John heard it.
He heard the man talking.
For the first time in a long while, he felt real fear—enough that the thought of starting his car and driving away flashed through his mind. His fingers even twitched toward the ignition.
But he didn't.
More than fear, he felt curiosity.
The man's sudden arrival made no sense. Neither did the fact that he knew John's name. John tried to reason it out, but his mind refused to accept the explanation forming on its own.
Urban legend bullshit.
Someone must be pulling a prank on me, he thought.
Content like this was very popular these days—especially among younger audiences. People staged elaborate setups, induced paranoia, and recorded genuine reactions for views. The idea of someone filming him, turning him into a joke, made his stomach twist.
This better be good, John thought, annoyed more than scared now.
He decided to play it cool.
"So," John said, keeping his voice steady, "how do you know my name?"
"Oh, I know it," the man replied calmly. "I know everything. So, Mr. John Walker, can you tell me why you called me?"
John frowned. After a brief pause, he decided to play along.
"I heard you grant wishes," he said.
"Of course," the man replied.
"But only desperate people come to me," he added, smiling faintly. "You know the deal is quite risky. You gain a lot—but you have to give your soul."
I must have drunk pretty heavily, John thought. This shit is sounding real.
"Do I have to make a wish?" John asked.
"No. Nothing is forced," the man replied. "You can leave if you want."
They must be smiling like fools, recording this, John thought.
Convinced now that this was nothing more than a prank—and deciding he might as well enjoy it—John leaned back in his seat.
"So," he said, "do you grant any wish?"
"Yes," the devil replied. "I will grant any wish. Your deepest and truest wish will be fulfilled."
He tilted his head slightly.
"So," he continued, "are you sure you don't want to give me your soul?"
John scoffed.
As he spoke, his hand moved toward the ignition.
That was when it happened.
A strange feeling erupted inside him—something heavy, something unfamiliar. The air around him froze. The hum of the car vanished, as if sound itself had been erased.
He could no longer feel his body.
He could only see the man's face.
The man was smiling from ear to ear.
"Interesting," he said.
And in that moment, John realized—
He had screwed up.