The Man In Black

Daniel was only ten years old, a sapling in a forest that is the city of Paris. The streets on which he lived in had always fascinated him even if none of its citizens wanted to have anything to do with the likes of him.

He lived with his mother Victoria in the slums near the docks, one of many found in the 15th century, when France was in the throngs and grips of revolution, where the four horsemen were to ride again. Like so many others, Daniel and his mother lived in extreme poverty, the scales of indifference and disparity between the classes had tilted and the darkness in the hearts of people grew.

Yet this did not dampen the spirit of Victoria who filled Daniel's ears with stories while she kept a roof over them as she labored throughout the city, exploited by those who feed off misery.

Daniel loved the story of Christ, as it was the story of love and sacrifice and for Victoria it was the only thing she needed to teach her son. Daniel clung to the story despite not really understanding all of it. As long as he had his mother, he could face the world.

They lived in one of the many ramshackle shelters that pervaded their part of the city. The room in which they rented wasn't much but they were happy and that was enough.

The days were hard. His mother left him with Old Charlie, the shoemaker that lived in their neighbourhood, he was the oldest man Daniel had ever laid his eyes on. Old Charlie had taken a liking to the young boy whose innocent eyes conveyed a purity that it always seemed to break his heart everytime he saw him.

Daniel, being young and curious would always ask Old Charlie to take him around the city of Paris and despite the protest of his old bones, the old man would gladly bring the boy with him as he made his rounds fixing up shoes. Old Charlie would feel a pang of jealousy and happiness as he watched the boy take the scenery of the city. The bourgeoise with their horses, carriages and authority, the workingmen and their determination to rise up hoping to become level with those who treaded on their labor, and young Daniel, his brown hair and eyes the color of the setting sun, eyes which grew large at the sight of those who saw him as mere filth, dressed in tattered clothes and wore worn out shoes with soles that provided little protection. Old Charlie looked and asked no one in particular how God could allow a child to suffer and he wept in silence.

On one particular occasion, Old Charlie had brought Daniel with him in a tavern near the ouskirts of the city. It had a peculiar name, The Devil's Lair. Old Charlie often wondered why the Church continued to allow its existence but then again, God was nowhere to be found in this part of the city.

He set up shop just oustide the tavern and waited. Soon, a man with a rugged look and smelled of wine came out of the tavern and came up to him and asked him to shine his shoes to which Old Charlie did as best as his old hands could. He did a pretty good job despite of his eyesight which he was losing gradually. Time was no longer kind on Old Charlie.

When it was time to accept payment, the man refused to pay.

"Why should I?" He had raised his voice and was looking down on Old Charlie as if he found him the most digusting thing in the world. "If I don't pay, what'll you do old fella?"

Old Charlie had met his kind before, met a lot of them growing up and knew that when he was dead and rotting, there'll be more like him in the world. "Please kind sir, we need it for food." His voice quavered and he hated it but there was nothing to be done. He was past his prime and all he could do was submit.

This didn't do anything to improve the situation, it only made it worse as the man found it extremely funny that the old decrepit fool would actually think he'd pay. He's already spent all his money in the tavern drinking wine and had a taste of Rosie's lips. He had nothing left except this bit of fun. And he laughed.

Old Charlie knew that there was nothing to be done except submit. It was all he could do and submit he did. The man kicked the crate which he used to store his tools, what little there was anyway and when Old Charlie tried to pick them up, he kicked him too. Old Charlie fell on his face and broke his nose and he feared he was going to faint. All the while, the man kept laughing.

"Stupid old fool." He spat on Old Charlie, who was trying his best to get up. This seemed to infuriate the man even more and he proceeded to kick Old Charlie back down again. He wanted to feel his bones break. Then he felt a push from behind him, a sluggish force that tried to topple him and he turned around and saw Daniel, young Daniel with his tattered clothes and amber eyes filled with tears of rage and helplessness.

There was only one word that the young boy kept repeating as he continued to shove. Stop.

And the man whose rage had been in full swing now picked up the young boy and threw him towards the ground. This didn't seem to faze the boy. He picked himself up again and threw himself towards the man, this time trying to push him away from Old Charlie. The man continued to laugh. He knew he was going to enjoy breaking their bones and so when young Daniel found himself on the ground once more with his lips torn and his eyes blackened by the fist of the drunk, it was his turn to feel the pull of unconsciousness. The man was approaching again, bent on breaking as many parts as he could. And Old Charlie, broken nose and all stood in between young Daniel and fury.

He could only listen as the blows came. Old Charlie received them all, thinking that it was the best he could, the only thing he could do for the boy.

"That's enough." The voice had come from the shadows. It had stopped the man from delivering what would have been the fatal blow to Old Charlie's head. "You've had your fun. I think it's time you leave."

Daniel would never forget the owner of that voice. He was wearing black. His pale countenance, the feline eyes that were the same color as his and the voice that screamed danger.

"W-w-who are you?" The man who was still holding Old Charlie seemed to lose interest in the old man and let him go. He felt an irrational fear that seemed to emanate from the inside, fear that came with the man in black.

"I'm the devil."

And so the man ran away into the night leaving Old Charlie and Daniel in his wake. They were both hanging on the fringes of consciousness and they had become more broken than they already were.

The man in black was about to turn away, perhaps to vanish into the night when Daniel's little voice spoke and it took every bit of strength that his fragile body could manage. Again, it was only one word. Help.

***********************************************************

Mephistopheles found himself in the most unlikely of situations. He only came into the tavern to meet with one of the many demons who prowled the world. Beelzebub had spoken of the coming retribution of the mistreated and ill-begotten children of France and it had brought him and his kind from all parts of the world. They awaited the spectacle.

What he had not counted for was this. The boy and the old man were lying on the ground, and the man responsible for the beating was gone though he knew that he wasn't long for this world. The boy had cried for help, had asked him for help and hadn't he helped them when he made the choice to show himself?

Her voice came unbidden. *You're my responsibility since I'm the one who saved you.* A memory that he could never forget and one that seemed to influence everything that he did. He kept telling himself that it shouldn't hurt but it did anyway, a pain that was beyond repair.

He went to the two figures lying on the ground and looked at the damage done by the fists of a drunk. The old man's breath came in rapid gasps. He could sense a couple of broken bones. His eyesight was all but gone now, no thanks to the man's fists. His hands would fix no more shoes but he'll survive. It was the boy who was at Death's door. The man had pummeled the boy's head repeatedly and one fatal blow had connected. The boy's brain had swelled. It won't be long now.

Old Charlie felt the presence of the man in black. He couldn't see any more and his whole body felt hurt. "Kind sir, how's the boy? How's Daniel?" His voice almost sounded like a whisper.

"He's going to die." The reply made Old Charlie gasp.

"You must take him to a healer. Surely a doctor would be able to help him." Mephistopheles recognized the emotion behind the man's voice. He knew it too well. Despair.

"No doctor can help him." He replied. The old man began to get up and failed. There was something funny about the old man's attempt to rise that brought a humorless grin from the devil and so he resigned himself. "But I can."

At this, the old man stopped struggling to get up. "You can?" Now there was a change in the man's tone. Hope.

"It'll cost you though." Mephisto replied.

"What will you have?" Old Charlie asked. He was willing to work for it until the end of his life if it meant young Daniel lived.

There was a rustling, a shift in the air, and silence overrode the noise of Paris. "Your soul."

Old Charlie thought he had misheard the man but when he asked again, the answer was the same. "My soul?"

"Yes." There was no hint of emotion in that voice.

"Are you the devil?"

"Yes."

Old Charlie didn't flinch one bit and Mephistopheles would always remember that night. "Then you shall have it." There was no hesitation on his voice. Only a grim understanding of the situation.

The devil looked at the old man with wonder. Here was someone who would pay with all that he was and all that he had for someone who wasn't even of his blood. Sometimes it made the devil wonder what God had to say to the likes of this one and to think that his son had died to save mankind. Here was one who was every bit like the Messiah and he was lying on a puddle of blood, beaten and blinded by the ones who aer supposedly saved through the blood of Christ. But that was the way of the world, wasn't it? It kills the messiahs of the world, it finds a way to crucify them all.

"Very well."

Mephistopheles laid his hands on the boy, accelerated the healing and made his own adjustments to make sure the boy would be fine. The bruises began to fade, the cuts began to close and the ragged breathing had turned to that of a boy in peaceful slumber.

"It's done." He told the old man who immediately reached out and placed his hand in the boy's chest, feeling young Daniel's heartbeat in his palms and he listened to his breathing for a while and when he was content he nodded and this time managed to get up.

"Thank you." He heard the devil laugh, a sound that he could only describe as hollow. "Will you take me now?" Old Charlie was afraid, all his life he hadn't really believed in heaven or hell but now here was proof and he had made a deal with one of the residents of the latter but no matter, what's done is done.

"Aren't you afraid of what lies ahead of you old man?" Now, there was wonder in the devil's voice. "Aren't you afraid of hell?"

Old Charlie who had seen life unravel around him from his youth as a boy who learned the craft of fixing shoes from his father who had died in the Bastille for crimes that he had not done, his life as a boy of sixteen stealing from those who had plenty and dividing the profits with the kids in the neighborhood to buy food, the tragedy of his first love, her name was Josephine and she had the prettiest set of blonde curls he had seen and how she had married off to a rich son of a furniture store despite knowing that deep down she loved Charlie and finally the young boy Daniel and his mother Victoria, anomalies born into an unforgiving world where justice, wisdom and love were scarce and he thought himself fulfilled.

"I've lived in hell all my life. This boy had given me glimpses of paradise, and for him I am willing to give what I still have left to give though I am afraid, I have made my choice." There was a silent dignity to the way the old man spoke.

"Very well. I'll come to you in your deathbed." The devil replied and all of a sudden, Old Charlie felt his bones mend and reattached themselves, felt his eyesight return. The first thing he did was look at the owner of the voice who claimed to be the devil.

He beheld him for the first time, a man covered in a dark cloak, underneath he wore a gray tunic and dark leather pants. His eyes was the color of amber, his black hair was brushed up neatly and his face was that of a prince lost in tragedy. All Old Charlie could do was look on, his eyes were hypnotizing and he knew that its depths would suck anyone in. Old Charlie gasped as if he had held his breath for long. "What did you do?"

"I told you I was going to take your soul. I didn't say it would be today." Mephisto replied as if this explained everything.

Old Charlie who had developed some wisdom of his own for years understood immediately and did not pursue further. "Then I should thank you again."

This time the devil grinned and that made Old Charlie tremble involuntarily which seemed to satisfy him. "You're living on borrowed time old man. On your deathbed I will come for you. You'll do well to remember that."

As the devil got up to leave, young Daniel began to stir into consciousness.

"I'll be seeing you Charlie." And Mephistopheles vanished into the night.

When Daniel finally woke up from what he thought of as a nightmare, he looked at Old Charlie and could not believe what he was seeing. The purple bruises and other wounds were gone from both of them.

"What happened? Where's the man?" He looked around bewildered. "Has he gone?"

Old Charlie didn't answer at first, he was looking at the shadows where the devil had vanished.

"Old Charlie?" The boy was shaking him. "Aren't you hurt?"

"Not one bit my boy." He answered. "Let's go home before your mother becomes worried."

They began to pick up the things the man earlier had kicked all over the place and arranged them into the crate which to Old Charlie's relief was undamaged.

"Did that man in black help us?" Daniel asked Old Charlie while they began the journey home. "I think he did." The boy looked thoughtful. "Who was he?"

"An angel." Old Charlie replied.