The Devil's Throat- A Short Story

The darker traces of a night long forgotten had all but shaken free from my soul. Half of my compusure blatenly altered, and I all but saved face when confronted with the dear Eliza. Swept underneath an eternal rug, yet could it strike at such an abominal hour! Love, swollen up, filled my lungs as I once longed to breath within hers. That night… That night…

“This is the town festival! We are here to celebrate the declaration of our commonwealth! Be merry and commune!” A man spoke out on a dais, crowds entering the fairgrounds.

The crowds gathered, the blur of faces twirled. Booths, activities, and drinking. Those drinks I drank so cheap and exotic. I drowned in that vice before looming about and stumbling upon old friends, new friends, and enemies just the same. A clown hid underneath a booth until there were enough patrons. Then, boo! He’d pop up and begin a show. He twisted baloons into marvelous shapes, spin twirling nic-nacs, and then… Curiously… Made a child disappear. But where to? I began laughing uncontrollably. I laughed until I cried, only to open my eyes and discover nothing; as it was to begin with. Had I drank the dreaded absinthe? I could only wonder.

A constable approached and began to inquire as to my display of madness.
“Are you lost sir? Forgotten or forgiven?” He asked.
“No.” I replied anxiously.
“If not, let me be the first. I forgive you, even if God cannot. Now go home, drunkard!” He said harshly, then laughed.
I went to take his baton and, once I held it, exploded with anger. Yet, he was gone! Had I been dreaming? I feared to reason with the phantoms around me. Ah! Surely this was real. For I saw a carousel spinning, dazzling my senses until I dropped all of which I sought, staring mesmerized! The soft glow ignited as the carousel sped on. The colors from a light green and red began to twist and contort into scarlet and deathly pale green! It became a magnificent monster, swallowing the children!
“No!” I screamed.

This, to be sure, caught the attention of several adult patrons. Their brief glares motioned to me that I keep away from their children, who began to depart from the ride cautiously. This cruel place! I turned to leave, but a damn gate held me in this hell. I could not surmount thus due to the barbs at the top and mere height of the gate. And within the links, I noticed the clown from earlier. An apparition of a fool! He smiled and gestured with his face- a notion of utter gloom. I ran in anger, swearing to make suffer the bartender. For surely I could not be alone with the effects of this poison.

I saw, in passing, the dais at the medium of the fairgrounds. The speaker, long gone, had surely underscored our communion as holy. For what society could permit this kind of lunacy? Please listen, no peace to which parallels of my sort can find! Surely this was the motive: To blind those of free will! With the false eye of the mentor, I had been led into my own trap.

For he who is lost
The boundary is found
Keep in the ritual tone
The epitaph, lurid shone

Whose great eye, seeing all
Reduced to narrow valleys
Rang low, their cries
Brought into fruition of pride

And surely died, that pride
Heightening the scorn inside


I arrived at the barkeep’s booth. He made little notion that he regarded my presence, yet poured a drink. I grabbed his arm, growling angrily,
“Tell me what have you concocted here? See my death of countenance has commenced. I will kill you if it serves to better my state.”
His eyes narrowed and motioned to a sign, which read:

The devil’s throat

The Barkeep laughed. When I reached for his collar again, he backed away and began to speak,
“I serve only this rum from the desert south of here. The drink was meant to possess the patron-only by their own desires. All of which you’ve seen, thought, and now know- is that which you desire.”
“Please, sir, I require something to numb the effects of this wretched drink! I require to return to my normal state!” I pled.
“Your state is true.” He said in final, then turned away, ignoring me.
As I walked away, I pondered the wonder of the drink. If it’s properties were true, I could command my reality. I could spawn brilliant fancies, brave depths of gluttony, anything… The booth began to shift into a hue of amber, and the barkeep gasped for breath. I have come unto the devil’s throat.
“You die, scum!” I spoke violently.
As he began to vanish from the hostiliry I showed, I felt a great pleasure. For I, the devil, and even those children that sleep shall know my evil. A sworn birth hath come, a birth to fantasy. With a smile, I drank more of the rum, then set half of the fairgrounds ablaze. Suddenly, all of which I partook became greater than my senses could handle. When seeing my crazed demeanor through a sober eye, people would laugh. The younger crowds departed as the night crept on. Only adults remained, and I wanted to absorb them; their very instinct. I wanted to become a God.

The square blackened
Christened night
Loss of pure sight
Untamed, a tune of ruin

Plagues, furies, love
Constantine’s gift to Rome
Grounded, great Gods shone
Into one divinity

A caustic catastrophe
Nowhere near inner-sanctity

I stopped the killing clockwork of lunacy. For my mind became a bullet of such, as if I were spreading the boldest of lore. My eyes sat unto the lady Eliza. Her eyes met mine. In that moment, I felt as though the gears of our universe stopped time altogether. I approached her, stumbling. She had made the decision not to flee from me, although all of what I had given her in the life we had shared was anarchy, and dismal, endless nights. On our very last eve, pain deprived my soul, and I hurt her from the pit of such emotion.
“You, in this light, are quite beautiful. Left to the gamblers here, your true beauty is null.” I said, my eyes glazing over in sin.
She pointed at a man involved in a game. What a fool he was to have left her alone. I grabbed her arm and ran. We made our way to a vacant spot in the fairgrounds. Gazing into her eyes, I wished to speak, but she began speaking, sounding as though her heart resided in each ease-filled word she pronounced,
“You meant well, yet you cannot prove true love in time. I cannot love you, just this once. Please leave me to my pain. For the man you saw can hardly remember my name, but treats me as a housewife. That much, I will become to him.”
The blue of night began to darken into a disdainful black. My anger swelled and a glint of blood made its way into my mind, followed by the thought:
“She’s an illusion!”

I unhinged violently, knocking her back and taking my time deploring the most hideous, indignant force. She lay motionless after my attack. I could not make her vanish.

Alas, I set conjuring the deeds of the devil’s throat. My cell must be five by five in length and width, with one single toilet, and mat to sleep on. I sit here with a grin, facing the end. A guard approaches with a well-dressed man.
“The commonwealth has granted you a last meal and drink.” The well-dressed man spoke.
I twitched, and pleased, responded:
“Yes, I’d like a modest meal. And for a drink, I’d like a quart of the devil’s throat.” I replied.
He nodded, looked to his guard and nodded, and the two walked away silently.