Talking with the devil But he doesn’t care that much He likes to see my face Its like his midday brunch so im talking to the devil

Talking with the devil cause he asked will you please he begged me on his knees so im talking to the devil

talking to the devil so he grants me all my wishes i chose him from all the fishes so im talking to the devil

Talking to the Devil So i can get my way then go about my day so im talking to the devil

Talking to the devil Cause he loves me so he doesn’t know it though so im talking to the devil

Talking to the devil ask him if he loves me Says maybe so i listen so im talking to the devil

Talking to the devil ask him if he would oblige he’d do anything for his bride so im talking to the devil

Talking to the devil Wonder does he do Hes says he does so i do too so im talking to the devil

Talking to the devil Asked for way to much But he loves me just as such so im talking to the devil

Talking to the devil but it didnt end as planned and my dreams got slammed so im not talking to the devil

Talking to the devil want him to want me back they tell me no but im talking to the devil

Talking to the devil cause he is like my drug and i am his little bug so i am talking to the devil

I can’t remember the first time she spoke to me, only that she hasn’t stopped speaking since. It’s a strange relationship I have with her. At times I can beg for her to be there, and in others plead for her to leave.

She appears all the time, wherever I am. She’s an incredible listener, always willing to offer advice. In fact lately, her advice has been more insistent. It’s become, I don’t want to say commanding but.. she’ll appear sometimes when I haven’t asked her to, ‘suggest’ that I do things I would never normally do. I only wanted some help at first, some guidance here and there, but I find myself reliant on her now. Every decision I make is with her in mind, because I know that if i dont, she’ll be furious with me.

I thought she was so alluring at first, so beautiful. She helped so much, she helped me achieve so much, things I never could have without her help. But now, now I’m not sure who I even am anymore.

I began to withdraw myself, she suggested I should cut off my friends, and that my family were poison for me. They were stopping me from reaching my full potential, she’d said.

I’m not certain how it even began, oh wait, no. I think I do remember the first day I met her. The first time I spoke with the devil.

I wanted to lose a few pounds.

Have you ever known a person that you hated with all your heart? The pure sight of them causing you to have violent fantasies, their voice leaving you annoyed, even their smell being nauseating to you?  To Elle, almost everyone is like this. She can tolerate only a few chosen people. She had to drop out of school, her parents needing to move to the countryside so she wouldn’t have to encounter people when going out. They homeschooled her as best as they were capable of, but since even written communication can cause Elle to tremble with rage there weren’t many jobs she could do when she would be older.  In the village near Elle‘s house, rumors started to spread relatively fast. The few times people of the village had seen her, she broke out screaming and cursing at them, not yet at an age where she could keep it together. They called her the daemon child, some devil. Why else would a child react with such rage to people just existing? The children in the village drew pictures of Elle and would for dares knock on her door or throw stones at her window.  Of course, Elle‘s parents tried to go to therapy with her, but they never managed to find a therapist she could be in the room with for long enough and none of the experts knew what to do.

So Elle lived most of her life in isolation, only having contact with her parents. Until they died and she was completely alone. She did manage to get a job with next to no human contact and the modern world helped her being able to live a more or less normal life, keeping her out of any trouble. The rumors were still there, but with time and Elle never interacting with anyone, no one seemed to remember why they called the woman living alone in the woods the ‚devil woman‘. Until I came along. My name is Samantha, everyone calls me Sam, and I am a journalist. I write a blog about curious people and bring the true story behind nasty rumors to light. You would be surprised how many awful rumors start from small innocent behaviors. When I heard the story of the devil woman in the woods, I had to get to know her. Find out what was behind that name.

It was a stormy and rainy fall day when I arrived in the village.   My first impression of the village was quite neutral. I expected some mystery to surround it, some kind of surreal feeling. But in fact, it just was like any other village. No houses that seemed too perfect, no weird children staring at me from the corner of the street, nothing in the least weird. I was almost a bit disappointed. A family was so kind and let me stay in one of their spare rooms since the village had no hotel or other guest rooms. But when I reached out in one of the community apps if someone would let me stay I did get some offers. I had no issues finding the house based on the description I got. It was a cute one-family house with a well-kept front yard, some pretty flowers, and a lawn that needed cutting maybe a week ago. The house itself had a cream color and some wood accents like the door and window frames were painted dark brown.  I rang the doorbell and after some seconds a woman opened the door. ‚You must be Samantha! Come in, come in. Welcome!‘ she greeted me.  I smiled and stepped in, only managing to say ‚Hello‘ before the woman shouted for the other inhabitants of the house to come and greet me. That is how I met Heather, her husband William, and her two teenage sons Geoge and Greg. Bill Junior, her eldest son, was out, going to college. It was his room I would be staying in. They were a lovely and completely normal family and welcomed me warmly.  Heather insisted that I’d have a cup of tea with her before she would let me „go out and explore“ as she called it. We were sitting at the kitchen table, each of us having a cup of warm tea in our hands. ‚So you said you are a journalist researching a story here?‘ Heather started, trying to make it sound casual. But I could clearly see her curiosity. ‚Yes. I am researching urban legends. Their origins, how they impact the people living with it, and so on.‘ ‚Urban legends? I was wondering what a journalist would be researching in this boring village. Is there such a thing as an urban legend here? Maybe among the kids?‘ She seemed to really not be able to think of something I might be interested in. ‚I am here to meet the devil woman.‘ Heather didn’t answer right away. She didn’t seem to know how to react. But when she started speaking again all the easygoing casualness was gone. ‚The devil girl is not an urban legend. She is an awful human being. You should stay away from her.‘ Devil girl. She must have known her as a child.  ‚If that is the case then I will find it out.‘ I smiled, giving her my most girlish innocent smile. I might not be a child anymore, but pretending to be naive made people usually talk more. ‚You must have been confused by the name. I guess Devil Woman does sound like an urban legend. But that is just a name we gave her. She acts crazy. Screams and curses at anyone getting too close to her. Despises others, no matter what. We used to gossip about it. Surely only the devil would behave like this, we said. That is how she got that name. Just some children talking and trying to explain something they don’t understand. But the reality is, that she is just a bad person is all.‘ I nodded along and took a sip of my tea that had finally reached a nice drinking temperature. ‚I see. Maybe this story will be very short then. But still, I’ll talk to some more people, maybe there is more to it than meets the eye at first sight.‘ My experience told me, that insisting on the relevance of my investigation usually was seen in a bad way. Talking it down helped me stay in favor and might lead to more information being exposed. But this time around Heather instead switched the topic somewhat and we ended up doing some small talk instead.

After tea, I was allowed to go out. That makes it sound like Heather was controlling me, which wasn’t the case. She just had this kind of air around her that reminded me of my mum and made me feel a bit like a child in a nostalgic way. My first destination was the house of the devil woman. I had contacted her before, and she had told me about her general dislike of people. I had to be very persistent but finally, she had agreed to try and meet me, under the condition that I would leave as soon as she would tell me to do so, even if this would be the first thing she would tell me. All I was hoping for was, that she wouldn’t tell me to leave immediately. I had also done some research and talked to psychologists and psychotherapists in preparation. None of them had ever heard of a case where someone would naturally hate almost everyone, but none of them did exclude the possibility.  Arriving at the little house a bit outside of the village I had a look around before knocking at the door. I was able to see a little vegetable garden and the house looked well maintained with a relatively fresh coat of white paint making the dark brown wood stand out beautifully. I noticed Elle looked out behind a curtain but pretended not to have seen it. Instead, I stepped up to the door and knocked. Three short knocks followed by a pause of 2 seconds and then another knock. She told me to use this code so she would know who I was.  In the corner of my eye, I saw her figure disappear from the window, and shortly after the door opened a little. There must be a door chain preventing it from opening further. A green eye looked through the crack and a thin high voice asked ‚Sam?‘ ‚Yes. I am Sam. Nice to meet you!‘ The door closed in front of me without any other reply. She wrote that this might happen and I tried not to be disappointed. I stood there, unsure of what to do next, about to turn around when I could hear the door chain being removed and the door opened again, this time fully. In front of me, I saw a small woman, she barely reached up to my nose and I am not especially tall. She was very slender, her limbs looking stick-like even through the baggy hoodie and pants she wore. Her skin was pale as if it hadn’t seen the sun in quite some time. The beany she wore only covered a small part of her almost ankle-long dirt blond hair. Only her emerald green eyes didn’t match her muddied color palette. She stepped out of the door, almost pushing me away if I had not made room for her, and closed the door before I could get a good look inside. ‚Let’s go for a walk.‘ she said and it sounded like a command. She started to walk away without waiting for a reply. I hurried to walk beside her, though she had a surprisingly fast pace and I seemed to always stay one step behind. I was fascinated by her long hair flowing in the air due to the fast movement. It must be really thin to be flying like this. I didn’t dare start the conversation, wanting to let her take the lead, afraid to scare her if I am pushing in any way. We walked in silence for about 5 minutes, now in the middle of the forest, when she finally slowed down a bit and started to say in her quiet thin voice ‚Why did you want to meet me?‘ ‚I have a blog where I…‘ ‚You already wrote me that. Why did you want to meet -me-?‘ I was taken aback. No one had ever asked me that before. Most of the people I interviewed were glad that someone was trying to tell the truth, fight the lies flying around. ‚Aren’t you tired of the rumors, the stories, the teasing from the children?‘ ‚I don’t really care. I dislike almost all of them anyway, why should I care what they think and say about me?‘ She stopped and turned around to look at me expectantly, her hair, flying to catch up with the motion, framing her, seemingly separating her from her surroundings. Just like she is separated from society. I didn’t know what to answer so I just went on with another question: ‚Many everyday things must be really hard for you when you can’t interact with others. What would you like others to do or understand so life would be easier for you?‘ ‚What?‘ she just replied. ‚What would help you?‘ Her eyes narrowed and she for the first time seemed to really look at me. She looked so small and childlike despite being a few years older than me. I wondered what she was thinking of me. Surely she wouldn’t have answered the door if she couldn’t at least tolerate me. I also wondered why she could tolerate me, but not many other people. Her having decided on whatever she seemed to have thought about brought me out of my thoughts. ‚Mostly I would love to just be left alone. Also…‘ she trailed off, seemingly unsure if she should continue.  I gave her the space, patiently waiting for her to continue. ‚You know, you are the first person in a while that I can tolerate. It is like I am allergic to people and I never found out why. But also I never wanted to be different, never wanted to be able to live among people. I am happy on my own. I don’t need you or anyone else to help me in any way. So really, what I need everyone to understand is that I am fine. Leave me alone and I am perfectly happy.‘ During her little speech, her voice slowly grew stronger. She seemed to grow and materialize, whereas before I realized now, she reminded me of a ghost. As a response, I just nodded and said ‚I see.‘ She smiled approvingly at my response, then turned and started walking again and I followed hoping that this was what she wanted me to do. Without any more prompting from my side, she started talking. Telling me about her childhood, her parents, the move to this house, the few times she went to school. I only followed and listened. Without realizing it, at some point, we were back at her house. We approached it and I had no idea of how long we walked or what time it was. I didn’t say more than 5 words the whole time, and I wasn’t sure Elle had heard those. I followed her up to her door. She opened it and for the first time since the confrontation she looked at me. ‚This was nice. I hope you got what you wanted. Goodbye. And thank you.‘ and with that, she closed the door in front of me, not giving me the chance to react. Her voice had gotten weaker again and her figure looked like a doll against the darkness that seemed to flood out of the door opening. I stood there, dumbfounded. After a while, I caught myself and walked back to the house where I had the room. Luckily Heather seemed to have gone out so I just got into the room of this teenage boy I would be sleeping in. 

In the following days, I did talk to some of the other villagers, but I more importantly visited Elle almost every day and we went on more walks and I got to know her more.

This has been not only the story of the time I went and talked to the devil woman. This has been the story of how I met my best friend for the first time.

Touching the cold screen, as if it was your body, Emoticons and chat rooms bring shivers down my spine. Your message - my salvation, but what is left to save?

Your words, honey on my tongue, balm on my soul when we virtually kiss, the little nothings become my universe. And then, without a warning, when you pour venom all over my world, bold statements become pleadings.

To idolize a promise, my mind adores deceiving this stupid heart of mine so reckless and absurd! Are you the same as yesterday, ‘cause I don’t know myself… It’s yours the faceless voice, seducing me into blindness?

Ghostwriter of my life, the screen is mute and lifeless. I was alone in this…the Devil is my lover… And I’m a broken wretch.

Why do you infest my thoughts and words? Why influence bad decisions and actions?

Why turn humanity against each other and make little boys cause pain? Why deploy humans as your evil toys to destroy the land. Why poison the earth with darkness and bad wills, bullets and blood spills.

Is hatred and tears part of your love story? Was that your childhood imprinted on your heart and tattooed on that brain of yours.

Weren’t you a young boy too, hiding from violence and afraid of destructors ? Or did they make you how you are today , turned from knowing true humanity, this human race need a positive new face not red painted across the fields nor bombs smoking across the atmosphere.

So long farewell to the world that you’ve made

What happens when they hate you too

Will you seek love then or are you waiting to be convinced that good will exist and it can start with you

I walk towards the bridge overlooking the vibrant and humming city below. This spot has become my place of comfort where I come to think and feel when things weigh heavy on me. As I approach, I find a strange man already in my spot, illuminated by the warm street lamp above and the moonlight glimmering in the night sky.

I stand next to him, placing my arms over the railing of the bridge. We stand in silence for several heartbeats until he glances over at me and asks in a deep voice dripping with amusement, “Are you here to make a deal with the devil?”

I snap my head towards him and bite back, “And why do you feel that I would need to make such a deal?”

“People seem to find me, one way or another, when they are in their most desperate need for a saviour,” he responds. I was shocked. Could he sense the turmoil and despair leeching out from me?

“They don’t seem to like it when the deepest, darkest facets of themselves are held up to them like a mirror,” he continues. “They don’t want to confront the parts of themselves that would make them run, fast in the opposite direction were they forced to confront it. And they despise it even more when they meet the person that will challenge them with the truths they avoid like the plague.”

Was there a point to this lecture I was forced to endure. The last thing I wanted tonight was to be stuck shouldering someone else’s problems when I was utterly destroyed by my own.

“It’s not easy,” I hear him say, “to see that same hate-filled expression that you wear, directed at me, on the face of every person I have the pleasure of speaking with.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe you’re the problem and an attitude adjustment would fix it right up?” I can’t help the sarcasm that spills out at this man’s self-loathing.

“See that’s where you’re wrong my dear Serafina. It’s not me that they can’t face, but the darkness and flaws within themselves.” I freeze at his mention of my name. How does he know who I am? My name isn’t so common that he could guess it by coincidence. His lips curve up into a devastatingly beautiful smile. “Oh yes, I know who you are, and I know what weighs on you this evening.”

This man really could have been the devil. The arrogance, the smugness and the horrifying yet undeniable charm. Was I really falling into his trap?

His smile falters, “It’s not meant to be a trap.”

“It’s a lonely cause, bestowing people with their truths. But there cannot be light without the darkness. If there is no bad, there is also no chance for the good. Love, for oneself and for others, stands no chance if we refuse to embrace both.”

Before I have a chance to process his words, he takes a long, strained breath and walks away, disappearing into the shadows. Then, I’m left on my own again staring out into my city, wondering where it all went wrong.

Dear fat man with the gift-filled sack,

please come and take these toys back.

please come with haste and don’t delay

and take these curs’d things away.

I wrote to you at 3am.

I’d stubbed my toe and dropped my pen.

I sent my letter straight to Santa,

but addressed it to ‘My good friend Satan’

the army men, they war all night

I cannot sleep for all their cries.

The rocking horse, my hand, it bit

and in my room it often

…. sits.

The dinosaurs control the floor

and hunt the teddies more and more

The bike you got I loved the most

is haunted by a Viking ghost

So, Satan, Santa, what’s-yer-name,

come get these things —— I’ve gone insane.

He entices me. Luring me in with sweet promises. Of course I know it is a lie. I must resist. The floor is collapsing from under my feet. It’s too hard to say no. To hard to resist when my every desire is waiting. Looking down there is a green whirlpool. Going down there means never coming up. It also means my every desire.

“ i don’t want to be here anymore “ I say to the girl in the mirror.

“ I know “ She replies.

I tear out two pieces of paper from my notebook. On one I write dear mom, on the other dear dad.

Dear mom, You were a good person. You did your best. You were enough. It wasn’t your fault. I was the one who wasn’t enough.

Dear dad, I love you. Take care of mom. Take out all the stuff from my room, and throw it away. It’ll hurt less if there’ll be less reminders of me lying around out home. Don’t do anything stupid. You were a great dad.

I pass the notes to her.

“ So, what do you think? “

She sighs.

“ Are you sure about this? It’s tough, but there are other solutions, you know… “

“ im sure. “

“ Estella- “

“ I said im sure. “ i snap.

“ okay then. “ A tear rolls down her face as I lay out my hand. A sharp cold blade falls into it. Then my vision goes dark.

Suddenly I see where I am. Its like I’ve woken up from a fever dream, I know how I got here, just not why or when. My wrists are wrapped in bloody gauze and I have no idea where the blade is. Im mad. Someone clearly ruined my attempt. Maybe the girl in the mirror. But I don’t know how she would’ve done that. I become more aware of my surroundings as I think about that. Behind me I hear the rushing and splashing of water, a river. I turn around and see a stream with a small bridge and a railing. I decide to go there.

The railing is slippery, it has started raining. I climb onto it. My cheeks are wet and hair sticks to my forehead. Finally I can get this over with. I let myself slip, but just before I fall I feel delicate, but firm hands surround my body, shielding it from the impact. I’m shocked, I checked that no one was there. Nobody could’ve saved me. My eyes shut closed, as I hit the rocky ground beneath the water, and it’s impact makes me fall unconscious.

I wake up to the sound of beeping. A nurse who is sitting beside me sighs when she sees me awake, as if all this time she’s been holding her breath.

“ Hey, sweetheart. How are you? You know, it was a miracle you came out of that fall alive. A guy was passing by and protected you from the impact. I never believed that bridge was safe but I remember seeing that they would add a railing to it on the news… “

“ What? What happened? “

“ you don’t remember? you fell off that bridge.. wait, tell me your name. It might be amnesia. Oh god.. now I’m gonna have to check with chief of trauma… “

She sounds worried when she says that. But all at once the memories come back to me. My wrists, gauze soaking with blood, the railing, me trying to end it, someone shielding me from the impact… and suddenly I’m furious.

“ No no, I remember now. I’m fine. “ I grit my teeth. I’m not fine. I should’ve been buried in my grave by now.

A guy walks in the room, his head bandaged and fresh cuts on his arms. He looks at me, in a weird way. Even through all the gauze covering his skull I can see locks of blonde hair coming through it, matched with ocean blue eyes.

“ that’s the man who save your life. Thank god he was passing by. “ the nurse says.

“ hey, how are you? I saw you trying to jump, or maybe you slipped off of the railing… Are you okay? “

“ No. why the heck would you do that? Couldn’t you just stay out of it, what’s you problem?! “

White hot rage burns through my temples leaving me shocked by myself. It had been so long since I’d felt any emotion. For the last years of my life I merely felt numb. Trading my feelings for emptiness so that I would never feel pain again. But that rage, it is a result of it. I don’t want to be in this world anymore. And the world would have to deal with it.

“ hey, that’s now way to talk to the guy who saved your life. “ he replies, clearly frustrated.

“ You didn’t save me. You killed me. It was all perfect till you came along. Get out. “

The nurse looks shocked by my reaction, as well as Arthur. They both leave my room, the nurse to get my labs back.

There’s a mirror in my room. I stare at the girl in it.

“ This is your fault, isn’t it? “

“ Estella, calm down. “

“ NO! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?! “

“ I know you don’t want to be here. But it’s clear the world wants you to. And I’m afraid the world is not going be the one to deal with it. You will be. “

I try picking up the syringe from the night table but it’s suddenly turns into a child’s toy. I try to smash the mirror so I can use the shards but it won’t break, even when I throw it on the wall. I see a towel near the end of the bed. Maybe I can strangle myself with it. I pick it up. It’s not long enough.

Tears stream by my face at this point.

I get on my knees, and ask, plead for an answer to god, the skies, whoever may be listening:

“ why can’t you just let me die in peace? “ I whisper, my voice cracking.

She feels like she’s in a cage Her skin the walls

Her voice loud and in pain Yet no one aids her call

She’s screaming and burning Reaching for help Yet no reaches out to her pitiful hell

She’s inside the walls and everyone can see Yet no one will help her

And that girl is me.