Jamie, Don't Touch That!

"Alright children, sit down and…" The shattering of glass echoed throughout the dimly lit room of the orphanage. "FOR GOD'S SAKE JAMIE I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH THAT!"

Fuming, the nurse grabbed the freely roaming children and sat them down on the hairy old carpet.

The children sat in a circle, each writing out what they wanted for Christmas, constant scribbling echoed throughout the confined space.

Jack glanced over at Jill, who seemed to be frantically jotting down many points with a worried expression. Jack shook his head before turning back to his own paper.

There wasn't much he wanted, he had never been a greedy child, always putting others ahead of him. Yet this year, for the first time in eight years of his life, he lifted the quill, and scratched out a single line upon the parchment.

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"Hopefully the children don't ask for expensive toys like last year, right Ann?"

"I get what you mean, we had to spend over $100 to fulfill the requests!"

"Look at this one, he only wants a pen. I can already tell he'll be a business man in the future."

The two women continued sorting the pile of letters, compiling a list of toys and substitute toys to buy the next day. Wearily, the women decided to take a short break, a dozen letters still untouched. As they walked out of the small bedroom, the gales formed an unnatural hand, lifting the heavy wooden frame of the window and creeping across the tabletop before scattering the letters on top throughout the room.

Amongst the fallen parchments, a single, yellowed piece drifted away from the rest, and flew silently out with gale that now shut the window frame.

"By the Devil, what has happened? Quickly Ann, collect these papers before the dust settles upon them."

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Ten thousand kilometres away, a frosted hand reached out to a floating letter, now hovering above a red postbox in front of a cozy cabin. "Another direct letter, there are many immaterial wishes this year aren't there?" Santa laughed to himself.

Without looking at the address, he opened the letter, revealing the crinkled yellowed parchment.

Dear Satan

His chubby hands snap shut the parchment, instantly resealing the letter, sweat still dripping from his wrinkled forehead. It was forbidden by ancestral law, to open letters of other gods and heroes without their knowing, his carelessness had almost gotten him jailed, or even worse, killed.

Satan was a fallen celestial, a being that no person would be willing to offend, even God himself had to step cautiously around Satan in fear of retaliation.

What had this minute hero named Santa almost done, he had almost offended a celestial with the power to eradicate his home with a glance. Cold shivers ran down his back, jolting him to immediately redirect the letter back to Satan. Who knew what kind of demonic plot was lying within that parchment.

"I'd better punish those messenger elves sometime, they've been getting slack and careless recently" muttered the chubby man while reaching out for his next parchment, this time, carefully checking the address.

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Satan lay lazily upon his comfortable king size bed, contemplating a very serious issue. One may believe he was planning another invasion on Earth, but he was really just thinking how cozy and soft his bed was. One must know this bed was bought from a premium mattress store up on the surface and was made of only the most priceless and soft materials.

Thousands of majestic molten pillars raised high into the air before a loud voice boomed throughout the hallways. "LORD SATAN! A MESSAGE SEEKS YOUR ATTENTION!"

"Do you have to do it so exaggeratedly every time? Can't you just bring it to me like a normal messenger?" Satan rolled his eyes, dejectedly.

The messenger ignored the comment, floating the parchment into Satan's hands while kneeling. "Should I send the snow fairy back, Lord Satan?"

Satan flicked his hands, sending the messenger back with a nod.

Snow fairy? These messengers only belonged to a certain set of winter gods. Could it be the Ice Drake? The Lady of Snow? Or maybe even the Frost Deity?!

Satan quickly unsealed the letter, finding a scribbled line of almost illegible writing.

Dear Satan

Grant me the strength to help others

Jack

A relatively simple request, and yet Satan could feel the emotions and naive of children, so prominent in the aura of this parchment.

'What has a Devil like me become, first I collect all the cookies in the world and send it to an orphanage, and now I help a child achieve compassion?' Satan was seriously questioning himself at this point.

"I guess it can't be helped", Satan raised his demonic claw, imprinting a line of words, even shorter than the boy's. The strands of fate and karma intertwined, sealing itself within the parchment, before the paper sheet flew through a slit in the void, traversing time to a future world.

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Jack was surrounded, by books of law, books of medicine, books of finance. University was stressful, and he had yet to decide what he wanted to become in the future.

"Jack! Don't work yourself too hard, remember to take breaks!"

Those voices were his foster parents, the mother had birth related deficiencies, and he was selected as their foster child. They were nice people, and yet they had been left behind by the times of technology, unable to keep a stable job.

Hence, Jack was stressing over his career choices. He had to protect his foster parents, no.. his family.

*Ding*

A message? It was an unusually occurrence as the only social group he had joined was a novel translation site's Biscord.

(╯°ß°)╯︵ ㄥ6uɐɯllᴉɯ 「 ELoN 」Today 5.01pm

We've decided to run a writing competition! If this first competition is successful, we'll run it more often. You guys can write a story, and members of the server can vote for their favourites….

A story! What an idea. He had found out that many authors relieved their stress through stories and often conveyed their emotions through them. And there was even the enticing role reward!

But what to write about. Jack had never written an original novel in his life.

Dystopian Society? That was too complex.

Romance? No experience to base it off.

Martial Arts? Too generic.

Jack walked down the stairs as the thoughts ran vividly through his head. What was there to take as inspiration. He enjoyed reading almost every genre of novels and yet he couldn't think of anything to write. This was horrendous.

Jack opened the shoe cupboard to retrieve some slippers when a piece of scrap like paper caught his eye. He had not seen letters in years as technology began to take over, especially this yellowed parchment that seemed as old as letters could get.

To Jack of the HUAN Foster Family

This must've been a prank from his university friends as they were the only ones who knew his foster son identity. Carefully peeling open the letter, ready to sprint at a moments notice, Jack peered inside.

Upon identifying a parchment and a parchment only, Jack pulled it out and read its contents.

Dear Satan

Grant me the strength to help others

Jack

The lines felt familiar, it was most likely something he wrote back at the orphanage although he had no idea why it was addressed to Satan.

A powerful force lifted the parchment from his hand, the paper rotated in the air, displaying mighty characters, reading.

Just be yourself

Satan

This was such a joke, how could Satan actually exist. Gods and celestials were just superstition, there was no such thing.

Wait…

His novel

He could write about himself!

That's why the letter said "Just be yourself"

It was almost genius, there would be no overlaps, one's own story was guaranteed original!

Jack's fingers flew unnaturally quickly across the keyboard as memories and emotions resurfaced.

"Alright children, sit down and…", the shattering of glass echoed throughout the dimly lit room of the orphanage. "FOR GOD'S SAKE JAMIE I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH THAT!"

The memories were sweet. Whoever wrote that letter was a savior, He was fulfilled.

What lawyer, what doctor, what finance.

Being a novelist was the way to live life, to contribute to thousands of chapters of stories, written personally by authors to express their feelings. It was decided, he would post this up to w*bnovel.com, he would become one of those authors!

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Satan, once again was cuddling his cozy bed, this time, with a dakimakura pillow that the humans had invented. A cold severing echoed within his mind.

A satisfied smile filled his face. "Another request granted"