Favors not Forgiven, are Best Forgotten

(One of my submissions to the Boise Weekly Fiction 101 contest, 2008.)

Mother shunned and Heaven repressed, even the Devil took note to step wide. Weren’t of a respect, but a fear of them irons—lightning from his hips, thunder in his hands—smitin’ men quicker than God’s finger; reloading just as fast. The Devil coveted those irons—such power—and in his scheming, sent forth a woman who owed him a favor.

A last night of a man’s weakness—sweet lust—welcomed with outstretched arms. She poisoned his mind with Hemlock and ravaged his body with knives.

To Lucifer she nodded—fingering them irons—a warning so simple; stay outta the way.