Faithless Shatter           

“I saw the devil once.”

            The doctor’s eyebrows rose at this revelation.  He clearly didn’t believe the other man’s words.

            The scene is a moderate sized room in a hospital in a city.  The room is located on the third floor of the hospital in the psychiatric ward where to many was a place that this man clearly belonged.

            For a moment the doctor studies his patient and he notes that this man appears normal. The man has dark brown eyes and haggard light brown shoulder length hair, perhaps the only part of this man that would cause him to stand out is the man’s British accent which is not common in the American city he is currently located in.

            “Really,” the doctor finally says, for it is not a question.

            The doctor is perhaps five years older than the man, around thirty years of age, with short and well-kept dirty blond hair.  He has bright blue eyes that usually sparkle with amusement, but are now filled with confusion and pity.

            “No,” the man pauses for a moment and the doctor’s eyes spark with hope, however that is quickly crushed.  “I have seen the devil several times.”

            “Oh, I see.”

            “I don’t think you do, doctor,” says the man, his last word in a mocking tone.

             “Then do tell me Mr.—…”

            Shattering is heard and the doctor pauses.  Only a moment later does he realize that the shattering has come from the room that the two currently occupy and another moment passes before he realizes that the man has shards embedded into his knuckles and that mirror pieces surround the Englishman.

            For the first time in the doctor’s life he questions his own sanity by being in the room with the man.

            “Mr.—…”

            He is interrupted by what sounds to him as someone stepping on glass.  He finds that it is the man who has tightened his hands around a sheet, ignoring the shards that are embedding themselves into the man’s palms.

            “Have you even seen the devil, doctor,” the man says in a voice that the doctor has to strain himself to hear.  “Have you ever been so close to him that you could touch him, but at the same time you are unable to because his touch will make you scream and writhe away from his freezing burn?”

            “Perhaps I should come and talk to you later.”

            As the doctor turns away more shattering is heard, causing him to sweep around and meet the man’s eyes.

            “I suppose you have never seen the devil.”

            “I suppose not,” the doctor agrees.

            “How do you know you haven’t seen the him,” the man says to the doctor, his last word full of frightened intensity.  “Perhaps he just hasn’t want to been seen.”

            The doctor ponders this for a moment before scolding himself for even listening to the man.  It was ridiculous to even think of such things and an idea given by a madman no less.

            “I don’t have time for this—…”

            “Or you just wish not to think of such things…” the man’s words are confident.  “Am I right, doctor?”

            For some reason the doctor now feels a need to prove himself and takes a seat in the empty wooden chair next to the man’s bed.

            “If you have seen the devil, then what is he like?”  The doctor asks.

            “God once created an angel, an angel that was more beautiful than all of his other angels, however he grew angry when he found that this angel wanted more power, his power.  This angel was cast out of heaven to the only other place where he could be thrown.”

            “I believe that I have heard this story.”

            The man ignored the doctor’s statement and continued.  “The angel was cast down to earth for God felt the need to test the mortals who dwelled there and Lucifer, the fallen angel, filled his role well.  He grew ugly and his anger becoming something unimaginably worse than the most passionate hatred.”

            “What is the devil like?”  Asked the doctor in the tone that he only asked to amuse the man.

            “If there is a devil—…”

            “I thought you said there was a devil…”

            The man looked at the doctor for a moment before replying.  “I never said there was a devil, I just said I saw him.

            “If the devil existed he would be a handsome man who would blend in almost any crowd despite his looks.  He would be wealthy and would be appear as kind and compassionate as any person.  Sometimes he is a homosexual and sometimes he is not.  Perhaps the best way to look at it is he is neither or both.”

            Without making eye contact with the man the doctor seemed to nod to show that he was listening.  There was something disturbing about this man’s eyes that he would rather not look at.

            “Perhaps the devil even loves.”

            “Loves?”  I doctor asks curiously.

            “Love and hate are both very passionate and it seems that devil is capable of hate.  I suppose the worst thing the devil could be is unfeeling.

            “He has lost his way over.  He has changed completely and at the same time he has not changed at all.”

            “How do you see the devil?”  The doctor hesitantly asks.

            The man seems to pause at the doctor’s words and picks up something that the doctor cannot identify for a moment.

            Freezing, the doctor stares at the shard in the man’s hand.

            “Have you looked into a mirror lately, doctor?”

            As the man begins to laugh in a disconcerting manner the doctor’s eyes widen and he stands up rushing out the door.  He finds it hard to breathe as he shuts the door behind himself.  The man’s laughter continues as the doctor leans against the door and slumps to the floor.

            He cannot get the laughter to stop haunting his mind.