The Heart of Satan

 

Ever think of beating the Devil…Well he can be beaten but only by himself. Read below a short story about how he was beaten by himself at his own game by heaven. Had he won heaven would have been lost forever to humankind and our world quiet different from what it is today. The setting of the story is in mediveal times and concerns a poor woman and her girl child. It reflects on how their destinies are changed by the Devil for the better.

 

The Poor and the humiliated

The huge black and grey ornamented Gothic style heavy iron gates clanged shut with a deafening shattering sound of a ‘NO’ thus darkening the dreams of a bright education for her child forever. For the first time her proud shoulders stooped downwards confronting the gloomy dark clouds of dejection, apathy and remorse which seemed to cut her soul into two halves.

The heavily armed gatekeeper’s words rang aloud in her ears, “Shoo! Away from here you scumbags, filth of this earth and never return or else be damned,” and with it a formidable deadly spear pointed at them menacingly.

“Hey! What goes on there?” His captain of the guards shouted at him hearing the ruckus and his guard speak so in such foul language.

“Nothing sir, just some scum mother superior trashed out of the gates,” Replied the guardsman with a sneering laugh.

“Ah! Good for the convent I hope so. Lock up boy or you will have more filth coming in no sooner than you throw them out,” laughed back the captain of the guards, in a stiff reply. He knew very well about mother superiors aversion towards beggars. These were not the first and certainly won’t be the last.  It was of course followed by his thunderous roar of sadistic laughter, which had its desired effect in bringing out smiles on the faces of his heartless guardsmen but tears in the eyes of the two solitary figures who hugged each other still tighter. They feared the strong wind to tear them away from each other’s loving but reassuring grasp forever.

 The poor woman with her girl waif by her side expecting to light up their dismal and sad lives with the wonderful brightness and wellness of a Christian education just went haywire. The old dame tightened her thin shawl around her still thinner shoulders to keep the morning chill at bay. The gaping holes in her tattered robes were many but less as compared to her tormented and besieged heart. The cold always got you in the end as it did so now with them both shivering violently enough to crack their bones. The skies were heavy with lightening dark clouds whispering prospects of heavy rain or hail shortly to their ears. The thought of getting wet sent a shivering shudder down their small and frail frames just mere skeletons clad in dismal cloak of flesh. The waif clung tightly to her mother and moved closer hiding her shame and tear laden face in her mother’s frock lest the world made more mockery of her last remaining strings of Christian pride which she had always held on so intact with her devout mother who had no equal in this regard. They slowly started moving towards home believing in heaven to hold the clouds from doing their wet business until they reached their sparse shelter in town. The sweeping cold winds and the lightning struck dark clouds promising rain made them walk even faster. They somehow clogged their way through the town gates with gatekeepers looking the other away to avoid the sight of such vermin of human filth and made the sign of the cross to thank heaven in keeping their fates warmly fed and clad.

Once inside, the morning market crowd shrunk away and the gentry made the weirdest expressions of disgust at their site, some even clamped their noses and shut their eyes to keep both the smell and sight of their poorness away. The dogs in the streets barked at them or rather their misery which ever was more pitiable. Undeterred the two slowly trudged home with a comforting arm around each other. She thought what the world has come to for the poor being so vehemently shunned by man, the beast and the Church. She prayed to the almighty to have pity on their scraggy souls. The rag of a curtain fluttering in the cold wind in a small ally welcomed them home. The cabin looked in the shadows like a hungry mouth, which would swallow away from anything to everything that came its way. It was a wooden cabin or a box with a bed, a rocking chair and a stove nearing its end. The  old worn out chest lying on the cold stone floor which held the few precious but unworthy worldly belongings of the ladies lay open as if crying but empty of tears. The rain spattered on their cabin roof, promising another cold night and they both looked longingly towards the stove, which like their fates was silent and dark. Night passed as their days…mostly awake, hungry and shivering. They both wished for an early daybreak as they always headed to the docks or the market to scavenge for work or food. The solitary candle burned its way out cold in those solemn hours giving away its last bouts of paltry heat from which those poor beleaguered women thought about comforting heat. The woman never begged and they always said their prayers regularly with full confidence in God and heaven. They knew no matter what their fates decision, God still looked after them and they proudly braved their circumstances. They ate when they worked and went hungry when shunned away but always relentlessly prayed to god for his kind mercy on their miserable souls and not once for benediction of worldly pleasure or even for some hope of improvement in their fates.