The Devil and the Purchase

On one fine, crisp autumn day, the Devil strolled about the narrow paths that ran adjacent to Schloss Johannesburg, an old castle settled next the Main River in the little town of Aschaffenburg, Germany.

He loved the way his boots hit the old-style cobblestones underneath, the autumn leaves radiating in sunlight as he poked around for something to do. This little town was special to him. It brought about memories of those far-away days when Europe was wonderfully ravaged by plague, war, famine, and greed – a time when he felt in top shape and at his best. Now, in the age where people find little time to wonder if he was real or not, the Devil had become bored and sluggish. He gained a few pounds (he would never admit that it was more) since the World Wars, and even began to think of retirement. However, he could never scratch the itch that kept him moving for the thousands of years he had spent roaming the earth. It was here, amongst the neatly cut grass and fading flower beds, that he found an a tired-looking man seated on an old stone bench, his head bent down and reading a worn leather book, quite small, and black in color. The Devil was curious, and sitting down next to the person, let his arm stretch across the back of the bench.

“Guten Tag,” the Devil said, exhibiting a fine pronunciation of German, “It is such a beautiful afternoon. The leaves have done their best this year and have now decided to make their way down to the warmth of the earth below.” He smiled, thinking of home.

The man raised his head and looked across the short expanse of the park towards the slow river ahead, crossing his legs and placing the little black book on his lap.

“I guess so,” he replied in a slow, melancholy way that was usually unattractive to others – but not for the Devil.

“How do you mean, ‘I guess so’?” The Devil lightly tapped the man on the shoulder, a playful pat a grandfather would give to a schoolboy. The man shrugged.

“You seem well-off,” he said, pointing at the Devil’s sharp suit, fine hat, and long coat, “but it’s hard times for the lot of us. The factory outside town is shut down now. They say they don’t need dockhands or warehouse workers. They say they have machines that do all the work now. Marx was right after all.” He waved his little black book in the air, as if demonstrating to the Devil that Marx was there with them in the park, his essence captured in the few pages left.

“What do you have there?”

The man sighed, a long breathy release. “Bills. Notes to creditors, old friends calling for pay-up, no longer friends anymore, but bankers and merchants crowding the front door, stripping me of all that I have, save this worn coat and this little black book.” He waved the book again, his hand twitching the few pages. “This was my grandfather’s, you know.”

The Devil knew but went along: “Your grandfather was an accountant perhaps?”

“Oh no!” the man said sharply and turned to face the Devil. “My grandfather was one of the richest men in this town, living up the hill past Wurzburger Strasse! He was a stickler for wealth and tangible fortune, and he left nothing when he passed some time ago.” The man’s face screwed up with anger, his brow turning inward into a mean scowl. “He traded stocks, made acquisitions, reselling to the highest bidder, collected antiques from estate sales and sold at open-markets. Why, he even preyed upon those who’s doctors gave them a final verdict and was selling their livelihood and memories before they were even dead! I curse the day my poor father named me after him!” And with that last outburst, the man sprang up and walked towards the river, shaking and gripping the little black book. The Devil smoothly got up and followed this man who hated his grandfather.

“Left you nothing. What a shame! What did you do?”

The man looked at his black book and opened it, showing the Devil the few pages and a vacancy of what was left of the remaining pieces of paper. “I found this in his townhome next to the city park. It was in a dresser drawer, filled with numbers and drawings resembling codes of sorts in which I attempted to decipher. When I failed with one page, I ripped it out in disgust and tried the next one. This is what’s left. I had guessed it to be some map to find a secret place he kept his treasure. Yes, I know,” he chuckled, a hollow sound coming from his throat, “child’s play, but I had no choice. My family is poor. Now, I have lost my job at the docks and we have nothing but this,” gesturing at the book. “You by chance want the shreds of what’s left for a penny or so?”

The Devil smiled, “You have poured your soul into it, I see,” and paused.

The man looked longingly at the faded book, remembering the times he spent late at night at his desk, pouring through numbers and figures, maps of the town, and history books from the library. He was soul-bent to find whatever his grandfather left. Yes, he had poured his soul into it, and all that the book delivered was a broken home and a failed life.

“Yes, I have,” he murmured as the Devil moved closer, placing a hand on his shoulders and guiding him towards the river.

“I have a proposal for you, for I wish to help the best way I can.” He turned the man towards him and stared intently into his eyes. “I will purchase your book for twenty-thousand. It is that simple. Twenty thousand for your tattered book, that book you have poured your soul into. I am able to make the transaction right now. As I said,” a smile creeping over the Devil’s face, “I love to help.”

The man gazed up at the Devil, unsure of what he had just heard. Was this strange man willing to pay such a large sum for such a worthless little object? Did his luck just turn for the better, for his family, a future? Yes! This could be the first step to his own fortune! Maybe this was the way his grandfather acquired all that he had. A loan without having to pay back! The man’s heart began to skip, his face began to smile wide and eager, and he began to jump and exclaim, “Yes! Yes!” Oh, the things he could do with twenty thousand! He could purchase real estate and rent it out for twice as much! He could buy a house in the hills and a townhome in the park! He could finally have it all!

“Yes! Yes!”

On one fine, crisp autumn day, the Devil strolled along the narrow paths that ran adjacent to the Schloss Johannesburg, an old castle settled next the Main River in the little town of Aschaffenburg, Germany. He loved the way his boots hit the old-style cobblestones underneath, the autumn leaves radiating in sunlight. This little town was special to him. It brought about a memory of just the other day, when he purchased a poor man’s soul for as little as twenty thousand - pennies in his pocket. Afterall, he thought, the modern world was in a rage for currency and capital – why not capitalize on it? He hummed a little tune and poked about for another soul to purchase.