The knock on the door startled Marie. It was too late to be expecting visitors. She had just put her son, Ian to bed. Her husband seemed uncharacteristically distraught as of late. He was hunched over at the sitting area in the foyer with a glass of thirty-year-old scotch in one hand and his head in the other. Marie was a good wife, but she had yet to ask her husband what had been troubling him so much as of late. She was so busy running her charity. She knew Eric’s company dropped a couple of points in the stock market recently so she had assumed it was a money issue. To her a little bit of money was nothing to fret over. After all, they had plenty of it. They would be fine.
Marie tugged on the large heavy oak door only to reveal an ominous looking stranger standing behind it. He was so incredibly tall that he had to duck his massive head under the 10 ft. doorframe as he entered the room. His skin was pale; almost snow white. His dark eyes looked like two pieces of coal buried deep into the sunken sockets of his face. He wore a long black trench coat buttoned down from his neck all the way to just below his knees. The stranger turned his head to Marie’s husband and smiled a jagged toothy grin.
“Eric Wallace. I have come to collect my debt.”
It was at that moment Marie realized what was going on. The success of Eric’s start up, the big house in the hills, the fancy cars, the charity, the horrible, giant, inhuman looking man who had just entered their home- Eric had made a deal with the devil. She flung herself to the demon’s feet.
“Please! You can’t take his soul. There has to be another way.”
The stranger reached out his long bony finger and caressed her wet, tear stained cheeks.
“Oh my dear, you misunderstand. I’m not here for his soul. I’m here for yours.”