It all started innocently enough.

You mortgaged your soul for a

small amount of cash, just

enough to get you through. You

went to a local firm, one

you could trust. You had grown

up with the man behind the desk, you

had chosen different paths, your

path, of course, led you here,

handing over your dearest asset and

his landed him on the acceptable side of the

desk, on the receiving end of your

small collateral but still you thought

you could trust him. In his hand your

soul didn’t look like so very much,

but it’s the only one you have and it’s

quite important to you. A week

later you received a letter in the mail,

your loan had been sold to another

firm, you must mail the payment to

this address, a handy coupon book

was included to facilitate this. You

mailed the payment, you sighed over

the number of coupons in the book.

So many payments until your soul

was your own again. And it was

such a small amount of money! A month

or so later, another letter, another firm.

This would happen endlessly, Your

soul was passed off like a sad whore from

john to john. You grew confused, you missed

a payment. You could hear the

evil laugh in your ear, could

see him lurking in the shadows.

You said Oh hell, have we made

it all the way to you? He said

of course, there is no one else who

covets souls the way I do.

He said And, by the way, should you

be in need of a bit more cash,

I would be happy to accommodate

you. You said Oh no, I am not falling

for your tricks. At first you said that.

After awhile you said Well maybe just

a little bit.

by Cher Bibler