Now that Poliphilos had decided to start the new project, he first needed an ending.

And who better to ask about endings than a demon? Perhaps not a prince or even a duke in this case — a minor marquis, earl, or baron should do just fine.

Poliphilos had had his share of encounters with such beings before. 

One doesn’t engage in his line of work without paying a price.

To summon one, he headed to a popular crossing of two ways in the nearby park, outside the palace known for such purposes. The signs were unmistakable: scorched flora, remnants of explosions, and the occasional skeleton. 

“Poor bastards,” he muttered, surveying the scene. “You really should have done your homework better.”

Poliphilos had done his.

He carried a specific kind of box with the required engravings. Inside were scissors and a small book of hymns soaked in red wine. This should do it.

And it did.

Mere seconds after burying the box in the ground, a particularly nasty-looking low-level baron appeared, clearly displeased.

“Well, the Devil be damned if it ain’t Mr. Know-it-all Friend of Nobody! Ready to take your place in one of my tar pits?”

“Not just yet. Need an idea. For a song.”

“You WHAT?” The baron couldn’t believe his ears.

“Yeah. It has to include a human, a wish for a better life, and an encounter with the supernatural. What do you got?”

“What do I got? What do I got? I have NOTHING for YOU. A fucking love song? What am I? Some pathetic singer-songwriter from hell?”

“You could be!”

“Screw that and screw your ‘song’!”

Dear esteemed reader, I’ll spare you the details of the rest. Just know that the negotiations went on like this for the better part of an hour until the baron eventually blurted:

“Oh for Satan’s sake! Just whip up some pathetic plot about ‘InternetLoser29’ who, I dunno, goes to a bar, meets a disguised demon, has fun, and is then destroyed! That’s what any amateur having watched a few episodes of Supernatural would do.”

“That’s a nice idea! But let’s make it interesting and have the main character be the one, who’s planned the whole thing!”

“P, for the hate of Satan, if you go down this road, I SWEAR…”

Jackpot!

When they got this annoyed, Poliphilos knew he was close to something.

“Ok, thanks, that’ll do.”

“P, we’ll be waiting when you eventually screw up your—”

“No, you won’t. Go push your papers,” Poliphilos retorted as he dug the box up, set it on fire and watched the demon vanish.

“I shall call this ‘World Renewed’ and it’ll be the last song on the album. Let’s see how they take that down there.”

Satisfied with the idea, the lyrics and melody already flooded his mind.

“Messenger!” he called.

In a swoosh, the messenger appeared.

“Note this down: ‘In the bar, he’s waiting for you….’”

And that, dear reader, is how “World renewed” came to be.

You can listen to it here.

*

Have you ever used extraordinary measures to achieve a goal?

What were they, and were they worth it?