Folksburywoods Story Blog

“Hello there, little bird. What brings you to the park today?” the man asked.

“I have come for your soul,” replied the bird.

“Excuse me,” the man replies.

“I said I’ve come for your soul,” said the bird.

“I must be dreaming. Birds can’t talk. I fell asleep while enjoying the beautiful day,” the man said.

“You are right. Birds don’t talk, but I’m the demon Asseral in bird form. Demons have no trouble talking, I can assure you,” said Asseral.

“I must be crazy. Time to wake up,” said the man.

“You’re dead, and you need to come with me—at least your soul. Your body can stay. We don’t need that,” the bird insisted.

“OK, I’m gonna go now. It’s been nice chatting to you. Once I get the proper medication, I’m sure we won’t meet again,” said the man.

“Go ahead, try to get up. See if you can. I’ll wait,” said the bird.

“What’s the matter? I can’t move my body. Is it some trick? Did you put something? Did you drug me?” questioned the man.

No, you’re dead. Dead men can’t walk or talk, and they don’t tell tales either. Ha, ha, ha. I slay me,” mocked the bird.

“Dead, how can I be dead? I have a 4 o’clock appointment with the banker for my loan. I’m gonna start a new business tomorrow,” cried the man.

“Your business would’ve failed in six months,” replied Asseral.

“How do you know that?” asked the man.

“I told you I was a demon. I have the gift of foresight,” answered the bird.

“The business model was perfect,” said the man.

“Pink poodle squishy stress toys? What business school did you go to?” asked the demon.

“If I’m dead, how can I talk to you?” the man asked.

“I’m your guide to Hell, that’s how,” said the bird.

“Hell? What have I done to deserve Hell?” the man asked.

“I’m sorry I didn’t explain. Everybody who dies first goes to Hell. Later, the bad ones go to Heaven,” said the demon.

“Excuse me? I wasn’t taught that,” questioned the man.

“Well, of course you weren’t,” said the bird.

“What is that supposed to mean?” asked the man.

“Hell is Heaven and Heaven is Hell, you ever hear that?” asked the bird.

“I don’t understand. Heaven has pearly gates and gold streets. Angels play harps all day. God gives us everything we want,” said the man.

“Ha, ha, ha. Do you know how many times I’ve heard that, it never gets old?” said the bird with a wry smile.

“I see I was mistaken,” muttered the man.

“Anyway, come on, it’s time to go,” the bird said.

“May I ask a question?” the man asked.

“Sure,” replied Asseral.

“Do you have a cocktail hour?” the man questioned.

“Of course. Beelzebub makes the best hors d’oeuvres, and we offer karaoke on Friday,” replied the bird.

The two walked toward a grand escalator, then vanished. The man’s corpse sat on the park bench, staring at the blue sky, and smiled.

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