Stanley sat in his shed, listening to the ambience that surrounded his allotment. There was nothing to be heard but the chickens complaining and the vegetables growing.
He wished he had a fridge in his shed, because he didn’t like long life milk. He stirred his tea thoughtfully. He wished he had a TV, too.
Stanley finished stirring because his arthritis began to hurt.
Life had been good to him, he reflected. He’d been blessed with seventy nine years of life thus far, although he currently wasn't that pleased about it.
A voice said behind him, “Hello.”
Stanley sipped at his tea.
“Erm, excuse me,” the voice said.
Stanley turned slowly where he was sat, quite a simple activity and the only redeeming feature for stools.
"H..." Stanley began. He had no idea how this person could have entered his shed without his knowing, as it often took Stanley a considerable amount of effort just to open the door.
"Oh, sorry," the man said. "I didn’t mean to scare you."
Stanley gaped ineffectually, trying to frame some words. "I... How..." he decided to say.
The man nodded in a knowing fashion.
"Or confuse you. Sorry. I know this can be a bit much, but please, hear me out."
Stanley nodded dumbly.
"I am the Devil," he said.
Stanley frowned. "I'm not religious."
The Devil beamed. "Do not worry about that, my friend, I do not discriminate based on religion, race, gender or age."
Stanley relaxed a little, knowing it wasn't anybody real that he was talking to. He had another go at his tea.
"So, what do you want with me? I don't believe in you."
The Devil smiled like a salesman. "That does not matter, Stanley. I believe in you."
"That's not very reassuring."
"I'm hardly here to reassure you," the Devil said, finding that Stanley was not one of his typical clients.
Stanley looked bemused. He said, “How can I help?”
The Devil sighed and looked at his feet briefly. "Actually, I’m lost."
"Really?" said Stanley, full of interest. "Here, take a seat."
Stanley pushed a stool towards the Devil, who dropped onto it heavily.
"It's really quite hard, you know. I can transcend dimensions. I once ended up in a dimension where speech had been outlawed. A completely silent mob chased me into a windmill where they tried to burn me. In many ways, it was scarier than being chased by a noisy mob, which has also happened to me. I managed to escape, obviously. But that was terrible."
Stanley shook his head with a carefully measured amount of remorse. He didn't really understand what the Devil was saying, but he understood how he said it.
"That sounds pretty bad," Stanley sympathised. "Is there nothing you can do?"
The Devil shook his head sadly. "Not really. Things have become a lot more complicated recently. I’m not really sure what to do about it. I probably shouldn’t even be here."
"Terrible," Stanley said.
"I know. It was so much easier years ago. All this trouble only started recently. It was an upgrade to the Tevatron, a particle accelerator in America. It created a small wormhole in space time, which wasn’t detected by the scientists. However, it was all that was, or rather, would be needed by future humans to travel back to this time. Limitless alternate closed loops of space time have been created. It's all quite confusing. Naturally, I can travel between these dimensions with ease. However, since it's a talent I didn't even knew I had until I did it, I'm not very good at controlling it. I thought it was supposed to me ruining the lives of mortals, not vice versa. I don't even know what time loop we're in. It seems quite a regular one, but I guess you'll find out more in a few years."
"I'm not going to be alive in a few years," Stanley remarked, finding something he could actually talk about.
"Oh, I’m sure you will be," said the Devil, looking at Stanley. "But tell me, why do you say that?"
"I'm just quite old," Stanley replied.
"I see. Well, you know, I think I might be able to help you."
Stanley crossed his arms. "I'm not going into a home. They won't let me out here, you know. They think it’s dangerous."
"No, nothing like that," the Devil said, a little taken aback. "Listen, since the wormhole opened I've had problems coordinating any mass evil. At the moment, I'm just surfing dimensions trying to figure out how to get in touch with God and see what's going on."
"You mean you've lost God?"
"Yes."
"But I thought he was everywhere. At least, that's what I was told," said Stanley, rapidly re-evaluating his religious views.
"Oh, God is everywhere. But God is omnipresent, not omnidimensional. I can't find the right everywhere that God's in."
Stanley stared blankly at the Devil.
The Devil clapped his hands. "In the mean time, though, I'm tempting mortals like yourself with games of chance for rich rewards."
Stanley nodded slowly.
The Devil looking into his eyes and saw nothing in the way of comprehension.
"Stanley."
"Yes?"
"Good. I am offering you the chance to play a game. If you win, you get whatever you want. And I mean anything. Although obviously not anything, there are concepts that are simply impossible. I can't kill God, for instance."
"I don't believe in him."
"Good. God sucks."
"Really?"
"Nah."
"Oh."
"So, what do you say?"
Stanley looked at the Devil for a moment, then shook his head.
"I could make you young again."
Stanley raised his eyebrows. "Really?"
"Yes. I could make that happen for you, Stanley."
Outside, the wind picked up and lifted a few chickens into the air.
Stanley stroked his chin thoughtfully. A thin smile crept across the Devil's face.
“Alright,” Stanley said, “Why not?”
"Excellent. What shall we play?"
Stanley looked around uncertainly. "I thought you'd come prepared for that sort of thing."
"Do you have a pack of cards?" the Devil asked.
"No. What kind of games do you usually play?"
"Oh, anything. I like to let people pick their own games. It makes them feel less cheated if I win."
"You cheat?"
"No, certainly not!" the Devil exclaimed. "I am bound by a non-specific pact that I made with God back when we was young."
"What was the young God like?"
"Wrathful," the Devil said darkly. "But after Jesus was born, a lot more merciful."
Stanley nodded knowingly.
The Devil continued, "Moving on. The odds of whatever game we play are not altered in any way by myself. A surprising amount of people do extremely well out of my games. And, of course, an equally surprising amount do not."
"Sounds like you're easily surprised," Stanley said, "What happens if I lose?"
The Devil sat straighter on his stool and folded his bony hands together. "I take your soul."
Outside, a rumble of thunder rolled overhead.
Stanley frowned. "But I don't believe in souls. I believe that when I die, that's it."
"If that's the case," the Devil grinned, "then you have nothing to lose."
Stanley considered this for a moment. "But if I'm wrong then I do have something to lose."
The Devil studied Stanley carefully. The Devil had not anticipated Stanley’s reaction to his appearance. The Devil did not take anticipation lightly, either. Risk management was an important part of tempting mortals for their souls. He had attended a seminar on the subject. While he was there, he even managed to win someone's soul from them, which just goes to show that some people don't pay enough attention at seminars.
"That much is true," said the Devil. "It is, of course, up to you."
"How do I know you won't trick me?" Stanley said.
The Devil had obviously anticipated this and produced a large scroll from his red lined suit jacket. He unrolled the scroll and stared grimly at the text written upon it.
"This is my shopping list. Hold on," the Devil said, delving into his pocket again. "Ah, here it is."
The Devil unrolled another, grander scroll with the word 'Contract' written in the most seriffed font Stanley had ever seen at the top.
"This is a contract between us, one that cannot be broken."
Stanley looked away from the scroll and back at the Devil. He said, "But you're the Devil? What does a contract mean for you? You could just be saying this to trick me as well."
The Devil sighed. "There are rules, you know. If I could just trick people into losing their souls, why couldn't I just take them?"
Stanley thought about this.
Before he could reply, the Devil said, "I can't. Your soul is yours. I cannot take it from you. But you can give it to me. That is where the contract comes in."
"Ah," said Stanley, whose mind was rapidly coming to terms with events, to the point where he could actually understand something a malevolent being he didn't believe was saying.
"So, you sign this contract that grants me your soul if I win and I agree to perform whatever you want if I lose."
“I see.”
"So!" the Devil said, clapping his hands, "enough of this idle chat. How about it?"
Stanley looked at the contract the Devil was holding. He could not make out the words, but that was nothing unusual for Stanley, who had a hard time making out the television most of the time. He didn’t really mind, he’d always preferred the radio.
"Now, hold on, I have a few questions."
The Devil, who evidently did not have to field questions very often, sighed. "Like what?"
"How young will you make me?"
"How old do you want to be?"
"Twenty. No, twenty-one!"
"Then I can make you twenty-one."
Stanley regarded the Devil coldly. "You... could?"
"Yes."
"Aha!" Stanley cried triumphantly. "You're trying to trick me. You say you could turn me twenty-one, but in reality you'll turn me into a baby or something and you'll have the last laugh. I know how this works, you know."
"Really?"
"Well, no, but I've seen a lot of television in my time."
"Look, I'm not trying to trick you and make everything go horribly wrong for you. Do you want to know a secret? Most people just want money."
"Really? But money can't buy happiness."
"They know it can't buy them happiness. But they don't expect it to. Money buys you fewer worries, which is all anyone could ever really hope for, really."
Stanley nodded thoughtfully.
The Devil said, "I usually just give them a set of numbers and then change the lottery results to match. You'd be surprised how many lottery winners I've met."
Raising his eyebrows, Stanley said, "I'm sure."
The Devil smiled. Stanley was glad to see he didn't see any fangs, although he thought he might be confusing stereotypical villains there.
"How about the fairest game there is?" the Devil asked.
"Cricket?"
"No."
"Tennis?"
"No! A coin toss. A fifty fifty chance of winning."
"Or losing," Stanley said, "those are pretty bad odds."
The Devil smirked. "But I thought you had nothing to lose."
Stanley did not like the way the Devil was smiling, but he also didn't like the way he couldn't stare at girls in the street and how it took him twenty minutes to climb out of bed in a morning.
"It's a deal."
Outside, a rumble of thunder rolled across the sky.
"Did you do that?" Stanley asked, looking out of the window.
"It's the contract, not me. It knows it's going to be signed."
Stanley regarded the contract with suspicion. "Right."
The Devil produced a pen and handed it to Stanley. "Sign here," he said, handing the large scroll to Stanley.
Stanley held it uncertainly, straining to read the small and extremely curly text written upon it.
"Can I read it?" he asked.
The Devil grinned, although Stanley didn't notice. "I don't think so."
"Well, like I said," Stanley decided, taking a deep breath, "what have I got to lose?"
He put pen to paper and scribbled his name on the line.
"You might need to press it in at the top. It's a clicky pen."
"Oh."
"That’s the wrong end, turn it around."
“Ah.”
Lightning plunged down from a dark sky and illuminated the room for a brief second. There was a deafening crack that drowned out the tiny squeal of a dying chicken.
"Did you say something?" Stanley asked.
The Devil looked out of the window and smiled. "Nothing, it doesn't matter."
He took the contract quickly out of Stanley's hands and rolled it up, stuffing it inside his jacket, which was custom made to store scrolls.
Stanley shifted his weight nervously on his stool. Putting his name on contracts had always unnerved him. He asked, "Now what?"
"I want my pen back."
He handed it back slowly. It was a nice pen.
The Devil asked Stanley, "Have you got a coin? A lucky one might be good."
Stanley fished around in his pocket before producing a handful of change and fluff. He pulled a large coin from the collection and held it out for the Devil.
"You flip it, I'll call it," he said.
Stanley bit his lip and said, "You flip it. I'll call."
The Devil laughed and agreed.
"Heads," Stanley said.
The Devil nodded and balanced the coin on his finger, before flipping it high into the air. He caught it expertly and slammed it onto his hand.
"Are you ready for this Stanley?"
"No."
"A lot of people say that," the Devil commented, before revealing the coin face.
Stanley leaned in close. He couldn't quite believe his eyes, because they had misled him before, but the side facing up was heads. He'd made a bet with the Devil and won.
"Congratulations," the Devil said.
"Thank you," Stanley said.
The Devil said, "You're one of the best winners I've ever had."
"Well, it doesn't do to gloat, does it?"
"Certainly not."
The Devil stood. "Right, are you sure you still want to become young again?"
Stanley gazed out of the window. "Yes."
"You'll have to close your eyes," the Devil said.
Stanley bit his lip. "You're not going to steal my soul, are you?"
The Devil tapped the contract through his jacket. "Can't, remember?"
"Then why do I have to close my eyes? Is it so I can't see how you do it?"
The Devil sighed. "It's more for your benefit than mine. You don't want to see it. And I know. I've seen it."
Stanley shut his eyes, partly out of fear, although he was still fearful with them closed, lest the Devil steal his soul. He heard a rumble overhead and saw a flash of light through his eyelids. His skin tingled and a feeling of pressure built up inside of him.
"We're done," the Devil said, clapping his hands.
Stanley opened his eyes slowly. "Is that it?"
"I didn't think you'd want me to go for the whole elaborate transformation thing. I can do it if you like..."
Stanley turned over his hands in front of his eyes. The skin was tight over his hand. He flexed them experimentally and was pleased with the results.
"It... it worked?"
"Of course it bloody worked!" snapped the Devil.
Stanley leapt off his stool. "I'm young again!" He did some stretches, flexing his new muscles. Not only was he young, but quite fit too.
The Devil smiled. "Yes you are, Stanley. You should run around a little, stretch your new legs. You'll be amazed at how much fun just running fast is after all these years."
Stanley halted mid stretch, with his left arm arced over his head.
"Are you kidding me? There's a lightning storm out there."
The Devil looked a little taken aback. "Why... I suppose there is."
Stanley dropped onto the floor and began doing press ups. "I think... I'll wait... until... it's passed..."
The Devil nodded glumly. "Yes, that sounds like a good idea."
Stanley stood back up after his arms began to tire. "I must say, this is fantastic. I hope you don't mind losing."
"Oh no," said the Devil absent-absent mindedly looking out of the window, "it happens all the time."
Stanley did some star jumps, an activity that required a high degree of precision in a shed constructed out of other broken sheds.
"So tell me," Stanley said, very much out of breath, "if you lose all the time... why do you do it?"
The Devil's head snapped away from the window. "Listen, Stanley. I think I should be straight with you."
Stanley's star jumps gave way to a more worried but still quite energetic bouncing on the spot. "Did you trick me?"
The Devil rolled his eyes. "Well, obviously. Listen. I've got a quota to meet. I have to collect souls and I do that by tricking people. We play a game of chance, if I win I get the soul, that's a good day."
Stanley stopped jumping, but still continued to wiggle around on the spot.
The Devil bit a fingernail of his nervously. "If I lose, they get whatever they want. Then they unfortunately die in a horrible accident and I collect their soul anyway."
The Devil's gaze drifted towards the window. Stanley's followed it.
"The storm?"
"Yes. After I made you want to be young again, you would run outside and be struck by lightening and die. Then your soul would be mine. It usually takes God a few days to collect them, so if I'm nearby it's easy."
Stanley rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I see."
The Devil nodded apologetically. "Yes. I'm sorry."
Stanley sat down on his stool heavily. "But... why?"
The Devil sighed and turned away. "It's my job."
"But why do you have to trick people? Why can't you just... you know, kill people and take them that way?"
"Because there are rules, Stanley! Red tape! Corporate bullshit! I can't just go around murdering people. That’s the wrong kind of evil. It's not about temptation, then, is it? Honestly, have you even read the Bible?"
"It's been a while," Stanley said, not entirely truthfully. It had been a lot more than a while.
"Well, it's complicated." He turned to face Stanley. “Mind you, I probably could kill you right now and get away with it.”
Stanley edged away from the Devil, although there was scant edging room available in his shed.
“Oh, come on, it was a joke,” the Devil explained, rolling his eyes.
“Forgive me for being a little afraid of the Devil saying he might kill me,” Stanley said, “You've tricked me enough today as it is.”
The Devil nodded sympathetically. “Good point. Sorry.” He looked down at the floor while Stanley looked at him silently.
“I should be going,” the Devil said, “I really need to find my boss.”
Stanley bit his lip. “I hope you find him. Er, good luck.”
The Devil smiled at Stanley, which was not something he'd ever expected to tell either set of grandkids he planned to have.
“Goodbye, Stanley.”
“Goodbye, Devil.”
The Devil grinned. “It's the Devil, actually. That's the correct way to refer to me.” He thrust out a hand.
Stanley, in a moment of daring decided to shake it. It was disturbingly cold to the touch. He opening his mouth to say so, but no words came out.
The Devil's hand closed tightly around Stanley's. Stanley tried to cry out, but again, he heard nothing. As his eyes grew wide in panic, the world slipped from his view and a great and empty darkness, so impossibly empty it surpassed any experience he had felt before.
He experienced a sensation of falling and his heart rate rose. Stanley squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. When he opened his eyes, he was back in his shed.
Stanley tore his hand away and said, “What did you just do?! What's going on?!”
“Oh shit.”
Stanley looked at the Devil and saw him looking almost as concerned as Stanley felt.
“What?”
“I'm so sorry.”
“What?!”
“I think I pulled you into another dimension.”
Stanley tried to comprehend this information with his new, younger brain. However, he reasoned that since he could still remember everything that he could before, he probably didn't know anything new either, although after he thought that he thought that he wouldn't have thought that before he got a younger brain. Then he remembered that he'd just been pulled into another dimension and stopped thinking.
“What does that mean?”
“You know what reality is don't you?”
“Er, sure.”
“Right. We're in reality, but a different one from the one before. It looks quite similar, although most of them do.”
Stanley bit his lip. He felt like he was back at school again, which, he thought, might be another side effect of his new brain. “I still don't understand,” he said, sheepishly.
The Devil, who had spent most of his life walking amongst mankind, had acquired a knowledge of human culture that was the envy of Hell. He said, “Erm... did you ever see The Twilight Zone?”
“Yes!” exclaimed Stanley, brightening up.
“It's like that.”
Stanley's face fell. “Oh.”
The Devil nodded. “Indeed.”
Stanley looked out of the shed window and then back at the Devil. He said quietly, “How am I going to get back home?”
The Devil considered this. “Well, if you think about it, this is your home, just a different one.”
“I thought about it. This isn't home.”
“Right, well in that case, if you want to go home, we only have one choice.”
Stanley raised his eyebrows. “What's that?”
“We have to find God.”
This didn't inspire much confidence in Stanley, especially as five minutes prior he hadn't even believed in God, let alone put his hopes for salvation in him. “Great,” Stanley said unenthusiastically, “how do we do that?”
“Well, as you mentioned earlier, God is everywhere.”
“Right,” said Stanley, who had the feeling he was going to be told something he didn't understand again.
“So we can contact him from anywhere. With this.” The Devil reached into his jacket's inner pocket and pulled out a small device with buttons and a screen.
“Is that a mobile phone?” asked Stanley.
“Yep,” the Devil said. He pressed some buttons and looked at the screen before sighing. “Nope.”
“Nope?”
The Devil turned his phone to show Stanley, who wasn't sure what he was looking for.
Stanley said, “I like how it's got horns on top.”
The Devil looked at his phone again and pressed some more buttons. “I put them on myself. They're little antennas I added to try and improve the reception from God. They don't work very well though.”
“So what do we do now? Is that how you usually contact God?”
The Devil thrust his phone back into his pocket. “Usually. I suppose our only choice now is to get a better signal.”
Stanley frowned. “We're stood on a hill as it is.”
“No, no,” the Devil said, grinning, “the best reception is in a church. Where's the nearest one? It has to be a Christian church, though. And it can't be Roman Catholic either.”
“Why not?” Stanley asked.
“It's probably best that you don't know.”
Stanley shrugged, something he planned to be doing quite a lot with his new youthful shoulders. “There's a church in the village. It's not far from here. And that storm has stopped as well.”
“That's parallel dimensions for you,” the Devil said, which elicited nothing but a blank stare from Stanley. “Let's go.”
They walked out of Stanley's shed and into a typical middle-England day. It was overcast, not too cold and there was a slightly chilly wind blowing.
“Fancy running there?” Stanley asked, limbering up.
The Devil regarded him coldly. “Y'know, I could kill you. Nobody would even know.”
Stanley smiled and ran off down the hill.
“Hey!” The Devil shouted after him, “That wasn't a joke you know! I could really do it! Hey, come back!”
The Devil sprinted after Stanley, leaping over a chicken and dodging a wheelbarrow.
He was out of breath by the time he reached the exit to the allotment, where Stanley was waiting for him.
“Keep up!” Stanley said, a smile painted across his face.
“I... I... this human body... is flimsy... and weak...” He leaned against a fence for support while bending over, panting heavily.
“Well, the one you gave me is pretty good.”
“That... was a gift... from Hell.” The Devil stood up straight and pulled the skin on his face. “This is just a company issue body.”
“I see,” Stanley said, still smiling.
The Devil arched his back, still breathing heavily. “I tell you what, this is all my own fault. I know I shouldn't be friendly with humans.”
“Aw, come on, don't be like that!” Stanley said, throwing a few playful punches at his stomach.
The Devil's face was a picture of malcontent.
“Too much?” Stanley asked, stepping back.
“A little.”
“Sorry.”
The Devil straightened up. “I'm amazed at how little respect you have for a minion of Hell.”
Stanley grinned. “Well, I don't believe in you, remember?”
“Oh yes. I do,” the Devil said flatly. “Can you take us to this church then?”
Stanley swung his arms around and bent his knees.
“Without running,” the Devil added.
Stanley registered something in the Devil's tone of voice and decided not to push his luck any further.
They walked off together down the hill, towards the centre of Stanley's village.
After rounding a few corners, Stanley stopped suddenly.
“What?” the Devil asked.
“I forgot to lock the allotment up!” Stanley said.
The Devil frowned. “So?”
“So you're supposed to lock it up when you leave!” Stanley said with increasing glee. The Devil frowned even more. “I'd better run back and lock up.”
“Oh.”
“You can wait here if you like.”
“I think I will,” the Devil said, folding his arms.
“I won't be long!” Stanley cried as he sprinted away.
“I'm sure you won't,” the Devil muttered to Stanley's receding figure.
While he waited, he scanned his surroundings, looking for a rule compliant way of killing Stanley. He soon stopped, however, partly because a small English village offers little in the way of natural hazards and also because he felt bad about what he'd done to Stanley.
Since he knew first hand what being stuck in other dimensions was like, he knew he wouldn't want it happen to someone else, especially not a mortal who has little chance of getting back.
His train of thought was suddenly derailed by the alarming realisation that he was in another dimension. He didn't know what was different about it, at least not yet.
He looked around suspiciously, questioning everything he knew about what was once the only dimension he'd known. Had the sky always been blue? Had things always fallen down? Were brick walls always so abrasive?
The Devil could not see anything different.
Stanley returned as the Devil was chewing thoughtfully on a hedge.
“Have hedges always been so unpalatable?” the Devil asked.
Stanley, who was quickly beginning to expect the unexpected and have conversations with it, said, “Yes.”
The Devil spat out some leaves and nodded thoughtfully. “Shall we go, then?”
Stanley continued leading the Devil towards the church, nimbly avoiding every crack in the pavement, much to the Devil's chagrin.
“Do you have to do that?”
“Sorry,” said Stanley, who continued to do it but tried to make it less obvious. “It's just on the other side of the village.”
They walked past a large house, crossed a busy road and continued walking through the village toward the church. In the distance, they heard a dull roaring noise.
“That sounded like a scream,” Stanley said.
“That might be what's different about this dimension,” the Devil said.
“But what is it?”
The Devil looked at Stanley. “Do I look like an expert in parallel dimensions?”
“Well, you don't exactly look like the Devil either,” Stanley said.
“Would you want me to?”
“Probably not,” Stanley concluded.
They heard the roaring again, although this time it was louder and slightly more coherent.
“It sounds like a voice,” Stanley said.
The Devil frowned. “It does, doesn't it.”
Without saying a word, they both increased their walking pace.
They passed a few people who did not seem at all concerned about the noise.
When they next heard it again, it sounded to Stanley like someone screaming “GOD” extremely loudly.
“That definitely sounds like someone shouting,” Stanley said.
The Devil slowed his pace.
Stanley turned his head and said, “What?”
The Devil stopped and looked at the pavement briefly.
“Stanley,” he said, “there's something I've got to tell you.”
Stanley took a step towards the Devil. “What?”
Scratching his chin, the Devil said, “Well, you know how you signed that contract...”
Stanley rolled his eyes. “Another trick?!”
The Devil threw his hands up. “Again, the Devil, right here!” He pointed his thumbs at his chest. “Anyway, one of the things about the contract is that in order for you to keep your winnings, in this case your youth, you have to remain constantly exposed to the spiritual conduit mechanism that allows me to see you. This is so that your prize or winnings remain with you.”
Stanley shook his head. “You're really going to have to start toning it down for me.”
“Basically, you're going to be seeing devils and angels for the rest of your life.”
“That's going to be a long time, hopefully.”
The Devil shrugged.
“Anyway...” Stanley said, suddenly narrowing his eyes, “Why do you have to tell me that... now?”
They heard the roaring again. It went, “DAMNNNNN YOUUUU GODDDD!!”
The Devil winced. “I just thought you should know, really.”
Stanley regarded the Devil with suspicion. “Well...” he mused, walking on.
“What?”
“Will they be able to see me? And talk to me?”
“Yes. But they see a lot of humans. If you just pretend to ignore them they won't bother you.”
“That's comforting.”
“Besides,” the Devil said, “you probably won't see anything for years. We don't tend to hang around up here, you know.”
They continued walking and reached a row of shops. They passed them and turned up a hill. As they approached the top, Stanley slowed down.
“What...”
They looked across the village and saw the church spire. A large, red horned demon appeared to be sitting on it, shaking a man-sized fist at the sky.
“Is that one of them?”
The Devil nodded slowly. “Yes.”
Stanley regarded the demon perched on the church carefully. It seemed to be quite upset about something.
“Will he hurt us?” Stanley asked.
“Oh, no, he won't,” the Devil said.
“He looks like he could.”
“Yes, he can. I've seen him hurting people. They deserved it.”
Stanley nodded slowly. “That's... good.”
“Come on,” the Devil said, walking off, “I know that guy pretty well.”
“That guy...” Stanley muttered, following.
They crossed a few more streets as they climbed the hill, Stanley staring constantly at the demon on the church as they went. By the time they reached the graveyard in front of the church, the demon had climbed down and was leaning against the church.
Stanley watched as a person approached where the demon was sitting, seemingly oblivious to his presence. Before they reached the demon, they had a change of thought and turned the other way, looking puzzled.
“Hey, pit fiend!” the Devil cried jovially.
The demon's head spun around. “Wannabe?” it growled, standing. “Is that you?” It stood and walked over to them. Stanley estimated it to be two storeys high, with it's horns another half-storey at least, although everything looks bigger when you're looking up at it.
“How's it going?” the Devil asked.
Stanley was firmly trying to maintain his composure. While he had been expecting to see a demon or an angel eventually, he was really only prepared for a TV-friendly demon with a cheeky grin. What Stanley got however was a hulking mass of deep red fur draped over muscles that twitched angrily, as if they were itching to tear something's head off.
“Fucking awful, quite frankly. And who's this terrified little morsel?”
Stanley didn't even have it in him to whimper.
“He's just a mortal I dragged into the wrong dimension,” the Devil explained. “I was sort of hoping God could help him out.”
“Ha!” the demon said, spitting. “Fat chance. God has gone. There is no God!”
“Don't say that,” the Devil said, frowning, “of course there is. You went to the Christmas party. Christ was there!”
“Well, I suppose,” said the demon, stroking his chin. “But where is he now? What's going on? What's a wrong dimension?”
The Devil sighed. “You're in one. There's countless parallel dimensions. It was something the mortals did.”
“Ah,” the demon said, “them.”
“Sorry,” Stanley offered hopefully.
“Well, it wasn't your fault, was it?” said the demon. His voice dropped an octave. “Was it?”
“No!”
The demon smiled, which wasn't very friendly. “I'm Dreadlord.”
“Stanley,” said Stanley, trying to act calm.
Dreadlord looked at Stanley thoughtfully, which was quite disconcerting given the malevolent stare the demon was capable of performing.
Dreadlord said, “How did you come to meet this little demon here, anyway?”
“I thought he was the Devil,” Stanley said.
Dreadlord threw his head back and laughed. “Really? He said that?”
“I am!” the Devil said hotly.
Laughing, Dreadlord said, “Yes... but...”
The Devil folded his arms. Stanley looked sidelong at him.
Dreadlord stopped laughing and said to Stanley, “He's just a regular demon, like me. But he changed his name to 'the Devil' because people were always asking him if he was. The actual Devil never goes out of Hell now, but people kind of expect him.”
“Yeah, thanks, tell the world,” the Devil said.
Dreadlord leaned closer to Stanley and said, “His first name is actually, 'the'! Imagine that!”
“Highly amusing,” the Devil said, walking off. “I'm going inside to see if I can get any reception.”
Stanley took a step after him when Dreadlord engaged him in conversation. “So, how come you met up with that guy anyway? Did you summon him?”
Stanley shook his head. “No. I was an old man and I bet my soul for youth. I won.”
Dreadlord raised a cat sized eyebrow. "He tempted you?"
"Yes. I didn't believe in him so I did it and, well, I won. Now I'm young again." Stanley resisted the urge to do a little twirl.
Dreadlord rubbed his head. "I can't believe it!"
Stanley shrugged. "He is the Devil."
"A demon, actually. I can't believe he was still working."
Stanley frowned. His neck was beginning to ache talking to Dreadlord. "Why? Isn't that his job?"
"Well, yeah, but, every since all this stuff happened, I haven't been working.  I haven't even showered. The world's gone crazy, man."
Stanley looked towards the church. "The Devil said that is was something to do with parallel dimensions."
Dreadlord nodded knowingly. "I don't know anything about parallel dimensions. All I know is, God has gone."
"The Devil said he was going to try and... call him?"
Dreadlord pulled a mobile phone out of a small bag hanging by his side. It was the size of a door when he'd flipped it open. The large amount of material meant a large scope for flame detailing, which Dreadlord apparently had taken full advantage of.
"Tried that," Dreadlord said. "Nothing."
The Devil emerged from the church with his hands in his pockets.
"Anything?" asked Dreadlord.
"Nothing," he said.
"What are we going to do?"
Presently, the church's priest strolled out and directly towards Stanley.
"Excuse me!" he cried, waving.
"Oh, here we go," the Devil said, walking past Stanley to lean sullenly against a tree.
"Hello," the priest said. "I must say, I've not seen you around here before. Are you new to the village?"
"Oh, er," Stanley said, his eyes darting to the giant red horned beast  sitting nearby. "Erm, I... oh, er, yes."
The priest narrowed his eyes. "Right? And what brings you to the church on this fine day?"
Dreadlord looked at the Devil. He said, "So, you said parallel dimensions? What's all that about then?"
"Humans invented the ability to travel back in time to a certain point where they'd made a hole, right?"
Dreadlord shook his head.
Stanley was somewhat distracted by the discussion of parallel dimensions and stared dumbly at the priest.
"Are you alright?" the priest asked.
The Devil said, "So before, only one thing could happen after another in time. But now that people can go back and change it, there's an infinite amount of possibilities that could happen and they are existing in the universe. Each dimension runs parallel to the rest."
"Hello?" the priest said.
Shaking his head, Stanley said, "Uh? Parallel dimensions?"
The priest stuck out his jaw. "I think you should leave. Or I'll call the police."
He spun around and marched off quickly, checking behind him.
"Great, thanks," Stanley said, turning and glaring at the two demons. "It's rude to talk over people, you know. Especially when the other person can't even see you!"
"Sorry. I suppose we don't usually have to deal with situations like that."
"Sounds like a good idea for a sitcom," Dreadlord mused.
"Hilarious," Stanley said, his tone of voice indicating much the opposite. "It's a good job that priest didn't recognise me."
The two demons were little troubled by Stanley's irritation.
Dreadlord said, "So, if we can't get reception to God, what are we going to do?"
The Devil shrugged.
"Are you going to do some more work?" Dreadlord asked.
"Shut up," the Devil said, "I didn't realise it was this bad. Besides, I was out of Hell on a job anyway. What were you doing here?"
"We got some intel that someone was going to burn down a church. I was  asked to make an appearance."
"Ah, some PR."
Dreadlord nodded.
"Excuse me," Stanley said, "but why can't God fix it?"
"Well, it's quite complicated..."
"But I thought He made the world!"
"He?" Dreadlord said, raising a massive eyebrow.
The Devil grinned at Stanley, who was looking confused.
"Isn't he a He?"
Dreadlord laughed. "Well..."
"Listen," the Devil said quickly, "why don't we just all hold hands-"
"-or talons-"
"-or, wait, you don't have talons."
"Oh, I must have left them on my other body."
"Anyway," the Devil said, "we should just keep trying to drop through dimensions until we find God."
"But I thought there were an infinite number of them," Stanley said.
The Devil shrugged. "Got any better ideas?"
Stanley looked around the churchyard. The sun was shining, birds were singing and everything around him was familiar. He'd lived in the same village for his entire life.
"I don't see what's so bad about this place, to be honest."
"I'm not leaving you here," the Devil said firmly.
"But-"
"I'm sure it's against human interaction regulations to leave you in the wrong dimension. I'm sure there's another you here somewhere and it could get very messy. And I'd have to report it, too. Far too many problems. I'm taking you to God. Playing it by the book."
Stanley nodded slowly. "Right."
The Devil held out his palms. "Shall we go, then?"
Dreadlord arched an eyebrow. "So you know how to get to these other dimensions, then?"
The Devil thought about this a moment and said, "Kind of."
Dreadlord and Stanley caught each other's glance and shared a moment of understanding, something Stanley had no expected or desired.
"Come on then," Dreadlord said.
Nervously, they both held on the Devil's hands. Stanley closed his eyes. The Devil frowned, tensed up and took a step forward.
Nothing happened.
"Come on-"
The now instantly familiar feeling swept over Stanley and the world disappeared from view. He felt a little less sick than last time.
The world faded back and the feeling went. They were stood in a very similar looking churchyard. There was a bit more cloud in the sky, Stanley noted, but he could not find anything else different.
"Excuse me!" came a voice.
The trio quickly let go of each others hands and turned to look at the owner of the voice. It was the church's priest.
"Hello again," Stanley said.
"What?"
"I'm going inside," the Devil said, producing his phone.
"See you soon," Stanley said.
The priest frowned. "Are you alright?"
Stanley remembered his situation and said, "Oh, yes, sorry. Hello."
The priest nodded slowly. "Hello. I've not seen you around before. Are you new to the village?"
Stanley considered this question thoughtfully and finally decided upon, "Yes."
"Right. Well, welcome to our church. If you need anything, I will be inside. Are you interested in joining our church?"
"I'm just visiting," Stanley said.
"I see, I see. Well, goodbye," the priest said, walking away. As he proceeded down the path, he looked quickly behind him.
He passed the Devil who was leaving the church.
"Anything?" Stanley asked.
The priest poked his head out of the doorway suspiciously.
"No."
"Again?"
"Yes."
The priest watched in mounting horror as the man talking to himself in the churchyard held out his hand, moved it around a little and disappeared. Then he fainted, knocked his head on the stone step and died instantly.
They slipped through to another dimension and landed in exactly the same place.
There was a bright flash and a piercing shriek.
"Who are you?!"
Stanley turned slowly to face a wrinkled, furious and extremely well dressed woman.
"What are you doing here? This is a private wedding."
"Er," Stanley said.
"Oops," the Devil commented from behind the wedding group.
"Are you a photographer?!" the woman cried, pushing her face towards Stanley's with menace. His new strength and agility floundered in the face of his accuser.
"No?"
"You are! You're a covert photographer! Get out of here, before I call my cousin Brian."
The Devil meandered through the crowd towards the church. "I'll be back in a minute, Stanley!"
"Be quick!" Stanley said.
The old woman in front of him pouted with fury. "Oh, wise guy, eh? Brian! BRIAN!"
"Okay, I'm going!" Stanley said, holding up his hands. He wasn't sure what kind of wedding it was, but he certainly didn't recognise anybody there and anything from out of the village was usually trouble, although quite a lot of things from in the village also trouble.
Stanley looked towards Dreadlord who was returning what Stanley assumed must have been a smirk. "I'll, uh, see you outside," he said, pointing towards the exit.
"Right," Dreadlord said calmly, while the wedding party mysterious curved away from him.
The old woman who was harrying Stanley ripened with indignation. "There's more of you here?!" she gasped, barely able to remain conscious. "Where are you?!"
She marched off around the congregation, while Stanley marched quickly out of the churchyard after spotting Brian who was also partaking in the marching trend.
Stanley leaned against the churchyard wall and sighed.
He heard the old woman shout, "You! I've not seen you before!"
Then he heard the reply, "I'm the groom, Audrey!"
Stanley stretched and looked down the street. The village had been his home his entire life, but now it looked strangely alien to him. He spotted Brian peering over the wall at him and he decided to cross the road, so he could at least lean and keep Brian in his view.
Presently, the Devil exited the churchyard and beckoned Stanley over.
"Nothing," he said.
"This is pretty dangerous work," Stanley said. "How much longer do you think it will take?"
"Oh, that was just a statistical blip. Bound to happen eventually. Anyway, let's get on, shall we?"
They held hands and quickly slipped through into another dimension.
They looked around carefully and stepped into the churchyard. Everything was peaceful.
"A bit sunnier," Stanley noted. "But that's about..."
Suddenly, there was an impossibly bright flash in the distance and a dull roar succeeded it.
Dreadlord was the first to panic. "Shit! Come on!" He thrust his hand at the Devil.
"What is it... oh."
Stanley and the Devil quickly held each others hand as they watched a mushroom cloud rising over the tree line.
"Come on, come on!" Dreadlord shouted, who could see things coming towards them he was glad the Devil could not.
The Devil was closing his eyes, clenching every muscle group he could and leaning forward dramatically.
"Come on!" Stanley took to shouting.
"I can't do it if you're pressuring me! It's hard!"
"It's not me that's pressuring you! It's a thermonuclear explosion!"
"Not really helping!" the Devil cried.
Dreadlord looked towards the nuclear blast. He saw the shockwave tearing towards them and it was getting uncomfortably close, even for a minion of Hell.
"This is going to be baaaa-"
The shockwave hit and sent them all flying. Stanley closed his eyes.
They were smashed with impunity into a stone wall, still holding hands.
"Oh, fuck!" Stanley said.
With that, the world disappeared and reappeared moments later.
Stanley opened his eyes. It was raining, but at least nothing nuclear was exploding.
"Just in a nick of time, eh?" Dreadlord mused sourly, pulling a few bushes from his fur.
"This dimension is all upside-down," Stanley commented.
"You're upside-down," Dreadlord offered helpfully.
The Devil stood up unsteadily and said, "I'm going to... check my phone..."
Stanley rolled backwards and stood up. He was pleasantly surprised that he'd handled being thrown into a wall so well, although it was not something he particularly wanted to excel at.
The Devil returned with no news, which was bad news. "Come on," he said, "Next dimension."
Rubbing his head, Stanley said, "What happens if I die before you find God?"
The Devil pointed a stern finger at Stanley. He said angrily, "You'd better not die."
"I was wondering,” Dreadlord said, “I thought you slept when it got dark.”
Stanley, who did not wish to engage two demons in a conversation about resting, sleeping and when humans desired these things, said, "I suppose."
The Devil held out his hands and Stanley and Dreadlord took them. They closed their eyes and a few moments later opened them again. The rain was distinctly heavier.
Stanley scanned his surroundings nervously, taking cover under a tree. The Devil walked into the church without a word. Stanley was looking for the church's priest, who he was sure would leap out at him any second and strike the fear of God into him, whatever that was.
The Devil did not take long and briskly walked out of the church towards Stanley and Dreadlord.
"Next," he said, holding out his hands.
Stanley, who had been expecting to see the priest, even in the rain, looked around nervously for his presence. He examined his surroundings carefully. Before the Devil could complain at him, he frowned, pointed up the church spire and said, "Was that there in the other dimensions?"
The two demons turned to look and saw a flag crudely thrust through the spire. It was also glowing white and flapping with utter disregard for the actual wind.
The Devil turned to Dreadlord and said, "You're tall. Go and get it."
"That's discrimination," Dreadlord said sourly, getting to his feet. "Being tall is a disability."
"No it's not, being tall must be great," the Devil said.
"Really?" Dreadlord said, raising his eyebrows and staring down and the Devil and Stanley from his lofty standing position. "What's so good about it?"
"Well," the Devil said, "you can reach high things?"
"Anyone can do that with a bit of effort," Dreadlord said. "What else?"
"Er...  you can see... over things?"
"That's a pretty lame benefit," Dreadlord said, "I've seen over plenty of things and never thought 'thank goodness I'm tall enough to see this'. There's nothing good to see above standard human height, trust me."
"It's quite intimidating!" Stanley said, wading in.
Dreadlord cast a withering glance at Stanley. He said, "Yes, without my height I would just be a cute fluffy kitten, wouldn't I? Face it, being tall sucks. I have to duck under almost every doorway, no chairs fit me and I get terrible back ache. I have to pay extra to see a tall enough chiropractor to fix me. It sucks."
The Devil looked at Stanley and rolled his eyes. "Just get the flag, will you?"
Dreadlord took one stride towards the church, reached up and plucked the flag from out of the spire. It was humming gently, Stanley noted, as Dreadlord bought it down to ground level.
He spread it out on the ground and they all peered at what was written upon it.
Stanley frowned, because the glow was quite bright. He thought to himself that just a day ago, he would have queried why the flag was glowing without any apparent mechanism for doing so, but Stanley was a changed man. He said, "Are these... runes? The language of God?"
"It's traditional Chinese, actually."
"Really?"
"Don't ask," Dreadlord said.
The Devil and Dreadlord read the flag quickly.
"Well, I don't believe it," Dreadlord said.
"I don't know why I didn't know that before."
"That's remarkable."
Stanley looked at them both, bewildered. "What? What is it?!"
Dreadlord picked the flag up and stabbed it back into the church.
The Devil beamed at Stanley. "It's instructions on how to get home. It's surprisingly simple, actually. I suppose once you know, it makes perfect sense."
Stanley brightened up. "So, how do you do it?!"
The Devil bit his lip. "Well, we could tell you, but you wouldn't understand. You don't have enough senses to comprehend how it works."
Stanley, who hadn't comprehended how a lot of things had worked recently, accepted this answer happily. "Well, shall we go, then?"
They held hands for what Stanley hoped to be the last time.
"Excuse me!" a voice cried behind them.
Without looking back, Stanley raised his free hand and flipped a very firm middle finger at the priest, before promptly disappearing.