The Blond Satan

Chapter 1 I’d sell my fuckin’ soul to the Devil for just one big… Before his thoughts were fully formed, a crashing bolt of lightning in the shape of a pitchfork fell from the stormy sky and pierced the ground in front of him. The impact of the blue-white, three-pronged bolt knocked the man backward, and then began to sizzle away. Minutes later, when he woke up, he looked around, not sure what had happened. Getting up, he began dusting himself off when he heard something, and stopped to listen. What the hell is that? His gaze caught movement in a pile of debris. He rushed over when he heard what sounded like the cry of an animal. The cry came again and again until he finally managed to uncover what looked like a—what was it, a dog, or—my God, it’s a wolf cub that’s struggling in a tangle of weeds, trying to get free. He quickly went to the animal’s rescue and worked hard to release him. After a few minutes the wiggling animal managed to pull himself loose, and quickly ran away, leaving behind a burning scratch along the man’s hand. “Oww! Damn!” he shouted and pulled his hand back as the cub jumped to freedom. While shaking his hand, he pulled out a handkerchief to wrap around it while looking toward the little animal that seemed to disappear into the night. “What the hell is a wolf cub doing in the middle of a bustling city like New York?” Feeling a stinging sensation, he looked down at the scratch and examined it. Even though it really didn’t look like much, it was painful, and he needed to hurry home to take care of it. He made a hasty retreat, turning to get back on the path as quickly as he could. He walked for several minutes before the path began to narrow, taking him out of the park’s wooded area and onto the city’s broken asphalt. The wind, wet and cold, blew down his collar, causing him to raise his lapel against the chill. He leaned forward, his hunched-up shoulders a defense against the weather. He felt alone on the desolate city streets that were depressing and friendless, making the coldness of the night air feel like death. He had walked only a few feet when the wind and rain began coming down steadily. Even though he kept his head down, he could still make out the brightness of blinking lights in this city of neon and could hear the thumping of heavy metal music that blasted out of the local clubs as far as a block away. He always felt uneasy when he was alone in the dark, the street vacant, only different hues of color bleeding into each other on the wet streets. The dark scared him. The dark that hid all kinds of ugly things. He looked down at the scratch the wolf cub had given him and felt a chill—a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.