Kchan: A story I did, kinda based off the story of Doctor Faustus and all (actually making reference to it) That being said, it will be dark and devilishly horror-like. :grin: Set in modern times. Sorry for the unoriginal title. :cry: I couldn't think of anything better. Enjoy!

An Old Photograph

A photograph of an old woman hung on the wall, but went unnoticed by all even though it sat in the most busy part of the house. That was the rule she had been given, but she had found a loop-hole. The owner of the photo had simply put a sheet of black paper over the photo in the frame. It was in plain view, for everyone to see and yet it was not. However, the photo had not always been of an elderly woman. And here our tale begins...

.:--:.

A young woman, who couldn't be much older than 20, had just moved out of her parent's estate into the dormitory for a prestigious, all-female college. It had been hard to part with tall that she had known and grown up with, but she knew she would manage. She took with her boxes of clothes, among other things. One of the few odd items she brought with her was a photo album, filled on every page with nothing but the most recent and most beautiful pictures of herself. Not that finding a beautiful picture of herself was a hard feat; she was in all truthfullness, the epitome of beauty. A smooth face, cream-coloured skin, dazzling bright eyes, and brassy blond hair. Long legs, and ample curves all along her body. She seemed to be flawless when it came to looks. But looks are decieving, as anyone who has heard the phrase, "never judge a book by it's cover" will tell you. Such was Lenore.

She went off to college, and passed her classes with flying colours. Many suspected that she only passed because of her looks, but her smile would always warm the hearts of such bad-talkers and the rumors would cease. She recieved all sorts of attention, especially from the men. And finally, when the day came, she left college and started her own business (with her parents' help, naturally). She, like her parents, owned her own little estate in the country soon enough. And still only in her 20's.

On that fateful night, she happened to glance in the bathroom mirror and caught a glimpse of the beautiful woman who stared back at her. But one flaw had finally appeared: fine little lines were already starting to form under her eyes. Age! To be defeated ultimately by such a primitive thing! Frustrated, she immeadiatly cancelled a dinner party that she had planned that evening and instead went out into the night for a little bit of horseback riding. It was cool out, and well-lit by a bright full moon. Lenore's nerves were calmed slightly by the stillness of it all, but she was still disturbed by the thought of age and her own mortality. So wrapped up in her thoughts was she that Lenore almost fell off her horse as it reared up and started prancing around the dirt road anxiously. She hopped off the horse to see what was wrong, but in the process it ran off, leaving a cloud of dust behind it.

Her horse had been spooked by a man standing in the middle of the road. To be more precise, the middle of a crossroads. He was a man, horribly disfigured. His skin hung loose on his bones, looking more like melting wax that skin. Crooked yellow teeth jutted out from between parted blue lips. A rotting black tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth. Lenore, naturally, screamed at the sight of the ghastly man. He stared back up at her with milky white eyes and seemed to sigh. To Lenore's utter disbelief, the man's skin retracted back onto his face and smoothed out, teeth whitened and straightened, jet-black hair grew, eyes turned from milky white to black as coals, and tongue and lips turned a healthy pinkish colour. Transformation done, he looked like an ordinary man in his 20's, with good looks. Almost devilishly fine looking.

Lenore shreaked again at him, wondering if she'd lost her mind. There was no way that could have really happened. No human could at least, but this man was far from human. He smiled at her, tilting his head, "Now you have seen the horrors of Hell. Or at least a glimpse of it. Do you still wish for it?"

The blond woman stared at him incredulously, "W-wish for it?" she repeated, "Wish for what? Who are you?! Wha-what just happened?!"

"Shhh... You're wish, Lenore" the man said in a soothing voice, "You're wish for eternal beauty. I, Mephistophilis can grant you that wish, but at a high price. And no monetary sum will cover the cost"

"Beauty? Forever?" Lenore murmered in wonder, suddenly caught in the fabulous idea despite how impossible it sounded. "I'll do whatever it takes. Give me beauty! I don't want to age! Its horrible!"

Mephistophilis shook his head at this display sadly, his black locks swaying in the night breeze. His hair seemed so dark that even the moonlight didn't reflect off of it. "Don't you even want to know what it will cost you? As I said, no sum of money can pay for this" he explained, "You will pay with your soul. Lucifer himself will claim it for himself one your dying day"

Lenore scoffed at this, turning up her pretty nose at the dangerously beautiful man and tossing her blond tresses. "Lucifer? As in the Devil... and Hell?" she laughed, "What are you, a priest of some satanic cult? Sure, sign me up. Why not? What have I to lose? My 'soul'? Don't make me laugh"

The dark haired man groaned at this. This was a blatant reminder of a man he had talked with centuries ago, who also didn't believe in Hell, but who had requested the use of black magic not eternal youth. Humans... poor pitiful none-believers. It would be the end of them. It baffled him. Why would these creatures deny the existance of God and damn themselves to Hell like this? They could at least believe; there was nothing to lose by that. He sighed audibly again, and withdrew a little black notebook bound in leather from his coatpocket. He handed this and a fine-tipped pen to Lenore.

"Write you're name on any free space in there" he said dully.

She accepted the book and pen and tried to scribble her name on an open space on one of the yellowing pages. She was surprised to see that most of the book was filled with names. How many other people had signed their soul away? Two particular names stood out on the pages, "Faustus" and "Tartini". Now where had she heard of them from? She laughed again, shaking her head. There was no way she was really selling her soul to the Devil. It was probably just some kids playing games. She scribbled on the pages and frowned when no ink showed on the paper. She held up the pen and said to Mephistophilis, "There's no ink"

He smirked. "It doesn't write with ink, that's why. You use your own blood to sign a pact with the devil". His smirked widened when he saw the disgusted look on Lenore's face. However, his grin disappeared as she pricked the tip of her finger on the point of the pen and wrote in the book with the red blood that welled up. "Humans..." the dark-haired man thought with disgust, "Such petty creatures"

Lenore snapped the leather-bound book shut with a snap and handed it and the pen back to Mephistophilis. "So, when does it start?" she demanded impatiently.

"One last thing before I can let you go" he said simply, and held up an older type of camera. One of those old things that ejected a photograph almost instantly (except these were the photos that were square-shaped with the white border all around. He held up the device. "Smile, Lenore". She did so and he snapped the picture, the flash from the camera almost blinding her. When the photo came out, Mephistophilis watched as it slowly processed on the paper and handed it to Lenore. "Lovely, as to be expected. You didn't even blink"

She clutched the photo to her chest, and asked, "So is that it?"

"Well, there is one rule you have to abide by. That photo has to be kept where lots of people will see it in your home. But... ..." he paused, sighing and continued, "... if anyone sees it ... bad things will happen. For instance... you dying and Lucifer claiming your soul among other things"

"So it has to be kept where people will see it, but I can't let anyone see it...?" she muttered, "Fine. I'll work something out". And she would. She turned tail and slowly walked back to her estate, Mephistophilis watching dully at her receeding form.

.:--:.

Never you fear, the tale continues on from here. Many years passed in Lenore's lifetime. Many; more than any human should have seen. She easily outlived her parents, whom she stopped talking to. She also outlived all her friends and fellow party holders, though she stopped seeing them for the most part, and stopped frequenting parties. She took a few lovers every now and then, but would have to dispose of them after a few year. Dispose, either meaning simply break off their relationship... or permanently dispose of them. Break something of theirs, other than their hearts and their relationship with her.

And in her estate in the main lobby, right in front of the main doorway there sat on a wall a small frame. But there apparently was nothing inside the frame, for it held nothing but black paper. Or so the viewer thought. While behind the black paper, was actually her photo. The one taken by Mephistophilis on that fateful ngiht. Lenore, however, mainly stayed in her estate, utterly alone and doing nothing but sit in a dark room with only a candle to light it, and a wide, full-length mirror in front of her to admire herself for all eternity. Such was her vanity, and her madness over time.

The photo sat, untouched and practically unnoticed for those long years, collecting dust and cobwebs. The rest of the house was in the same state; dusty and showing its age. Lenore finally hired a woman to come around once a month to clean, but clearly instructed the woman to never touch a certain frame. A frame that held nothing but a black piece of paper. Never take the black paper out, never touch it...never even get too close to it. But, as humans do, this woman became curious.

One day, while Lenore sat lounging around somewhere else in the house, the cleaning woman decided to take a look at what was behind the black paper. It must be some valuable work of art! Or maybe a work of that that was grotesque... or strange. Like a work by Jackson Pollock, maybe? Just a little peek wouldn't hurt anyone, right? She carefully, and quietly, took the frame off the wall, turned it over, and took out the back that kept the paper in place. Once turning over its contents, she stared at the now-exposed, yellowing photo in confusion. Was this what Lenore had been hiding from everyone?

It was a photo of a woman standing in the middle of a crossroads. It looked like she had been a very pretty woman at one time, but age had not been kind to her. Blue eyes stared dully up from the photo, blonde hair with long streaks of gray and white lay matted and greasy on the woman's head. Thick lines of age were very predominant around her eyes, mouth and forehead. And very frail. All in all, she looked like she was well over 80 years old. The thing that the cleaning lady thought odd was, the woman in the photo had a strange resemblance to Lenore. A relative maybe?

She replaced the photo in its frame and decided to talk to her employer about it. If it was a family member, Lenore shouldn't hide the picture away. Or maybe it was none of her business in all truthfullness, but she thought she might as well put in her opinion. She knocked smartly on the door to Lenore's room. When no answer came, she called out a few times. Still no reply. "I'm letting myself in, so don't be alarmed!" the woman warned, and opened the door.

It took her eyes a few moments to adjust to the dark. When they did though, she saw Lenore sitting with her back to the door, and a man standing next to her, with dark hair and eyes. He looked up from a small notebook he was writing in with those black eyes and offered the cleaning woman a devilish smile. "Her time came, you understand?" he asked pleasantly, snapping the notebook shut, "Never make a deal with the devil. There will be Hell to pay" and with that he brushed passed the woman to leave. She stared after the dark, handsome man, not knowing that he worked for Lucifer himself. Instead, she turned her attention to Lenore.

Seated on a chair in the middle of the room she sat. The full-length mirror she usually sat in front of was lying on the floor, shattered. The cleaning woman went up to Lenore, and found the face of the woman in the photograph staring lifelessly up at her. Blue eyes rolled upwards and bulged out of their sockets, lips blue, and face a strange shade of blue-purple. But there was no mistaking it. This couldn't possibly be Lenore; it had to be the woman in the photograph. She turned over the frame to look at the photo for confirmation. What she saw boggled her mind, and would for the rest of her days.

In the photo, there was Lenore looking as beautiful as ever. Her brassy blond hair shone in the moonlight, bright eyes staring hungrily up from the photo. Here, she looked as though she were still in her twenties, just as the cleaning woman had always seen her. The woman looked from the photo and the dead, elderly lady seated at the chair. She mumbled something incoherently and left the estate to never return again. The house was later claimed 'condemned' and was up for demolition. And Mephistophilis continued to act as a go-between for the deals between humans and the devil, wondering how these poor, petty creatures could be so blind.