On a humid summer day in Georgia all you can hear is the sound of an old wooden rocking chair rocking back and forth, back and forth. The chair sits on a porch of an old wooden house. In it sits a man whose age can only be matched by the house he sits in front of. He looks out onto a dirt road that leads to an old plantation house. The man does not look pleased.
The road he over looks is one of the few that is still unpaved. The road does not get much use because the owner of the plantation house does not get many visitors. The house is owned by one of the only people in this small town that is managing to prosper in today’s economy. No one knows how he manages and few question it.
This day started off no different from any other. The old man, Mr. Williams, got up, got dressed, ate, and went to his post. Most days nothing happened. Today was not most days. A car drove down the little street that only had one destination, the old plantation house. A beat up pick-up covered in as much dirt as road it drove on. The sound of the car’s engine startled Williams, it had been a while. Since his retirement Williams saw this as his sole purpose in life. Eric had his window rolled down and he heard the man say something.
“Don’t,” he uttered only one word. He wasn’t pleading, it was no longer out of desperation, he had been at it for so long. He knew what the man was getting himself into. Nearly fifty years earlier Williams’ brother-in-law had made the same decision as this man would and it had disastrous results.
The car drove on. Behind the wheel was stocky, middle aged man. He was sweating and not only because of the heat. When he reached his destination he became even more overwhelmed. The house was massive and covered with ivy. The yard had been overrun by shrubbery; the owner of the house clearly had other priorities. When he pulled up to the house the gates opened automatically startling the man. Once he was through the gates he parked his car and got out stumbling to get on his feet. The walk to the door took days it seemed and when he finally reached it it opened and in the doorway stood a tall, lean man with a foreboding grin across his face and greasy black hair. He wore a tailor made pin stripped suit and shoes that surely cost more than the other man’s car.
“Come in,” he said. A phrase commonly associated with warm hospitality, but from his mouth it was an order. The stocky man said nothing and did as he was told. Once inside the man began to question coming. Did he need the money that badly? The answer to that question was no. Eric Thompson didn’t need anything.
It was just as hot inside the house as it was outside, a man as rich as this could have surely afforded air conditioning. They walked through the house down a long hallway until they reached a massive wooden door that opened to a large office where the tall man sat down at his desk. This was the only chair in the room leaving Eric to stand awkwardly in front of the desk. He faced a wall that was covered in hooks each holding a different necktie.
“You want something from me,” said the man, Damon Brown, who was sitting at the desk.
“Yes… sir.”
“You know nothing in life comes for free, don’t you?”
“Yes sir, do I need to sign any forms?”
“No, I just need your word.”
“You have my word, and my soul.”
“You’ll have your money by the end of the week.”
“Thank you.”
They shook hands and that was that. Even Eric didn’t think it would be that easy. He got in his car and drove home where his wife was waiting for him in the kitchen, with dinner on the table. She had a black eye and a split lip, both partially covered by make-up.
“So, how did it go?” she said meekly.
“I took care of it like I take care of everything,” he said harshly.
“When do we get the money?”
“I get the money within the week.”
The week went on and that Friday evening the doorbell rang. Emily Williams opened the door, but no one was there. She looked in the mailbox and found a check for $100,000. The sight of it nearly knocked her off her feet. She went inside and walked into the living room where her husband was sitting. He looked up and saw the check in her hands and jumped to her feet. He snatched the check out her hands, looked at it, and grinned.
“I’ll take this to the bank first thing in the morning,” he said sounding thrilled.
Emily had a new bruise on her face because Thursday’s dinner was not up to Eric’s standards. They went to bed and the next morning Eric woke up with no one lying next to him. This did not alarm him, in fact it usually meant that Emily was already in the kitchen making him breakfast. He went downstairs to the kitchen expecting to sit down to a nice meal, but the kitchen was empty. He called for Emily, but there was no reply. After checking every room in the house and seeing that the car was still in the drive way he began to worry. He ran to his office and opened up the safe where he had put the check. It was gone.
She left no note or explanation. She was gone. He told himself that she would come back, she was afraid of him, of course she would come back and when she did he would make that bruise on her face look like a paper cut.
She never came back.
The years went on and Eric Williams grew old. Over the years he had tried multiple times to get more money from the Devil, Damon Brown, pleading that he didn’t get to spend a penny of the first payment, but he received the same reply each time.
“No.”
Forty years went by and it was Eric’s time. Late one evening there was a knock on the door and Eric was hesitant to answer. He didn’t have visitors and knew that this could only mean one thing. He opened the door and saw Damon hovering over him with a smile on his face, he hadn’t aged a day and wore the same pin stripped suit that he wore the day Eric met him. The old man broke down. He begged and pleaded with the Devil, but received no sympathy.
“I didn’t even get the money, my wife did! It’s her soul you want, not mine!”
“But it’s your necktie I’ll be hanging in my office.”
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