The Generational Debt

 

A Rude Awakening

Andy was having a nice sleep. It had been a long day, and he needed the rest to face the next one. He had just gotten home, taken a quick bath, then fallen on his bed and was asleep in no time. He woke up in a desolate landscape. There was no green as far as the eye could see, and the ground was cracked. Not a desert, he thought, wondering how he had come to this place. The last thing he knew, he was sleeping comfortably in his bed. He thought it was a dream and slapped himself to wake up, but he felt the pain of his palm on his cheek. "No, this can't be happening, not to me," he muttered as he stood there looking around, not knowing which direction to take because everywhere looked the same. He was tired, and the sun was beating down on him. His throat was parched and he needed a drink. He picked a direction randomly and started walking, praying he would see someone or anything to give him a clue on where he was and what had brought him there.

The Road of Bones

As he walked, he soon started to see skeletons on the floor along the road he had taken. He stopped and wondered if he was heading in the same direction as whatever had killed these people. He bent down to examine a skeleton and saw how twisted the corpse was. There was no visible wound or any serious damage that suggested the corpse had been killed with something. He bent down lower, checked carefully, and came to the conclusion that dehydration was the cause of death. "I can't go on like this," he thought. "I could end up like these unfortunate corpses, but I'm getting thirsty and I need a drink. Since I have no other option, I need to go on." He stood and started walking again.

Feet on Fire

He had been walking for about two hours now, staggering slowly like a drunkard. He looked down at his feet and let out a hoarse cry. His shoes had melted away from his feet and all he saw were red blisters forming all over them. "Now that I think about it," he muttered, "I thought the ground was just hot, not knowing it was cooking my own feet." He tore the sleeves off the clothes he was wearing and nearly fell over as he bent to wrap them around his feet. He was too weak, and thought he was going to die there and then, but he finally tied the cloth around both feet and moved on with shaky, staggering steps. The land was barren. Nothing grew and no birds flew in the air. The small breeze that blew was as hot as hell, and he winced every time it touched his exposed skin.

The Glittering River

He was on his last legs when he saw something glittering in the distance. He froze and peered at it, squinting against the glare of the sun. He shuddered when he saw that it was a small river. He stood there not believing his eyes, then started to weep. "Am I really dreaming?" he questioned himself. "Is that a mirage?" He knew how the heat liked to play with a person's mind. As he walked on, the wind became colder, and that alone gave him the strength to move on. He didn't look where he put his feet. All that mattered was the glittering water not far from him. He walked on, trying not to run, knowing that if he did, he wouldn't last and it would be the end of him.

As he drew nearer and the wind grew colder, he knew then that he was not mistaken. It was water, and when he had had his fill, he thought, he would be able to face anything this isolated land threw at him. As he got closer, he saw a signpost with words written on it. From where he was standing he couldn't make out the words, so he moved nearer. Then he saw other corpses on the ground, some with missing feet and others still intact but clearly having died in a violent way. He paused and looked around, not sure if what he was seeing was real this time. He knew wild animals and dangerous things liked to live near water, but after waiting a few minutes with nothing moving, he approached the signpost and read what was written. He started cursing. He knew he had walked into a trap. He knew he was about to die too.

The signpost read: *THE WATER IS POISON. BEG THREE TIMES AND GET AN ANSWER.*

The Devil's Bargain

He wondered what that meant. As he looked at the corpses that had died in twisted agony, he knew they must have drunk from the water. But what about those with missing feet? He had no choice but to beg, and so he knelt at the edge of the water, making sure it didn't touch him, and said, "Please, guardian of this river, let me have a drink."

"Please, guardian of this river, let me have a drink." As he said it the second time, he could feel his strength leaving him. He fell backward, lying on his back and breathing hard. With his last remaining strength, he said it the third time. "Please, guardian of this river, let me have a drink." Then he lost consciousness.

When he woke again, a man was sitting near him. Not a remarkable man, just simple-looking, like the grocery store owner back at home. The man had shoulder-length hair and a perfect set of teeth that glittered as the sun hit them. He was wearing a polo shirt, jean pants, and camouflage boots. The man smiled at him, but Andy was too weak to do anything in return. He watched as the man muttered something and pointed two fingers at him. He could feel a small measure of strength enter his body, just enough to make him speak.

"Who are you?" he asked in a croaky, dry voice. "And where am I?"

"I'm the Devil," the man said. "And you're in my domain."

Andy tried to laugh, but it came out as a wheezing cough. After he had composed himself, he asked, "What am I doing here?"

"Simple. To pay a debt," the Devil said.

"I owe no debt," Andy said, frowning. "I have a good job that pays well. In fact, it is a company created by my grandfather and I'm the one running it now. So how do I owe you a debt?"

The Devil sighed. "It is a long story, but I will make it short. But first, let me ask you this — how did your grandfather die?"

Andy was taken aback. He knew how his grandfather had died. He looked at the man who called himself the Devil, wondering what game he was playing. Since he had no choice, he answered. "My grandfather died peacefully in his sleep."

The Devil nodded. "And your father?" he asked.

"Same way as my grandfather," Andy said. "Is that necessary?" he asked, not wanting to open old wounds. He had cried hard when his father died. It had hit him very hard.

"What if I told you," the Devil said, "that the corpse whose feet are missing is your father, and the one with the twisted expression on his face is your grandfather?"

"That is impossible," Andy said. "They died at home and their bodies were buried in the family crypt."

"True," the Devil said. "So what about you? Are you here, or is your body at home waiting for your spirit to return to it?"

"This is my spirit?" Andy asked.

"Yes," the Devil replied, scratching his head with a crooked smile.

"Why am I here?" Andy asked again.

"Like I said, to pay a debt."

"What debt?" he asked.

The Old Deal

"Your grandfather made a deal with me," the Devil began. "And for many years he was successful. He conquered the world, and his name alone could stop wars. The leaders of the world feared him, and whatever he desired, he got. All those things were given to him by me, on the condition that he would give me twenty souls as sacrifice every year, starting with his first grandchild."

"That is impossible," Andy said. "My grandfather would never do that. True, he was feared, but not to that extent."

"And here you are," the Devil said with a laugh.

Andy was silent and waited as the Devil continued.

"Everything was going fine. He was living up to the deal we had made. It was interesting and he was loyal. But then he thought he could walk away. He thought he could manage without me, and so he stopped giving me the offering. He stopped paying tribute to me. So I brought him here, and he was just as weak and suffering as you are right now. Same with your father, since he knew everything when he took over. And I told them both what I am telling you now — stick to the deal and the water will not poison you. You will have your fill and wake up in your bed, stronger and more powerful than you have ever been. The world will be at your feet to command. But refuse, and you will die a painful death."

"Wait!" Andy exclaimed. "Are you saying you're offering me the same deal?"

"Yes. You have tasted power. You have enjoyed the wealth and the privilege. You have seen how people fawn over you. So if you want that to continue, stick to the deal. If you refuse, you will never wake up from your sleep ever again."

The Choice

Andy lay there not knowing what to do. He couldn't cry as there was no more fluid left in him. His body had dried like a mummy prepared for an ancient Egyptian burial. He lay there debating with his soul whether he had it in him to sacrifice twenty souls just to retain wealth and power, or to simply let go and join his grandfather and father in death.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the Devil, who said, "If you agree, crawl to the river and have a drink. You will wake up in your bed, strong and all powerful. If you refuse — well, no need to tell you what you will face. The evidence is all around you." And with that, the Devil vanished.

Andy lay there wondering what to choose. He knew he didn't want to die, and he didn't want others to die either. So he lay there thinking, wondering if he could work out another deal — since the first deal had never been made by him.

If you were Andy, what would you do? Comment below.