On this day, years ago, I rode my way into this town. On this day years ago, I had an encounter with a rich man I’d never met before, and yet I felt I knew him better than my own mother.  

This story is one which I have told many times before, in fact, I'm sure many of you have heard it before, but for those of you who are yet to hear, this is the tale of how I beat the Devil. 

It had been years on the road at that point, seeking the long road the Lord had set me on. I had been through the deserts of Mexico, with not a drop of water to end my seemingly endless thirst. My first relief came after I crossed Louisiana Territory, when I came to the Mississippi. Along that river was where I found this town. A woman by the name of Mary first welcomed me and taught me their ways, but soon I too learned of their problems. God was not the only thing they were missing in this town. 

I tried to help them in any way I could. There was an old house they had on the outskirts of the town, the old man that had lived in it before died without an heir, and no man would dare claim another's property, so they gave it to me. That house is now this very church. The house had been in good condition when I came into its ownership, an old log cabin made with oak logs the old man had felled himself. A floor of planks that the man had himself cut and lain, though now some needed replacement. There was an old dining set in the kitchen, a small couch in the main room, and an old cot in need of repair. 

I had just finished fixing the old cot to lay down for the night when Mary knocked on my door. She came hurriedly. She said she had forgotten one thing, and she came to warn me as soon as she could, of the greatest danger in this town. She told me on the outskirts of town, opposite that of my new residence, there was a man, a wealthy man who lived in a large house deep in the woods. Turned out to be that that man was the one who governed this town, a ruthless man who showed no mercy for his people, taking whatever he may please, even if it be another man’s life, just to claim to himself what was owed.  

Mary told me of the things he’d taken from her family in their debt, first it had been a few of their cattle, no big deal, only paying their due. But soon things escalated, and in the next month they lost every one of their cattle, they had no wealth anymore aside from what her husband could provide in labor. Mary and her family lived off charity for several months until the man returned, this time she lost her Huband. Widowed, impoverished, and broken-hearted, Mary had nothing left but anger. I later found out that the first time she had smiled was the day I had arrived, all because she believed I could end her suffering. I thanked Mary for her warning, giving my condolences for her losses. 

As it would turn out, that night I arrived, was the first night I would hear of his coming. For the first time in more than half a year, he took a life with him.

I awoke at 23:00 that night, only a few moments after I’d finally caught sleep, and despite being bleary eyed and still half asleep, I'll never forget what I saw that night. One man, a dominating shadow over the town. A house fire danced in his eyes. He delighted in his actions; I was sure of it. I ran out of my home, praying silently as I made it to town. 

I ran as fast as I could, but I was still too late

. I had just made it to the house as I saw the man turn and walk away. I saw something over his shoulder, perhaps a sack of flour or some other grain, no doubt a debt he would claim the right to. Just as I was about to run after the man the house shifted, threatening to collapse, stealing away my attention.  

In that moment I heard a woman crying out for her child. The woman was Mary and the child her own, stuck in the house. I was about to run into the house when a man grabbed my cloak, halting my movement. Just as he did, I watched the house fall, splinters and sparks flying out into the cold, dark, night. Not a soul made a sound has we watch the fire burn itself out, a helpless life lost under it all. 

That dreadful night all sleep evaded me, nothing but shame I felt for failing to help those who could not stand for themselves. In that night I went to the only place that could calm my mind, and the last place I wished to be.

The bar, or rather tavern, managed to be full of life, even after the events of that night, no one there had anything left care about. And what is there to care about when you're drunk anyway?  

I had always said I would never drink, but that night I had my first. All I hoped for was to forget the events from hours past, and to drown my anger at these people's indifference. 

Every night I’d be in that bar, every day I’d be in bed. As time passed more people showed up in the tavern, until one day a man showed up with a guitar on his back, hired to play here a few days a week. The first day, as he was setting up, I couldn’t help but stare. Something about the man, so familiar. He reminded me of my father who would play for me when I was younger. As he started to play, I was soon lost in his melody. 

“If you waste your time a talking, To the people who don't listen 

To the things that you are saying, Who do you thinks gonna hear? 

And if you should die explaining how, The things that they complain about 

Are things they could be changing, Who do you thinks gonna care? 

There were other lonely singers, In a world turned deaf and blind 

Who were crucified for what they tried to show 

And their voices have been scattered by the swirling winds of time 

‘Cause the truth remains that no one wants to know” 

His words fell harsh upon my ears, like he was singing straight to me. Ever since moving here the Church had been little more than my house, only a dozen or so people coming in on Sundays. All my words had fallen upon deaf ears. This song summed up my whole mission here. The longer I sat, the more I thought. I left the tavern that night, for the last time.

I woke that morning and knew what I must do. I came to this town to bring God to the faithless, but what they needed was help. Marry had told me where the man lived, and so I was going to find him. I strapped my gun to my hip and set off around 05:30 before the sun to meet the man. 

I stumbled through the thick overgrowth for near an hour before I saw it. A massive wood house, dark and looming, three stories tall with windows larger than some of the town's houses. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The house sat upon a plot of land, cleared of all trees, half a mile on all sides. I moved forward to a large door with ornate carvings, all depicting some form of hellish scene. At the top of the door sat a large humanoid figure upon a throne, horns, like that of a ram, ordained his head as his crown. 

I reached for the large steel rings upon the door to knock, but instead found the door unlocked. When I stepped inside, I found the house was even larger than it appeared. Furniture fit for royalty covered much of the empty space alongside bookshelves. Enough books laid within this room for it to be the library of a university, and just as well decorated. However, the paintings upon the walls offset the mood greatly. Much like the door all depicted some hellish landscape or the eternally damned in torment. 

Beyond this grand room was a great hallway with little lighting. 

“Hello?” I called out into the void, “Is anybody around?” 

I continued on my journey through the house when I found a smaller room, about the size of any in my own house. When I stepped inside, I saw it was a cozy little place. Opposite the door sat a fireplace, two large chairs facing it on either side. But just after stepping into the room I heard the door shut behind me, a voice all too charming accompanying the noise, “Come on in and sit down. Why don't we have a chat friend?” 

With no choice I walked over to one of the large plush chairs and took a seat. The voice walked out of the shadow and took a seat beside me. He was a larger man, a fair bit larger than me, but in the way that a smith would be, tall and lean with broad shoulders and an imposing stature. When he sat down, he snapped his fingers and immediately the fireplace was ablaze. The orange light illuminating his shadowed features and adding much needed depth to his short dark hair. 

“I was wondering when you would arrive.” he spoke 

“I’m here to bring justice for the people who you claim to rule. They have lost far too much property and life by your hand. You may either stop of your own will and leave this place with your life or my God will remove you by my hand.” I responded. 

“What God do you have that could give you enough strength to kill me?” he laughed, “You’ve seen what has happened to these people. Regardless however, you should at least be carrying a weapon before making threats.” 

I reached to my hip for my gun but only found air. I could have sworn I had brought it with me. I had never let it leave my side after I arrived. In fact, I remember feeling it when I opened the door to this forsaken place. What could have happened? Where could it have gone? 

“Are you all shaken up now, realizing that your feeble mind forgot to pick up your gun before trying to be a hero?” he belittled, utilizing my confusion. 

“I need only my God to beat you.” I snapped back. 

I was losing my composure. This man could kill me at any moment. My only defense has been completely lost, and I had no plans remaining. All I could do was hope to stall him and find some way to escape. 

“I must ask you one question first, mister preacher man” his booming voice breaking my thought, “Why do you wish to rid this town of me when I have done no wrong. I mean, sure, I may not be the best governor, but I have never harmed my people.” 

“You did. Mary told me that you killed her husband, she said you steal from all these people, and I saw you burn her house down.” I shot back. 

“I have done no such thing.” the hurt in his voice sounded real, “Can you even trust Marry? Do you really even know her? And has anyone else corroborated her tales?” 

“I can trust her just as much as she trusts me.” my confidence returned as I spoke, “And the others have spoken of you just the same.” 

“Then riddle me this stranger, why, if you truly trust her so much, did you burn her house?” He accused. 

“I- I did no such thing? It... It was you that burned her house, was it not?” I stammered, unable to recall the events as I spoke. 

“Has your weak memory failed you yet again? Have you forgotten what you have done?” His voice smooth and yet sharp, it was as though I could only hear every other word. 

Rapidly the memories of that night came crashing back to me. It had been I who burned her house, I who had killed her child. Everything had been me. Every murder. Every theft. Every fear of the people. I was all of it. I was him, on every night he came to the town.  

My head swirled and throbbed, his voice trapped in my mind, echoing like a howling wind. My vision was fading and coming back, and each time the room changed. The room grew or shrank. At some point the man disappeared, and just as mysteriously, returned. For what felt like hours I was plagued by this torturous state until the fire grew, expanding from its place, engulfing the room and me with it. The last thing I saw was a man in the fire, a man whom I knew dearly, a man whom I loved, all as a wave of peace washed over me.

I woke that morning in a cold sweat. I sat up just to see the sun out my window, slowly rising over the horizon. A peaceful calm seemed to have been set over the town, just as it had I, with only a few of the townsfolk up for work. The nightmare had seemed so real, but without a burn on my body and no explanation for the hallucinations I had only to assume it was the fiction of my own mind. 

I got up out of bed to set out for what I must. To truly confront the man, this time for real. I grabbed my gun from the bedside table, ensuring I could not forget it again, and started my journey toward the mansion.  

The path was the same as in my dream. The same trees and roots ran under my feet, the same rocks and moss that I slipped over. As I approached the clearing, I noticed something was off. I couldn’t see the top of the house through the trees, and the forest creatures grew quiet. When I stepped into the clearing, I saw what had happened. There was nothing but charred wood, shattered glass, and mangled metal. The whole house burned to the ground and all the nearby grass scorched and dead. What had once been a beautiful scene was now a small wasteland covered with ash. 

I had no way to prove what had happened there that night, but the house was gone and so was the governor. Now to this day I hear his voice echoing in my soul, but never again did he return. Never again did he haunt this town. And never again did I fear the Devil. For that night, I beat the Devil, but only with the help of the man in the fire. ❦