Photo credit: Royal College of Music
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. How horrid. How absolutely horrid. My needle sharp, off-centre nose, my incredulously long neck. How I wish I could look normal. Like Faustus perhaps. Oh, Faustus! My bones shiver and send chills down my spine every time I think about him!
It wasn't really my fault, not really, I guess. Faustus was brilliant and bright, with a great ambition and potential, an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. He had a mind, brighter than Sirius, a mind so cultivated he could easily fathom the enigma of the heavens. I saw him as a perfect opportunity. A perfect opportunity to claim a damned and corrupt soul.
I first appeared to him in my natural form. When he first saw me, he screamed in fright and horror. I remember that day like it was yesterday. 'Change shape! You're too ugly to serve me!' I did so obediently but not unwillingly and changed into a monk. He wanted me to serve him. All life long. Indignation writhed inside of me. I was loyal, forever loyal to Lucifer, Ruler of Evil, Commander of all Spirits. Unless my Lord granted his permission, I was strictly forbidden to serve Faustus. He told me to tell Lucifer that he will surrender his soul for 24 whole years of his heart's desire. Reluctantly, I agreed. I relayed to him everything he said. Midnight arrived and I found Faustus pacing anxiously in his study. 'Damnation! Must I be damned then? Is there nothing else for it?' Furtively, I crept up to him and gently poked him on the shoulder. 'That I shall serve Faustus for as long as he lives… Providing he pays with his soul.' I told him there must be a dignified deed of gift. Written in blood. He faltered initially but wrote, 'I, John Faustus of Wittenberg, in return for that I ask, do solemnly swear to give up body and soul to Lucifer, Prince of Darkness, after the space of twenty-four years.' The deed was done. Finally. At last I could possess his soul. But first, there were twenty-four years to pass.
Twenty-four years slipped away like the grains of sand through an hourglass. His time was almost up. He had an hour of life left until he endures an unremittable purgatory of unbearable suffering. I was happier than I had ever been in twenty-four years. Faustus frightfully paced around his study as he started hallucinating. He imagined planets spinning through the frozen wastes of space, jet black horses dragging him into the depths of Hell. He begs feebly for a drop of Christ's blood to save his soul, he begs for mountains and hills to open up for a safe place to hide. An hour raced by swiftly like a shooting star in the dark night sky and the clock strikes midnight. I admit, it was a bit violent, but at the same time, you couldn't expect anymore from a demon. I feigned a hug with Faustus before shaking back my sleeves to reveal a devilish meat-hook. And without a slight sign of hesitation, I plunged it into his back and dragged him into the depths of Tartarus. The End. To be honest, I helped Faustus. When I first met him, I immediately saw that he was having an eternal struggle between Heaven and Hell. I simply helped him make his choice. There was nothing else to it really, I just tried by best to help him with his dilemma.