The devil is in my rec room and I can't get him to leave.

I was wondering why I hadn't heard from the weasels lately, they scampered away as soon as Lucifer settled into the easy chair behind the computer desk.

"Hey darlin', whatcha got there?" (Odd that the devil sounds like Sawyer from Lost, isn't it?)

"Lucifer, this isn't a good time for me right now. I have an article due and my WIP--"

"The article will get done sugar, don't you worry your pretty little head about that. But you have to let the WIP go."

"Let it go?"

"Sweetheart, it's flatlining. There's no pulse. It's ready to cross to the other side."

There was a flash and a copy of my novel, with an awesome cover (it even had embossed text), appeared in his right hand. I reached for it.

"Not so fast writer girl."

"Please give me back my WIP."


"Isn't there someone else you should be tormenting right about now? How about that crazy lady across the street who picks through people's trash and holds garage sales every weekend?"

"Saw her last week. Nice woman, she makes a mean lemonade," Lucifer leaned in closer. "Wanna know how to get this back?"

I could feel his hot breath on my cheek. The hairs on the back of my neck started to dance.


"You've got to make a decision sugar."

Sure, and I had emails to reply to, dishes piled up in the sink and bills to pay. I really didn't need this guy steaming up my schedule, no matter how hot he was.

"Let's cut to the chase. Are you asking me to sell my soul?"

"Hell no!"

He eased back into the chair. I heard the imitation leather start to sizzle.

"It's more fun to have you right where you are. Discouraged, procrastinating, wondering if you're ever gonna finish this fine piece of...fiction."
The book vanished into thin air. "But you have to make it a priority, or you may just end up over here. Frustrated writers are famous for getting into trouble."

"So that's it? You just want me to keep on writing?"

"Nothing is a simple as it seems princess. You'll know what I mean sooner or later."

He disappeared with a burst of flames. My internet connection dropped. I wiped the sweat off of my forehead and opened up Word to get back to the WIP, having been inspired by the devil himself.

Shit, I should have asked him how one of my former bosses was doing.