Life in the Big City

Life in the Big City

Often Elan would create foolproof defense mechanisms to ensure that his soul belonged to the lord. These deals with the universe would occur as follows. “If the sun comes out, it means that my soul belongs to the lord”. Or “If the cross-light turns green, surely satan must not have my soul.” On one of these occasions Elan was throwing a soccer ball a foot into the air and repeatedly catching it. He must have had some level of confidence in his technique, because internally he made the deal: “if I catch this next ball, then the lord has my soul”.

It was a day in fall. The boy and his father were walking along central park west to a field where other little boys would meet and practice soccer. For the most part Elan did not really enjoy it all that much, but his parents thought that it was a good way to socialize the boy, and potentially inspire a little discipline along the way. The jersey he was wearing was shimmery and and dark blue, he had on shin guards and sneakers which scuffed along the hexagonal bricks which had started to accumulate dust from the first few leaves that had drifted down to the ground and crumbled. His father was a few feet in front of him setting the pace, they were late.

Elan dropped that ball, and as a consequence he believed his soul was damned to an eternity in hell. Audibly he let out some kind of yelp and his father turned around thinking the boy had scabbed a knee or stubbed a toe. Elan could not bring himself to tell his father that he had relinquished possession of his soul and for the next week he lived in perpetual horror. It scared him even more to think his parents might discover his secret: who would want to have a son that had given their soul to the devil, they would surely disown him, if not kill him in the name of the lord. Elan did not know what to expect from Hell, perhaps it is because the young boy did not have a thorough understanding of pain. He knew it would be something he would not like, “they must not have tv in hell” he must have thought. But all the more frightening was that Elan did not understand what the inferno held. Although many that understand pain can fathom the horrible atrocities that would wait for them in such a place, they are blessed with the knowledge of what to expect. The young boy only understood that hell was bigger than anything he knew.

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