A Faustian Tale

This was to write a Faustian tale. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, it means the basic stereotypical stories over time about one very distinctive character who "sells their soul" to the devil for one reason or another. The basic requirements are that the main character must be characteristic, with distinctive traits, he must meet and "sell his soul" to the devil figure. And finally the main character must learn their lesson and suffer some sort of consequences. Definitely not my favorite writing form, but it was an interesting learning experience I suppose.

In a crowded neighborhood full of cookie cutter houses in uniformly dark colors, where the weather was always blustery stood many a towering and well-kept house. At the edge of the town however, stood a dilapidated house that didn’t match the rest; despite the fact that it was unsightly and somewhat resented by the newer homeowners, the occupant of the house refused to give up her stronghold, having lived there longer than any of the rest. The homeowner was Elizabeth Anne Cruise, and she had lived in the house since before anyone could recall. Her legal address was still Ms. Cruise, for she had never married, but she kept a strange cat with an odd little twitch and had visits from her brother’s children now and then. The visits were paid by her two young nieces and older nephew of nine years. The three always trailed her into town like ducklings when they came, and so they did on Friday morning when the woman, her nieces, and her nephew were seen at the local farmer’s market. The children oohed over the miscellaneous trinkets to be seen and made a beeline for the neighborhood fountain nearby. Elizabeth strolled along, eying the booths, while also keeping watch on her brother’s angelic children. She truly was fond of the children, even if she was somewhat harsh and headstrong in relation to everyone else; and it was as she continued her slow pace that she came upon a very strange looking booth indeed. Seated behind it was a woman with dark skin, wearing obviously expensive clothing, and selling an array of strange objects no one quite knew anything about. “My dear,” the woman addressed Elizabeth, surprising her. “Are these your children?” “I am looking after them,” Elizabeth replied, not one to stall with long and revealing conversations. “But they are not yours.” The strange woman stated this knowingly, as though the question had been rhetorical all along. “Do you not wish you had some of your own? The world has been cruel to you Elizabeth Anne; do you not deserve a pleasing husband, children of your own, and a beautiful home? Do you not deserve the beauty that others have as much as they do?” she shook her long beautiful hair, her intricately braided headband sliding down further into her thick hair. Elizabeth drew back from the booth as though burned, “How did you know my name?” The question was met by a nonchalant shrug, in which looked across at her subject of interest. “You know, you could have all of the things you desire so strongly. You could be young and beautiful, have a husband and children, you could have all of the wealth and riches of a queen.” Elizabeth nodded and smiled a bit, getting the feeling that this woman was quite mentally ill. She had already worked it out in her head, the woman must’ve heard the children call her by name when she arrived, and she must have been guessing at the rest. She turned from the booth now, and the woman called after her, “I know someone who could help you, I’ll be here next Friday if you change your mind, dear.” Elizabeth was unsettled by the woman, and so she gathered the children and returned home without anything from the market at all. Later that week, her brother and his wife came to collect the children, and she was left behind in her old house again. Even though Elizabeth had dismissed it strongly at the time, the woman had been right in her assumptions. Elizabeth really had many losses and felt the world had been unfair to her. It was this series of events, and the fact that she came to be alone in the house for several days beforehand that led Elizabeth to make her way back to the farmer’s market on Friday once again. It won’t be silly, she reasoned; if the woman was there she would speak to her – if not she could assume she had been crazy. But the woman was there when Elizabeth arrived, and lounging as nonchalantly as ever behind her booth, her beauty again striking Elizabeth. “Ah,” said the woman in her knowing way. “You’ve returned, Elizabeth Anne. You know I would like you to meet my father, for I think you may find he could grant your wishes.” The farmer’s market disappeared as the woman took Elizabeth’s hand, and she saw around her a barren wasteland where no life was sustained, and no hope seemed to glow. The woman was here with her, still holding her hand, and before them was a tall and mighty muscled man. He was positively angelic, and his smile charmed Elizabeth deeply. Behind the man stood many figures clad in shackles, held to one another and looking sickly and sinister. Both the man and the woman ignored these, having only eyes for Elizabeth. “My father,” introduced the woman. “Hello my Sarah, and Elizabeth Anne,” the man welcomed pleasantly. “I gather that you would like to make a deal?” “Yes,” sighed Elizabeth, taken by his wonderful presence. The man smiled at her, “Very good.” The man promised her all of her heart’s desires in exchange for a later favor. Elizabeth agreed; she and the man shook hands as Sarah stood nearby dazzlingly. Immediately she reappeared in the farmer’s market she had been in before. Sarah was behind her booth, smiling at her. Elizabeth looked down at her hands, and they were young and smooth, her clothes were expensive looking, and clutching at her leg was a five year old girl, with rich, smooth hair and a chubby face. “Mommy,” the beautiful girl addressed her, looking into her eyes, “Can I play in the fountain?” Elizabeth reached down and patted the girl on the back gently and unbelievingly, “Of course dear.” Elizabeth’s life had been transformed. She had a wonderful house, and a handsome, wealthy husband to accompany her beautiful daughter and her own youth. After three years, Elizabeth had become delighted with her life, her, she was happily married and her daughter had grown to be eight years old and now had a younger brother. They continued to live a privileged life until one day there was a knock at the door. The angelic man was on her doorstep, and Elizabeth knew him immediately. “I have come to collect, Elizabeth Anne. Your favor is due.” She frowned, taking the man into another room before she asked, “What is your favor?” He smiled again, “Here is your favor, do you remember Sarah? She had grown tired of caring for her post as my recruiter.” “Recruiter?” questioned Elizabeth. “Oh, yes,” the man began to show her images of the poor, the destitute, those in the world who lacked much. “Who are these people?” Elizabeth asked, distressed. “They are those you have stolen from,” the man replied calmly. “All that you have seen are those that you have taken your wealth and good fortune from, Elizabeth.” Elizabeth was horrified. She looked on her children, and glanced in a nearby mirror at her unnatural youth. “No!” she exclaimed, “I didn’t know!” the images of the unfortunate people flashed through her mind. “Do not be so distressed,” the man said to her, “For you may keep all that you have gained, if only you draw for me another to draw power from as I have from you. My appetite for wrong has grown, and I need more to draw from.” Elizabeth cast a pained glance on her fortunate life, thinking of the one she had had before, and then she looked at the man before her. “Who are you?” she questioned. “I go by many names,” the man smiled gently at her. Elizabeth remembered the pain of the people she had seen, the hopelessness. “You’re the Devil, aren’t you?” “Indeed,” replied the man, seeming disappointed at the severity with which she said his name, “That is one of them.” “Sir, I cannot agree,” Elizabeth mumbled, looking at the floor. “I can no longer bring these people to pain.” The Devil seemed hurt at her implications, “My dear,” he told her. “You realize this is giving up all you have here? Your life will return to the way it was, you will be older, poorer, and without a family.” “I do.” The woman replied, weeping. At this, the man became angry. He silently and roughly took her by the hand and she found herself back at the farmer’s market. Sarah was there for a brief moment; and she glared menacingly at Elizabeth. And then she was alone. She was three years older, with nothing to show for it, but no one else would ever know that. She glanced around her forlornly and started for her dilapidated old home. She vowed beneath her breath never to make a deal with the Devil again.