her turn. If you choose your wife, the pain of missing your boy will disappear, because you can't miss what you never knew. Oh, and if you choose your mother, I’ll throw in an added bonus... she gets a second chance at life – I’ll restore her body. It all sounds neat, doesn’t it, David?”
I want my boy back desperately, but taking a life just so I can hold him again, play Go-Fish with him again, surely that will land me right back here. I want my wife back, but that option means never knowing my son, and the pain of missing him gave me the strength to return to God. I came down here to save my mother in the first place, so if I play my cards right, I can save her even if she leaves just as a soul. My thoughts clash as the maelstrom of temptation clouds my mind, but like a storm over frigid waters my mind calms and clears with time. I think of my mother and her sacrifice for me, I can't let that be for nothing.
“So, what will it be mate?”
“I choose to lead my own life. I will not damn myself by buying short pointless reprieves from the challenges of life with temporary happiness. I will not change what happened, for my memories have made me who I am. I know for damn sure who I am, but most of all, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that only God can truly restore the body and what you would give me would only be an abomination of flesh imprisoning my mother’s soul. I choose to lead Bob.”
“How do you suppose you will do that?”
“It's simple Bob, by making you envy me.”
Bob bursts out with uncontrollable laughter, guffawing as he slaps his knee. He laughs so hard his cigarette falls out of his mouth and lands in a small puddle of water. Still chuckling, he reaches into his coat for another cigarette. After lighting it and taking a long drag, burning away nearly half of it, he smiles.
“I’m waiting David, make me envious,” Bob scoffs, waving his hands in the air mockingly.
“I already have, Bob.”
“Oh, do tell, David, do tell.”
“You’re envious of the very things you offered me. You were mortal once, and must have experienced love in some capacity. The thought of being loved again must entice you to some degree or you wouldn’t have offered it to me to start with. I must say that even the evilest of men know love, even if it’s love for the wrong things in life.
Second. You must have had family at some point, in fact I get the feeling that some of them didn’t make their way down here. Some of them found love in the right places, didn’t they, just adding to your envy of love while you miss them and hate yourself for missing them at the same time. Who was it that made it to Heaven when you didn’t, your kids, your wife, maybe your own mother?
Or maybe it’s the fact that you can never have your body back as you knew it. The thought of giving a body back to any soul is a way of living out your own fantasy, but you can never fulfill it, so you get back at those souls by watching that same body turn on them, exorcizing your own pain upon them, as you watch the body they love so much consume them. Now stand aside, I have work to do.”
Bob's face becomes like marble, the coldest, most unfeeling stone ever shaped into a human effigy. Void of thought and clear of all emotion, he falls to his knees, his cigarette burns down to the filter and blisters his bottom lip.
“I do envy what you had, David, but I don’t envy what is to become of you, but, hey someone’s gotta do it.”
“And what is that?”
“Die,” Bob vocalizes, an undertone of confusion struggling with love and the sounds of jealousy.
Bob walks off, back into the darkness of the rubble, lighting up yet another cigarette. Consumed by thought, Bob walked slowly, kicking gently at the stones under his feet. Soon all I can see in the darkness is the faint glow of his cigarette, bouncing in the distance. I turn to walk away, but then I hear him shout.
“David, the next marble you throw, throw it harder. The flame will spread faster that way and you don’t have to wait as long for the shift to take place. If I see you again, you're buying me cigarettes.”
“Will do,” I shout back.
My conversation with Bob has me feeling like there is more to this. I just met a sarcastic Englishman in Hell, and somehow I walked away feeling hopeful. He left me thinking that maybe some good can be found in Hell, but that it's just lost in the appearance of the Hellscape. I yearn with all my heart for this to be true and I pray that my mother has a firm hold on the good left in her. Once I'm done with this, Death and I need to have a talk. I have yet to fathom his reasons for sending her here in the first place, after she’d already walked the earth for so many years. I will get my answers from him.
Looking up, mid-thought, I notice a door appearing in front of me. As I didn't see any other options for leaving this decrepit landscape, I grasp the doorknob and turn it gently until I hear the lock click open. Peering into the space beyond the door, I can see the cold, lifeless Hellscape on the other side. All I can do now is step through, plunging further into the chaos.