The Devil and the Little Girl
A Fairy Tale
There once was a widow who, as a young woman, had developed a taste for rotting flesh. How that came to be, no one knew; however, it was said that in her youth, the widow was struck with an illness which rendered her completely immobile.
Her father, too poor to afford a doctor, went to the local Wise Woman. After consulting the stars that spread high above the night sky, the Wise Woman advised the father to feed his daughter a piece of decaying human body. He did as he was told, and within days his daughter became well again. However, apart from the occasional mouthful of bread and milk, from that day forward she refused to eat anything else but rotting human flesh. Her father was forced to spend every night roaming through the local cemeteries, and that’s where he was discovered one morning, his body blanketed in a thick layer of snow.
After the funeral, the young woman was married off to a local weaver. The union was not a happy one, as the weaver constantly complained that his bride smelled of spoiled meat and was leaving the house every night. But he too died within a year, leaving his wife a widow and a mother to their infant daughter named Amabel.
As the years passed, the widow’s health deteriorated, and she could no longer leave the house to search for food. To satisfy her craving, little Amabel was sent out instead. Although every night the little girl did her best, she usually came home empty-handed. One night, the widow was in a particularly foul mood for she had not had her favorite dish in a long time. When Amabel failed, again, to bring anything, the widow screamed and hurled abuse at her daughter.
“May the fires of hell ravage you,” the widow shouted. “You ungrateful thing!”
It just so happened that the Devil, who had been out in search of souls, was passing by the area. When he heard the commotion coming from the widow’s house, he became curious and crawled down the chimney to investigate. There he heard shouting, crashing to plates, and the unmistakable sound of bitter weeping. The widow by now had worked herself into a frenzy and before collapsing back into bed she said: “I shall not hesitate to sell you to the devil for some rotting flesh!”
“I shall not hesitate to sell you to the devil for some rotting flesh!”
Upon hearing the widow, the Devil smiled and scrambled back up the flue. The next night he came back to pay them a visit, disguised as a peddler. Knocking at the widow’s door he said,
“Kind people, might not I not come in for a moment to show you my wares?”
“Be gone,” the widow shouted from inside. “Is this a cruel joke? My daughter and I have no money, not even for food.”
“But Mama,” Amabel pleaded. “It’s cold and windy outside. May we invite him in for a cup of tea, so he can rest his legs?”
Back and forth they went until the widow agreed to open the door. Once inside, Amabel poured the Devil a mug of bitter tea and offered him a seat near the hearth. When he had finished his drink, the Devil stood up and said:
“I thank you for your hospitality. Before I go, please, might you not look at my goods?”
Eager to send him on his way, the widow agreed.
From his bundle the Devil pulled out several trinkets and laid them on the table: a wood comb, glass beads, a metal crucifix, and a few icons blackened with age. Amabel feigned interest, but her mother grimaced and said:
“What you are showing us is no different from garbage. I guarantee we shall have better luck digging through the neighborhood trash.”
“Ah, but Madame,” the Devil smiled. “I am sure you will be hard pressed to find something like this.”
Then he placed a small copper chest before the mother and daughter.
“So poor are we that we have nothing to put into that box,” the widow snickered.
“This is no ordinary chest,” the Devil replied. “You need not put anything inside, for its purpose is not to store items. Please Madame, what is it that you most desire right now?”
Without hesitation, the widow smugly replied that she wanted nothing more than rotting human flesh to feast on. She was shocked to see that no sooner than she had spoken, the chest became full of exactly what she had said she wanted. The widow’s nostrils flared as she smelled the stench of decay and her eyes sparkled in delight.
“What sorcery,” Amabel gasped.
Her mother, whose heart was immediately became possessed by greed, asked the Devil if his magic chest was for sale.
“Yes of course,” the Devil replied. “For a price.”
Then throwing away his disguise, the Devil revealed himself to Amabel and the widow. Upon seeing who the peddler was, the widow shook in terror and threw herself behind her daughter.
“Ah, you have come to take me to hell!” She cried out.
“Indeed not.”
“Then what is that you want?” the widow asked, relieved.
“Your daughter,” came the reply. He raised his arm and pointed at young Amabel. “In exchange for all the rotting flesh you want.”
Frightened but unable to resist the temptation, the widow agreed to the transaction and signed the guardianship of her daughter over to the Devil. Amabel protested, but quickly realized that she could not change anything.
“Good bye, dear,” said the widow to the weeping girl. “May he treat you better than you own mother ever did.”
Too sad and overwhelmed to speak, the little girl could not utter a reply. With a loud shriek, the Devil snatched Amabel and flew away into the night.
When they reached his den, the Devil led Amabel to his cellar. Trembling, for she had heard that demons ate little children, the girl asked her new guardian, “What will happen to me?”
The Devil held out a small leather pouch and emptied the contents onto the table. Out came tumbling five souls, each no bigger than a man’s finger. Naked and hairless like newborn rats, they squirmed and crawled feebly around in circles. A small roll of paper was pinned to each of their backs. The Devil reached out and held one between his thumb and forefinger.
“You will be my new helper,” he said. “For I need assistance in storing the souls that come into my possession. I have a few dozen, but I need a million more. Once I have all the souls I need, you will be released to do as you please.”
From that day on, Amabel became a part of the Devil’s household. Every day after the Devil left his lair, Amabel cooked, cleaned, and mended his disguises. At night when the Devil returned from his journey, she took the souls he had collected during the day and took them to the cellar where she slept. First, she boiled them in a large pot, crying bitterly as she did so. When she could no longer hear the screams, she used her metal tong and placed each in their own jar. Then they were immersed in vinegar and verjuice until the container was full. After the lid was shut and sealed with the contract the person had signed with the Devil, each jar was placed on the shelf by her bed.
Although Amabel grew up knowing little of her mother’s love, she prayed for the day she could return home and see her mother again. To soothe her troubled mind, Amabel used charcoal from the fireplace and marked each passing day on the cellar wall.
Years passed. Amabel, who by this time had outgrown the cellar, was now sleeping in the kitchen next to the stove. Under the Devil’s care she had become a tall, healthy young woman.
One night as she was preparing for bed, the Devil appeared before her and said, “The time has come. I have now just collected my last soul. With my purpose fulfilled, I shall no longer need your service. But before I give you my leather pouch, it will please me very much if you sign this document to make your freedom official.”
From his breast the Devil pulled out contract written on a parchment made of fine sheep skin. Amabel’s face turned pale while the Devil laughed with glee.
“Nothing to be afraid of, child,” he said. “You have served me faithfully for many years. I now shall release you with treasures and properties that will make you a very rich woman. I have no sinister motivations. All this document says is that upon cooking the last soul, you shall be released from my guardianship.”
The Devil drew closer, but as he did so, Amabel noticed a familiar scent which she thought she had long forgotten: the stench of rotting flesh.
“Whose soul do you have with you?” she asked.
“None of your concern, dear Amabel,” he replied. “Affix your thumbprint on the contract. You will store one last soul in my cellar before going away to enjoy your wealth and freedom.”
“May I see the soul which you have brought?”
“You will, once you sign the contract.”
“But what if I do not?”
The Devil, who had not expected Amabel to be so headstrong, bared his teeth and asked his charge to sign the contract. But Amabel was a clever young woman. From the markings she had made on the wall she knew her eighteenth birthday was only a few hours away. The widow, as much as she wanted the magic copper chest, could not sell her daughter’s soul, for it belonged to Amabel alone. Since Amabel was, at the time, too young to agree to a contract, the Devil had asked for the little girl’s guardianship instead. In a few hours, however, she would be free to leave, for she had no need for a guardian.
“I do not know what it is that you truly want from me,” Amabel said. “But I shall not agree until I see the soul you have in your pouch.”
Sensing he had very little time left, the Devil added more wealth and privileges to the document, but Amabel was unmoved. Angry, the Devil yelled and stomped his feet. As he did so, the leather pouch became loose from his waist and fell on the floor. A soul crawled out from the opening.
“Mama,” Amabel gasped.
Before the Devil could do anything, Amabel threw her mother’s soul into the kitchen fire, the contract still pinned to the widow’s back. The soul burned with a loud pop, and with the written agreement burned to ash, the widow’s soul became free from the Devil’s grip and flew into the night sky.
“What have you done?” the Devil cried. “What have you done?”
Amabel ran from the kitchen and fled to the cellar with the Devil close on her heels. When she reached the cellar, she slammed the door and bolted it with heavy iron. Using the embers from the fireplace, Amabel lit a fire with the Devil pounding on the door to be let in. Just when she thought the door could not hold the Devil back any longer, the flames roared to life. She fed the fire more and more until it had spread through the cellar, consuming everything within.
By dawn, the lair had burned to the ground. Everything was destroyed, including the Devil who was reduced to a scorch mark on the stone floor. But in the corner of what used to be the cellar lay the naked body of a small little girl, untouched by the flames.
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