Flashes of Sanity #169: After party

Welcome to Above Heaven, Below Hell! Previously called Flashes of Sanity. I am changeing the name because it is not flash fiction. It is a whole story with chapters!

Four times a week, a chapter of 500 words or less will be published. Monday, Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday.

Today’s entry: After Party

Enjoy!

Bottles laid everywhere. Some broken. Most just forgotten in the never-ending party. Isa crossed the room unnoticed. The first day, he was scared that someone would see him, but that quickly proved false. The devils were either too drunk or too hangover to care about what they saw.
They had won after all. That was all that mattered.
As usual, a couple had found each other under a table and moaned loudly, but apparently not loud enough to awake the man on the table.
I killed myself for this, Isa thought. To see a bunch of redheads fuck each other’s horns of.
The irony hit him just as hard as the sadness in it all.
I actually killed myself. I did it.
It all felt so empty.
He crisscrossed out the back of the large meeting room. ‘New York’ it was called. It and ‘Los Angeles’ were the most popular rooms to party in. He walked through the hallway, pushing himself towards the wall at the right moment before a devil or some devils crossed his path. The elevator was open, but Isa disliked the risk of getting locked in with the enemy. He took the stairs, always the stairs no matter if he was on floor one or six. The only devils there were too busy fucking to even notice the stairs collapsing on top of them.
The streets closest to the offices were bursting with people but further away they quickly became empty, and at the prison cells there were only occasional guards. To be honest, those were not the for guarding, they were there for revenge.
For being creators with the holy mission of tending to sinners, the devils were dangerously similar to their victims.
When the light went out, we are all animals who fight for survival. Isa echoed the thought in his head as he walked the corridors between the cells. It was as close as home he could get. There was always a cell empty for him to sleep in too. Without his reflection trying to kill him.
Sobs echoed between the walls. The losers in a war. Isa didn’t care for either.
What do I care about? Isa thought. Really?
Sobs came closer, and disappeared behind him.
“Why?” A woman moaned.
Isa glanced into the cell. She was alone on the floor. Shit was everywhere.
“Why?”
Because you weren’t cautious, Isa thought.
“Why did you have to kill them?” She cried. “They were innocent. They were just kids.”
Isa halted. The heart of his soul screamed in pain.
Kids, he thought. They kill kids. Why?
He quickened his steps back to his cell. He sat by the wall.
“Why?” The woman moaned again.
Why? He thought. Kids. Is nothing sacred?

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Copyright © David B. Johansson 2022

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