How much does fame and fortune cost? That’s a question that ate at me for years, and a question that I, unfortunately, found the answer to.
Now modest wealth and even minor fame alone are much less costly. You can achieve that from commitment and hard work to something that can be revenue-generating. The commitment required is so extreme that it could probably be characterized as an obsession. This can be anything from creating a successful tech startup to making hundreds of YouTube videos of supercars and purple Lamborghinis. The problem is that even modest wealth costs years and years of hard work and commitment. If simple wealth is what you want, I implore you to take that route. Don’t make my mistake.
Years of hard work and sacrifice for modest wealth wasn’t good enough for me. No, I had a gluttonous desire for two things, fame, and fortune, but I wanted it the easy way. I had not the fixation, nor the drive, to spend years developing a local business or next-generation startup. I wanted the quick way to instant success. I heard rumors and legends about how anybody could get it, so I set off to find it. Honestly, it wasn’t difficult for me. She can sense it, she knows if you are desperate enough that you would undergo incomprehensible atrocities in order to achieve it.
I vividly remember the night that I sold my soul. No, it’s not a myth, the devil is real. I didn’t even need to find her, she found me. My soul must have reeked of desperation. She came to me at a bar, while I enviously gazed from the corner at beautiful women flocking toward the handsome man who wore expensive clothing and showed off an impressive jaguar key fob.
I never saw her walk into the bar, or even make her way toward my lonesome corner. I turned my head and there she was, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. The red lights of the bar reflected off her luscious black hair and dark grey eyes.
I scrambled for some sort of pick-up line, but before any words could make their way to my lips she leaned in, teasingly, putting her lips just centimetres from mine.
“I know what you desire,” She whispered, stroking my cheek with her soft fingers, “I know your dreams, and I can give it all to you. I can give you everything.”
With only a slight pause, I closed the gap. As soon as our lips touched, the bar and people around me faded away in black smoke to be replaced with a new setting.
I found myself sitting in a dark movie theater. The dark red seats were empty, other than myself and the beautiful woman was sitting next to me. I pulled away from the woman, scared and confused at what had just happened to me. I thought that maybe someone had spiked my beer with some sort of hallucinogenic drug.
“Sit down and watch.” The beautiful woman said.
The lights dimmed and the screen came to life. As the woman had told me to do, I sat down and watched. On the big screen played videos of me, but a very different me. Instead of staring at a broken TV in my studio apartment, I was living my wildest dreams. I was beautiful, I was rich, and I was famous. The videos showed me driving cars far more expensive than the average house, living in an expensive mansion, and walking down the red carpet with two beautiful models by my side. People screamed in joy as I walked down the aisle, shoving papers toward me begging for an autograph.
The video cut off and changed entirely. Now, it showed the real, unkempt me living my disparaging life. The video showed me getting rejected by every girl I had the guts to approach. I saw myself with slumped shoulders, waiting tables for snobs that I hated, and taking long draws from my metal flask in a trashy bathroom. Finally, it showed me utterly alone in my ugly apartment, the only social interactions coming from the cheap prostitutes I could barely afford.
I started crying pathetically in that theater, watching the ugly truth of my life filled with self-destructive thoughts and behavior. I looked over at the beautiful woman, who stared at me intently, seemingly enjoying my despair.
“Who are you?” I asked, after brushing away my tears in embarrassment.
“Oh but you already know who I am, and you already know what I can do for you.” She responded with a cold smile.
She was right, we both knew who she was. She was the devil herself. Before this moment, I wasn’t sure if she was real, but I desperately wanted the opportunity to make my deal. She had found me.
She didn’t even have to ask, we both knew that I would do anything to live that reality. The movie theater disappeared in another wave of black smoke and I now sat in a black room with multiple video cameras pointed to the center of the room.
With very few words, she explained to me what I would have to do in order to obtain that reality of fame and fortune that I so desperately craved, the reality that she promised she could give me. I accepted her offer with haste, without even thinking it over.
What I did next was the most heinous and awful thing that any human could ever do. My actions were so terrible that I will not speak of it, ever. I can’t explain the shame I feel everyday knowing what I did and who I selfishly hurt. The very fact that I wanted easy fame and fortune so badly that I willingly committed these atrocities, that so few would ever do, proves that I am a true monster.
I wish I could say that I was forced to do it, but that’s not true. I had a choice. I could have walked away right then and gone back to my meager life with a new resolution to work hard for success. I should have chosen that course of action, but I didn’t. Instead, I used my last moment of free will to choose to do horrible things for my promised fame and fortune. She watched every last moment with a smile on her face.
After I was done, she placed a large piece of brown parchment on a small black table. It was the contract. Next to the contract lay a black knife. I should have read the contract, but I didn’t. As directed, I eagerly sliced my hand and let my blood pour onto the contract. The deal was done and the sale was complete. The devil rolled up the contract with a smile on her face, and again the scene faded away in black mist.
I woke the next morning thinking that I simply had a vivid and wild dream. With a disappointed sigh, I got out of bed and walked to my bathroom. After splashing some water on my face, I looked up at the mirror to find that my body had changed. A smile crept onto my face, it really happened. I was more beautiful than I could have possibly dreamed. I was the version of myself that the devil had shown me in that movie theater.
I picked up my phone to find that I had a voicemail from the man I now know as my, “Agent.” He told me that she had assigned him to me and that I had a confirmed appointment with my new recording studio the following day. Per his directions, I found my first-class plane ticket on my dining table next to a brand new designer watch. An expensive freshly tailored suit waited for me in my closet. A suitcase sat by the door filled with designer clothing that I would never have been able to afford on my own.
I put on my suit and watch, grabbed my luggage, and left that shabby apartment and everything in it behind. A driver in a black luxury car waited for me outside to drive me to the airport.
Within a few months, my record-breaking album was released and I immediately had it all. The beauty, the fame, the fortune, and the new talents that she had given me. I live in an exclusive gated mansion with tens of millions worth of cars in the garage. My financial accounts have nine zeros and I’m constantly surrounded by exclusive celebrities and beautiful women everywhere I go. Anytime I’m in the public, people anxiously await a simple handshake or autograph. If only they knew what these hands had done.
It may seem like I have it all, however, there is one thing that I lost and will never have again. I no longer have my free will. I am forced to do everything and anything that I am told. I wear what I’m told to wear, I sing what I’m told to sing, I say what I’m told to say, I go where I’m told to go, and I do what I’m told to do. Hell, I even tweet what I’m told to tweet. Like so many before me, I am just the devil’s puppet of influence.
The worst part is, those horrible actions that I did weren’t a one-time thing. As I said, I should have read the contract. Once a year, I am forced to do it again, but this time I no longer have a choice. I tried to refuse once, but she owns my soul. With a simple snap of her fingers, I was instantly overcome with a pain worse than you could possibly imagine as I begged for her to make it stop.
“Try that one more time,” She warned, “And I will rip your soul to pieces.”
So back to our question. How much does fame and fortune cost?
Credit : R. M. Staniforth
Reddit : https://www.reddit.com/r/HorrorsOfStaniforth
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