"Soul On Sale" by Verity

Story Summary: The narrator gives his soul to the devil, saying it is "more work than it is worth." (Scroll Down To Read)

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Nalini Jacob-Roussety ties simple questions to deeper philosophical frameworks! Listen to her discuss the poll question above. Comment in the discussion area at the end.

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I was waiting for the call at the telephone booth. I’d been waiting for fourteen or seventeen minutes and finally, I decided to leave. It was pointless. I only had a 20-dollar bill on me and no coins for the slot. Hard rain was coming, some type of storm already brewing in the sky. It was dark. The tops of trees were bending in the wind. I consulted the map I had—that’s all I had to be exact: a map, a twenty-dollar bill and a packet of gum in my pocket. And my soul: my soul on sale. I had circled on the map the spot where the crossroads were, though it would be crazy to go in that weather. I had to find a rest stop. On the map, there was a motel, a little while away and I wouldn’t even have to go off the route. I could have a good night’s sleep, eat, then get on the road again. After the crossroads, where I’d sell my soul, I’d walk on until I hit the highway, where I’d hitchhike to the nearest town, then take the train back. That sounded sensible to me. And it wasn’t like I was in a hurry—there weren’t any debt collectors chasing me.

I began walking and gathered my thoughts, leaving away the semantics. Dinner, sleep, breakfast, rest, walk, crossroads, soul-selling, walk, hitchhike, train. All in two days’ work, not a big deal. I hurried my step. A drizzle had begun. Soon, the rain would pour down mercilessly, as the weather forecast had warned. After a while, I saw the bright motel sign. My clothes were already wet. I walked inside. My hair stuck to my face. At the desk, the receptionist had dozed off, a celebrity gossip magazine open in her lap. I didn’t want to ring the bell and startle her, so I gently knocked on the desk until she woke. She rubbed her eyes sleepily.

“Hello,” she yawned.

“Hey,” I said. “I’m very sorry to wake you.”

“Don’t worry lovey,” she smiled, biting off her chipped nail polish. “How are you tonight? What brings you here?”

“I was given a soul and I wanna sell it back,” I told her.

“Let me see,” and she ruffled through the list of rooms, “Well, we do have vacancies, plenty of space. Single?”

“Yes, please.”

“Will you have room service?” She spat out the polish she’d bitten off.

“Don’t think so. I’m a little hungry, though.”

“You can eat what’s at the bar. The kitchen is closed—hey, I could fix you something.”

“That’s alright, thank you.”

“Is it mint condition, lovey?” She asked me. I thought about that.

“No, I don’t think so. Haven’t had it for very long, though. But it’s a little worn out.”

“Second-hand, then? Good, that’s fine, no worries...” She checked some boxes in the room let form. “Yeah,” I said. “Second-hand.”

“Do you have the receipt?” She asked me, resuming the biting of the nail polish.

“What?”

“The receipt.”

“Let me check, must be here somewhere,” I looked in my pockets but there was nothing there, no crumbled-up piece of paper. “Y’know what, I don’t think I have it on me,” I lifted my shirt and showed her my belly button. “Will this do?”

“Of course,” she said, “proof of purchase.” She handed me a room key. “Just walk straight through when you’ve eaten, and it’ll be on your left in the long corridor.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Goodnight lovey.”

I went to the bar first and got a plain cheese and ham sandwich for three bucks and ate it there, sat on a stool. I think I could’ve had a whole steak, but I was very tired and wanted to dry off and get it all over with. I said goodnight to the receptionist as I passed. She was snoring lightly. I found my room. The Devil waited for me on the hotel bed.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” I told him at once, somewhat embarrassed, “I was just a bit hungry.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I understand.” That was the first thing he told me: ‘Don’t worry, I understand.’ I felt very optimistic after that. Then he patted the covers next to him and we sat together on the single bed, with our legs touching a little.

“So,” he said to me patiently, “Why do you want to sell your soul? Aren’t you a little young?”

“I don’t want it anymore.”

“Why? What’s wrong with it? Is it torn? Is it sick? Did you fall as a kid and cut it in two?”

“No, I promise, haven’t done anything wrong. Anything big. I think it’s fine.”

“Okay, would you mind if I took a look?”

“I don’t know. How do you do that?”

“It’s not a big deal,” he said. “I’ll just see straight through you.”

“Alright, go ahead,” I said. He turned and looked for a few seconds. I didn’t feel anything.

“It’s fine,” he said, “just second-hand.”

“Phew.” I’d gotten concerned there for a moment.

“Okay, then. What do you want in return? Money? Fame? Power? Or maybe that old jewel—Immortality? You could have the world, a second chance or simply get rid of sentimentality.”

“Nothing, nothing. No, you can just have it. Just take it away.”

“Child,” he said, “do you wish to outsmart the Devil? I won’t be in your debt. I can give you a lawyer, and you’ll talk it out with him—devil’s advocate, if you will.”

“What?” I said, “A lawyer? God, no! No, I won’t talk to a lawyer. What kind of person do you think I am?” I furrowed my brows. Maybe the legends were right. Maybe he was trying to trick me.

“You don’t want to call in a favor, then? You’ll never come back asking for it, desperate and thin?”

“No, no, I didn’t mean it that way, sir.” I felt a bit silly, calling him ‘sir,’ but I didn’t know what else to call him. “Just take it off my hands. Been nothing but trouble so far, I don’t want it, and I don’t know how to get rid of it. I wish I could recycle or give it to somebody so they could have two, but I don’t know how, so I thought I could return it.” I explained myself as clearly as I could. He thought about this for a moment: not too long, not a whole minute, he generally did things pretty fast because he had probably done them a million times before.

“You want nothing in exchange?”

“No, just take it off my hands,” I repeated.

“You could have eternal life or any wish that’s on your mind.”

“I really don’t want it, sir. With all due respect, taking it is favor enough.”

“Okay.” The Devil snatched it from me and twirled it in his hand. “Okay,” he said again, “you’re without soul. I have it now.”

“Thank you,” I said, “I’m grateful.” He got up from the edge of the bed and smiled kindly at me. I felt the same, only my neck wasn’t so stiff anymore. He had turned to leave, but I stopped him.

“Excuse me, could I stay the night?” I asked. “I only have a twenty, though.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, “that’s the charge.”

I slept all night without difficulty. The sheets were clean and smelled like lavender. As I slept, the storm was raging outside, the hills all around were very tall and the clouds that came were deep and gray. But I was very free. What was it, I thought, the cost of the soul? Especially in this century—what was its use? Could you put it on a CV? Could you buy it out with coupons? A hassle to have it, and it was easy to sell, and it could even fetch a pretty penny if you were interested in that type of thing. I still didn’t know what its value was, and what its use was. I felt the same. My sleep, though, was untroubled. The late-night radio was talking about the weather forecast and a car accident, then played crosswords and cheap pop tunes. But I wasn’t tuned in. I was sleeping until mid-morning when I woke and stretched out lazily like a cat in the sun. I was well and felt very fine.

There was a light knock on the door, and a pretty girl walked in: she wasn’t the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen but she was very beautiful and had a trustworthy, round face that made me want to smile.

“Breakfast is served,” she said and gave me a plate of pancakes and biscuits and juice and a cup of coffee. “Breakfast in bed?” I asked her, somewhat surprised.

“Yes,” she said, “it’s such a beautiful day.”

“Thank you.” Then, she opened the windows. Streaks of sun came inside, and the fresh air after a night’s rain came into the room. We got to talking—we were roughly the same age. I asked her if she was home for the holidays, and she said no, but that she had brochures and wanted to leave. She sat on the edge of my bed, and I offered her some of the biscuits. She told me in between bites that she’d saved up enough money, and she wanted to go to Hollywood and make it big, and perhaps live around there, and then live in New York, study at a good university. She was worried about her CV and dreamt of being a rising star. She was worried if they were just small-town dreams and if she’d be wasting money and time, but she knew in her heart that she could make it big and reach the dream.