The Grand Grimoire

A grinning black owl clinged to the dead hawthorn, spreading it's branches over the black graveyard fence. It almost seemed like the twisted tree was trying to escape through the tall bars of cold metal. It must've known that there was no way out and yet it tried to reach the freedom beyond the horrible cemetery.
In the shadows, between the numerous massive crypts walked a dark figure. He slid his hand along the cracked wall of an ancient mausoleum. The faint breath of the centuries slowly leaked out of the marble and sent traces of long forgotten memories flashing through his head. The man stopped and took a deep breath.
It wasn't the tomb he was looking for... but he could feel it getting closer and closer by the step. The ghastly gentleman gallantly stepped in front of a heavily tilted marble cross bearing celtic engravings under a thick layer of moss. Thin streams of rain were dripping down his face and soaking into his black tailcoat embroidered with bloodred silk. The sky was almost completely black as if it was reflecting the man's state of mind. A threatening thunderclap woke him from the shallow daydream, that had silently crept to his mind and he could feel that he wasn't alone anymore.

"Hello, Viki." The man stood still and listened to the girl's feet swinging through the air in the most childish and carefree way while she was sitting on top of a comically large and out of shape tombstone. One of her black and white striped stockings was pulled up over her knee and the other one had fallen loosely around her ankle. The girl casted a glance from beneath her tophat, which was tightly stitched together from grayish-brown pieces of human skin. Her face was framed with perfect locks of bright white hair and her fern-green eyes rimmed with odd golden rings around her irises.
"My name is Victoria." She said with a slight irritation in her soft voice.
"I heard you were in town... I thought that even you wouldn't be so stupid to lift your foot in my town, but I was obviously wrong, Mr. H."
The man adjusted his perfectly round glasses and looked at the girl.
"It's doctor actually... And I can assure you that I am not looking for trouble."
She jumped off the tombstone and placed her index finger on the man's red cravat.
"Then what are you looking for, darling?"
"I'm guessing that you won't leave me alone until you find out..."
"That's right, honey. So you better start talking or I am forced to use... force." Her cute grin took a mad and rather sinister tone.

Dr. H  closed his eyes and tried to pick up the dark trace again.
"I bet you have heard of the Grand Grimoire." The girls eyes widened and although the man had shut his, he could still see everything. "I thought so." He continued. "The Grimoire of Honorius- The mother of every grimoire. I have traced it for decades now... I missed it in 1332 when captain John Crabbe cursed his ship and crew for eternity with the help of that book. I tell you he was a horrible man, but a genius at that... no one else had a ship-mounted catapult. John Dee had it for a while and Erik Weisz, a man of many names, people thought he was a fake, but in actuality a very influential magician... hiding behind cheap tricks, smoke and mirrors."
The man had led the girl to the other end of the graveyard without opening his eyes and talking all along.
The girl seemed worried. "You think it's here?"
"I know it." The man replied "I can feel it... whispering..."
The man opened his eyes and beheld the grotesque building towering in front of him. Large stone-slabs forming dark walls, that hold the most horrible curse. Two grinning devil statues on each side of the massive door added yet another dimension of evil to the atrocious crypt. He placed one hand on the weird decorative plate right in the middle of the door, his eyes lit up in a miasma of dark-red lights, while the giant stone-plate imbued with flaming-red cracks and finally cascaded into millions of little pieces. His eyes turned back to normal as he starightened his coat. The white haired girl stared into his eyes and asked:
"What are you going to do with it?"
He looked down at her and smirked as he backed into the stairway leading under the cemetery.
"Destroy the world, cupcake...destroy the world."

The Gravedigger's Son

      "A long time ago, in a small village near London, there was a gravedigger of skill. Some say he could dig a hundres graves in just one night. He was a humble man, who didn't ask for much and lived in a hut near the graveyard... there were rumors that his real home was in the thick forest surrounding the old cemetery, but who really believes these stories.

     One cold night in the middle of winter, when the man was shoveling snow out of the fresh graves, he saw one of them open in a haze of fire and out of it ascended a tall man with black wings- Lucifer. He offered the gravedigger a job and in return, he'd get anything he wanted. The man accepted Lucifer's offer, was taken to the underworld and given an unbreakable shovel, that would never get dull. He spent 20 years in Hell and after he finished digging deepest pit of Hell- Tartarus, he was given one request to make before sending him back to the surface. The gravedigger bowed before Lucifer and asked for the shovel, that had stayed sharp after all these years and Lucifer was amazed by the simplicity of his needs, but still respected the promise he had made.

    This story has been passed down from father to son for countless generations, and every word of it is true." Said the old man in a long leather coat while limping between the graves and occasionally casting glances at the young man following him. They stopped at an unmarked grave. "According to the legend Lucifer had told the gravedigger, that his skills will never die as they will be passed on with Lucifer's shovel, because Hell will always need a gravedigger. 

    The old man kept the strange shovel with him at all times and when he died his son was asked to finish the gravedigger's last job- Three graves had to be dug in the graveyard. The gravedigger's son grabbed Lucifer's shovel and by the morning a hundred new graves had appeared. Next day, the son buried his father with the shovel and kept in mind the story of the old gravedigger and his pact with Lucifer. Now the shovel is your's and after a while, you'll tell this story to your son." The bearded elder finished and sat on a large stone next to the grave. The young man looked at the empty tombstone and asked: "What if Lucifer comes for his new gravedigger." The elder smiled: "Then you dig..."

A shovel is an axe, a sword, a spear and a hammer combined... and you can also dig a grave with it.

Late night Lucifer

Gray walls constructed of large stone slabs, ominous red lights shining from the eyes of small gargoyle statues, sturdy iron chains dangling from the ceiling and a bored man leaning on his palm behind his mahogany desk. *click-click* *click-click* The little golden pen between the lean fingers of Lucifer had been playing the same rythm for hours. His suit was wrinkled and the tip of his red tie was still a bit wet from the coffee he had spilled all over the soul-transfer papers. The fallen angel grunted and slid his hands through his long black hair. "How the fuck am I supposed to fit all these sinful souls into hell... I'm going to have to release some of them... but there aren't enough purified souls..." He riffled through packs of papers and finally pulled a laptop out of the top drawer of the desk. The devil slid his fingers over the rough, reptilic cover of the computer, opened it swiftly and started typing with inhuman speed and demonic concentration. "It seems I could send some half-complete souls out to make room for the new damned ones... but they would be prone to douchebaggery..." Lucifer's red eyes were nailed to the screen, while he nibbled on the nail of his thumb. "Well fuck it! Let there be douchebags!" The devil hit the "send" button with determination and propelled out of his chair. The charming demonic overlord straightened his suit and walked out of his office with a slight dancey ease in his steps.