Price of a Curse

Her marriage ending in acrimonious divorce she swept down the courthouse stairs, destitute and alone, cursing the perfidy of easily bought Judges.

Heedless of an approaching storm she stomped along the streets, head down, muttering imprecations for The Devil to strike down her miser of an ex-husband or at the very least bankrupt him immediately. Perhaps his latest whore could pass on AIDS.

A last comforting thought before lightning struck the path in front of her, sending shockwaves throughout, killing all in range.

Minutes later, in Hell, she met The Devil himself, all ablaze and cheerful.

“Why am I here and not him??” she asked, arms akimbo, feet planted menacingly.

The Devil shrugged, quite unperturbed;  “There’s always a price for The Devil’s Curse!!”

Copyright  February 2013

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