Beneath Devil's Bridge Novels & Stories

I thought the scenery is surreal. Subconsciously, I begin traveling along the grassy path down the hill and towards the border where a golden-steeled bridge lies in wait. Two waterfalls splash from both sides like a curtain framing the bridge. Below, the river flows endlessly far from where a naked eye could see. Then, I look up towards the other end of the bridge and there’s nothing but a barren land covered in misty fog. “Do I continue?” I mutter to myself.

She asked. “Who?” The one driving asked. “Your boss.” She answered. They both chuckled, “It’s Alex Maldov. Do you know who you’re married to ma’am?” “A murderer, a criminal, a thief…do you want me to elaborate?” Their laughter reached a bolstering level now, the other who looked right out the window muttered, “He’s a lot of things but a theif isn’t one of them. He’s indomitable ma’am. According to what some say, they think he’s a direct descendant from the devil himself. He’s basically immortal.”

Maybe start planning my next escape for real this time. And then—he did something that caught me off guard. Ronan Blackwood, the Devil himself, squatted in front of me. Not stood. Not loomed. Squatted. Eye level. Holding two glasses of wine in his large hands. “What’s the problem?” he asked, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. I looked away. “I’m fine,” I muttered.

I sighed, giving in to the idea that I have to be like this the whole day, well that's what I thought. "So, the poor guy left in dismay, on his way home, a swirl made it's way to block him. A man in red hood played close. Tears started to upwell in his eyes, he knelt and asked the Devil to grant him a favor. After an hour of trading, they came up to a final deal. The devil will grant the bridge possible, but after that, Aurora must cross the bridge first. Without hesitation, Leonardo clung to his only hope" he tightened his grip on my pants to maintain balance.

It was just a way for him to have control and power over me. But I’m the one with the power here. To get my revenge, I would do anything, I would give anything, and right now, I was selling my soul to the devil. But in this story, there are two devils. One doesn’t just know it yet.

“It’s… like a headache, but… different. It’s like the memory’s there, but it doesn’t want me to touch it.” He didn’t push. They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of it settling between them. Then, carefully, he tried another. “Do you remember the river? The one we weren’t supposed to go near?” Ayra’s frown eased a little. “Only because you nearly drowned trying to impress me.” “That was one time,” he said, grinning faintly. “Once is enough.” But then, when he described the old bridge they used to cross, her mind gave her nothing but fog. No bridge, no water, no sound of rushing current — just emptiness.

The creaking of the giant double doors sent a wave of fear through the chained-up man and gestured that it was a sign for him to stop what he was doing, but the fear quickly morphed into a burning rage. The doors swung open, revealing a man whose body is chiseled to perfection. His dark suit wrapped around his body, his green eyes devoid of emotion as he surveyed the scene. This was Lucien Belucci, the man known as the Devil’s Incarnate, the most infamous name in the mafia world dubbed devil’s incarnate for being cold, merciless, and having no regard for life. “I knew you’d betray me. Bastardo!” the chained-up man snarled in a thick Italian accent, the veins in his neck standing out in rage.

If I want to have a baby, I can have it with anyone, not her; the child born to her is not known as a ghost or a demon. I shivered at Vincent's callous words; I stared at him in fear without blinking. "Is that the word of a human?" Vincent smirked, his whole body covered in ice. "You always call me the devil, don't you?" I turned my head and saw Aboli with his eyes closed, his whole body drooping like a lamp that had run out of oil. My mind went blank, I didn't even think about it, so I rushed to bite Vincent's toned arm hard. Not only did I bite, but I also tried to chew it like it was my food.

I whisper in fear. Tsking, and biting his lip, he shakes his head. “Oh, no. Don’t think of it like that,” he says sweetly, his nefarious smile shifting to sweet and beautiful. “I’m just a fragment of dust of what you may term as the devil. So small and useless until I’m given instructions by my boss. In this case, Mr. Memphis, otherwise known as Devlin, and the water of power he pours to me in form of instructions, stirs my little particles into a pile of mud and I get my power from him. But for now, I’m nothing more than a human just like you and everyone else in your little world.”

My eyes darted to her tablet, it was a grainy, long-lens photo of a man emerging from a black car. Even in pixels, he commanded the space around him. He was tall,broad-shouldered, black hair and grey eyes. Lucien Alexander. The tabloids called him “The devil.” I looked back at Lina, and shrugged. “So?” I said, a teasing lilt in my voice. “You want to date him?” I gave an eyebrow waggle, knowing full well how ridiculous it was. Dating Lucien Alexander? Impossible. The rumors didn’t just say he was difficult, they said he was the devil’s own son. “Obviously,” I finished, the humor fading into simple fact. “That man is a no-go zone.”