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“The Devil is a persistent demon,” the Widow said, “and came calling again for a soul. This time I gave the Devil my arm, because a soul is worth more than all the rest of a body.”

The boy cried out in a fierce voice, “Mama, you must tell me the next time this Devil comes, and I will protect you. I will not let him take your soul or anything else.”

a boy's fantasy

a boy's fantasy

The Widow laughed and hugged her son as best she could. “Oh, my dear, you must learn to see the Devil on your own. One day when you are old enough, you may look into your father's Mirror.”

Another five years passed.


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The Black Walnut Tree 8: GB0007