Running round in circles
It was a long way from his friends and relatives in Sheffield but the programming job was too good to pass up and, three weeks after he got it, Paul was living in a small rented flat in Chichester fifteen minutes from the office.
The job was great but work was just a part of life. A young man alone in a part of the country he did not know needed some social life beyond a few drinks after work with colleagues and, hopefully, a girlfriend. Those were more difficult to find, his work talents were of a technical nature and he was rather shy, although he had never realised quite how much when he had been at home with friends he had known since primary school days.
He had been a keen cross country runner back home so the advert for a new running club in the local paper looked promising, perhaps he would meet a few people and, who knows, there might be some decent girls there. The first meet on the following Sunday really picked him up. It had been a great sunny day up on the downs and afterwards, as running club members always do, they had gone to the local pub to try and undo the health benefits of their outing. Apart from the occasional weirdo they were a great bunch and it wasn’t long before he was knocking around with a couple of the guys and his evenings were a lot less empty. Even better, on the fourth meet, Jasmine turned up and they clicked. It wasn’t long before he was knocking around with her too although not in quite the same sense of the expression.
They planned their runs a week or two in advance and there was no shortage of great places so close to the downs in midsummer. It was Jasmine who suggested they should run around Chanctonbury Ring on Saturday. The name meant nothing to Northerner Paul and he was puzzled by the amused reaction from the others when she added that next Saturday was Midsummer’s Eve, so they would have to run round it seven times in an anti-clockwise direction. Pauls’ geeky new mate Rod always kept his top of the range iPad in his tatty old rucksack. He looked it up on Google and passed the tablet to Paul. The Chanctonbury Ring was a clump of trees on the South Downs and, according to ancient legend, if you ran 7 times around it widdershins, or anti-clockwise, on midsummer’s eve the devil would appear and offer you a bowl of soup, porridge in some versions, and grant you a wish in exchange for your soul.
“I hope he offers us soup” said Jordan “I don’t like porridge” “Will we all get soup? Nothing in the stories about more than one bowl” said Jean. “Probably just the first one round then” said Jordan “Mean chap that devil! Anyway, doubt he’ll offer any of us anything as we all seem to be agnostics or atheists here”. “Dunno” said Paul “I may be an atheist now but I’m also a scientist. If the Devil appeared and he clearly demonstrated he was the Devil, if he was 30 foot tall and surrounded by fire or something, I would have to accept that as scientific proof that I was wrong and would be obliged to decline his offer with as much fervour as any god-botherer” “Good point Einstein” said Jasmine. So it was agreed.
They all turned up promptly at the car park in their running gear on a cloudy but dry Midsummer’s eve. They would do a few km on the local downs and finish with their seven circuits of Chanctonbury Ring, about 3.5km. The blokes had agreed to make a race of it to see who would get the devil’s soup and they set off round the clump of trees together. Once, twice, three times. Four, five, six and Paul took the lead. It was funny that he scorned the idea of the supernatural yet still had a little anxiety as he approached the end. He reached the starting point, went a bit beyond just to be sure, then stood and looked at the lovely view while waiting for the others to catch up. There was no devil and no demons, ghosts or aliens in sight. Not unless they were disguised as ordinary sightseers anyway, as strolling couples, dog walkers, some kids flying a kite.
“Damn it! Said Jasmine, there’s never a devil around when you want one. I had my wish all planned out too. After all, I will probably end up in hell anyway so I might as well get something for it” “I bet you will” said Paul. “Look” said Jasmin “I’ve got a girl’s night out with Ella and Jean but what say I drop round your place afterwards, around 11? We can spend the night and get into some serious sin” “Love it” said Paul, and they kissed. As he drove off he saw Jasmine leave behind him in her tatty old Toyota. She got to his place almost on the dot of 11 and they went straight to bed.
He opened his eyes to a sunny Sunday morning. Waking up next to a gorgeous girl he got on great with and who meant more to him every time he saw her, did life get any better? He turned over and the space next to him was empty. Then the door opened and Jasmine came in with a breakfast tray. “Cornflakes, eh?” Said Paul “Oh well at least it’s not soup or porridge so I know you’re not the devil” She kissed him and fingered his chest. “Actually, I am the Devil” she said “I always offer whatever a human most likes for breakfast, Porridge, Wheatabix or Shredded Wheat if you like, it’s no problem to a mighty evil being”. As they ate their breakfast and drank their coffee Paul was savouring the thought of what they would do next. He reached down. “How about we do that little thing we did last week, Mrs Dirty Devil?” “Ok then, you pervy mortal” said Jasmine “but only in return for your soul” “Done” said Paul and it was even better than last week.
They had barely finished when his mobile phone rang. The screen said Jasmine calling. “Hello” said Jasmine’s voice, “what happened to you last night?” “What?” Said Paul “What do you mean? Is this a joke?” There was silence for a few seconds on the other end, then “You were supposed to come round my place last night as we agreed yesterday, what happened to you?” Another pause, then “You haven’t got somebody there have you?” “No” said Paul, “well yes, but not somebody else. Look, stop kidding around love, pranks really aren’t your strong point”
He turned, expecting to see the room empty as it would be if Jasmine was calling from another room. There was no Jasmine but the room was not empty. And, although the room was barely 7 foot tall, yet the monstrous creature that met his gaze was 30 foot tall and surrounded by, although it was a pitifully inadequate description of the horror, what could only be described in human terms as flame. The voice burnt into his very soul, a soul which he suddenly realised he truly had.
“You poor, deluded, little atheist. You call yourself rational, said you would believe in me if you saw me with your own eyes but never considered, if I did exist, would you expect honesty from me?”
It was a long way from his friends and relatives in Sheffield but the programming job was too good to pass up and, three weeks after he got it, Paul was living in a small rented flat in Chichester fifteen minutes from the office.
The job was great but work was just a part of life. A young man alone in a part of the country he did not know needed some social life beyond a few drinks after work with colleagues and, hopefully, a girlfriend. Those were more difficult to find, his work talents were of a technical nature and he was rather shy, although he had never realised quite how much when he had been at home with friends he had known since primary school days.
He had been a keen cross country runner back home so the advert for a new running club in the local paper looked promising, perhaps he would meet a few people and, who knows, there might be some decent girls there. The first meet on the following Sunday really picked him up. It had been a great sunny day up on the downs and afterwards, as running club members always do, they had gone to the local pub to try and undo the health benefits of their outing. Apart from the occasional weirdo they were a great bunch and it wasn’t long before he was knocking around with a couple of the guys and his evenings were a lot less empty. Even better, on the fourth meet, Jasmine turned up and they clicked. It wasn’t long before he was knocking around with her too although not in quite the same sense of the expression.
They planned their runs a week or two in advance and there was no shortage of great places so close to the downs in midsummer. It was Jasmine who suggested they should run around Chanctonbury Ring on Saturday. The name meant nothing to Northerner Paul and he was puzzled by the amused reaction from the others when she added that next Saturday was Midsummer’s Eve, so they would have to run round it seven times in an anti-clockwise direction. Pauls’ geeky new mate Rod always kept his top of the range iPad in his tatty old rucksack. He looked it up on Google and passed the tablet to Paul. The Chanctonbury Ring was a clump of trees on the South Downs and, according to ancient legend, if you ran 7 times around it widdershins, or anti-clockwise, on midsummer’s eve the devil would appear and offer you a bowl of soup, porridge in some versions, and grant you a wish in exchange for your soul.
“I hope he offers us soup” said Jordan “I don’t like porridge” “Will we all get soup? Nothing in the stories about more than one bowl” said Jean. “Probably just the first one round then” said Jordan “Mean chap that devil! Anyway, doubt he’ll offer any of us anything as we all seem to be agnostics or atheists here”. “Dunno” said Paul “I may be an atheist now but I’m also a scientist. If the Devil appeared and he clearly demonstrated he was the Devil, if he was 30 foot tall and surrounded by fire or something, I would have to accept that as scientific proof that I was wrong and would be obliged to decline his offer with as much fervour as any god-botherer” “Good point Einstein” said Jasmine. So it was agreed.
They all turned up promptly at the car park in their running gear on a cloudy but dry Midsummer’s eve. They would do a few km on the local downs and finish with their seven circuits of Chanctonbury Ring, about 3.5km. The blokes had agreed to make a race of it to see who would get the devil’s soup and they set off round the clump of trees together. Once, twice, three times. Four, five, six and Paul took the lead. It was funny that he scorned the idea of the supernatural yet still had a little anxiety as he approached the end. He reached the starting point, went a bit beyond just to be sure, then stood and looked at the lovely view while waiting for the others to catch up. There was no devil and no demons, ghosts or aliens in sight. Not unless they were disguised as ordinary sightseers anyway, as strolling couples, dog walkers, some kids flying a kite.
“Damn it! Said Jasmine, there’s never a devil around when you want one. I had my wish all planned out too. After all, I will probably end up in hell anyway so I might as well get something for it” “I bet you will” said Paul. “Look” said Jasmin “I’ve got a girl’s night out with Ella and Jean but what say I drop round your place afterwards, around 11? We can spend the night and get into some serious sin” “Love it” said Paul, and they kissed. As he drove off he saw Jasmine leave behind him in her tatty old Toyota. She got to his place almost on the dot of 11 and they went straight to bed.
He opened his eyes to a sunny Sunday morning. Waking up next to a gorgeous girl he got on great with and who meant more to him every time he saw her, did life get any better? He turned over and the space next to him was empty. Then the door opened and Jasmine came in with a breakfast tray. “Cornflakes, eh?” Said Paul “Oh well at least it’s not soup or porridge so I know you’re not the devil” She kissed him and fingered his chest. “Actually, I am the Devil” she said “I always offer whatever a human most likes for breakfast, Porridge, Wheatabix or Shredded Wheat if you like, it’s no problem to a mighty evil being”. As they ate their breakfast and drank their coffee Paul was savouring the thought of what they would do next. He reached down. “How about we do that little thing we did last week, Mrs Dirty Devil?” “Ok then, you pervy mortal” said Jasmine “but only in return for your soul” “Done” said Paul and it was even better than last week.
They had barely finished when his mobile phone rang. The screen said Jasmine calling. “Hello” said Jasmine’s voice, “what happened to you last night?” “What?” Said Paul “What do you mean? Is this a joke?” There was silence for a few seconds on the other end, then “You were supposed to come round my place last night as we agreed yesterday, what happened to you?” Another pause, then “You haven’t got somebody there have you?” “No” said Paul, “well yes, but not somebody else. Look, stop kidding around love, pranks really aren’t your strong point”
He turned, expecting to see the room empty as it would be if Jasmine was calling from another room. There was no Jasmine but the room was not empty. And, although the room was barely 7 foot tall, yet the monstrous creature that met his gaze was 30 foot tall and surrounded by, although it was a pitifully inadequate description of the horror, what could only be described in human terms as flame. The voice burnt into his very soul, a soul which he suddenly realised he truly had.
“You poor, deluded, little atheist. You call yourself rational, said you would believe in me if you saw me with your own eyes but never considered, if I did exist, would you expect honesty from me?”
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