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Devil Went Down: And Hell Came Running

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Sheri Webber

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“The Old Woman asked, "Here you are, dear Youth, you are looking at the Garden and do not know that it is an evil Garden. Here you are waiting for the Beautiful Woman and do not know that her beauty is destructive. You have been living in my room for two years and never before have you become so engrossed as you have today. Apparently your turn has come too. Go away from the window before it is too late, do not breathe the evil fragrance of these deceitful flowers and do not wait for the Beautiful Woman to appear below your window and enchant you. She will come, she will enchant you, and you will follow her against your will. Speaking thus, the Old Woman lit two candles on the table where some books were lying, banged the window shut and drew the curtain tightly across the window. The curtain rings scraped lightly along the bronze curtain rod, and the yellow linen of the curtain fluttered and once again lay motionless — and the room became cheerful, comfortable and peaceful. And it seemed that there was no longer any garden beyond the window, nor was there any sorcery in the world, and everything was simple, ordinary, and would remain so once and for all. ("The Poison Garden")”

“Youths should study,' grumbled the Old Woman, 'and not take the laws apart. And you, dear Youth, before you become acquainted with the Beautiful Woman, take a good look into her Garden through the window tomorrow morning, when everything is clearly and genuinely visible in the light of the sun. You will see that in the Garden there are no flowers which are familiar to anyone here, and only such flowers as none of us in the City know. Just think about this carefully, after all, there is something strange about it. The devil is cunning; is this not his creation for the damnation of people?' ("The Poison Garden")”

“So where were we?” “I was stepping back,” he says, “and you were chastising me for it.” I chuckle. “Ah yes. So, shall I take matters into my own hands, or do you have the proper tool for the job?” I kiss his palm and then glance down at the lump in his towel. “Well, miss.” His voice has a slight southern twang. “A skilled lawman knows how to choose the right tool for the job, and that—” He motions with his head, “—is not the one I plan to use right now. Sorry to disappoint.” “I hate it when you get cocky.”