Fame. Who doesn't want it? Maybe
some people prefer to stay out of the
limelight, but not me. I crave being
famous, seek it, fantasize about it
endlessly. I can't stop thinking about
it and all the power and worth it
would bring to my boring, terrible
life. The world would know me all
over. Fans would wait in line just for
a chance to see me or take my
picture. I would be in the
newspapers, online, twitter, all
media. Almost everyone in the world
would at least have heard my name.
The problem was, I had no talent
which could make me famous. I
can't sing, dance, write, play sports,
and I'm by no means beautiful or a
genius. And I didn't even want to be
famous for those things. To me,
even those talents seemed too
ordinary. There are thousands of
people with those abilities. No, I
wanted something even more.
Unfortunately, there just isn't much
demand for a plain, ordinary, 20-
something woman without a single
thing special about her. Brown hair,
pale skin, totally ordinary face. My
life was so completely miserable that
I never smiled, something my co-
workers felt the need to remind me
of constantly. Gee, thanks for
pointing that out. I had no idea I
never smiled. Perhaps if they could
step into my shoes they would stop
smiling, too. I am just like almost
every other woman my age, except
even the plainest of the plain had at
least one thing they were good at.
Not me. Ms. Average. So boring and
unremarkable. How could I ever even
dream of being anyone special? It
was ludicrous. And yet I couldn't
stop. All day, every day I thought
about having a better life. It was my
first thought in the morning and my
last thought at night. How could I
have been given such a desire, and
then, have no way of making it a
reality? It was cruelly unfair.
I became obsessed. Soon the
thoughts took over almost every
moment of my day. It began to drive
me crazy, just a little at first, then
more and more as my obsession
took hold. I knew I was losing it.
What to do? What would you do in
my place? I went to a psychiatrist,
he just wanted to talk about having
low self-esteem and being happy
with what I had. How dare he? Did
he not hear what was consuming my
days and nights? Did he not
understand? Be happy with what I
had. That advice was so ridiculous it
was infuriating. Oh, the rage building
inside me. You can't begin to
imagine. Such a desire and no way
to bring it to fruition. And
medication? Worthless. All it did was
make my brain foggy and sleepy.
How can I even begin to describe
this obsession? Imagine having to
think about oxygen, water, or food
every minute of your life. This
wasn't just a desire. It was a need. I
had to be famous or I would have to
end my life. I couldn't go on this
way. Something had to be done.
My mind began spiraling off into
unhealthy directions. Who or what
could help me with my insane need?
What could I possibly do? Try to
become a witch and cast a spell on
the whole world and make them see
me as something I really wasn't?
Ludicrous. Dumb to even consider it.
And yet...thinking about the occult
made me have another thought. A
terrible thought. Could I? Could I
follow through with my horrific, evil
plan? The more obsessed I became,
the more real the idea became. What
did I really want? What could I give
up in order to fulfill my deepest
need?
It was sick. A small part of me knew
that, but I couldn't get my mind off
my plan. I knew what had to be
done. I would do it and reap the
consequences later. Determined, I
went to the store and purchased a
ouija board. It was the best way I
could think of to accomplish what I
had to do. Alone in my small, cheap
apartment I turned out the lights and
set up a ring of candles. Lighting
them one by one, I felt a sense of
relief I hadn't felt in years. Finally, I
was taking action. Damn the
repercussions. This was the only
way, and it wasn't my fault I had
been driven to it. I sat in the center
of the candles with the ouija board.
I'd never used one before, having
heard that it was dangerous and
that one could never tell what evil
forces you might be inviting into
your life. But that was what I was
counting on. Evil forces to help me
carry out my plan.
I asked out loud, "Is there anyone or
anything here with me now?"
The planchette began to move
slowly. I knew that I wasn't moving
it. This task was too important to
fool around. Slowly, the planchette
spelled, I A M .
"Who are you?" I asked. Moving a
little faster now, it touched the
letters, T H E O N E Y O U W A N T.
"Can you help me?" I needed to
know for sure. The planchette spun
to "yes."
My palms were sweaty but I was
more than ready to see this through.
"Do you know what I want?" It
answered F A M E. I started to freak
out a bit. This was for real. But I
knew I could do this, I just had to be
specific. I needed to get exactly
what I was seeking or all of this was
worthless.
I took a deep breath and announced,
"You have to guarantee that I will be
one of the most famous women
ever. People will boast about seeing
me. Men will be grateful for the
chance to even gaze upon upon my
face for a few moments. I will be
known around the world for many
years to come and my fame will be
unparalleled. I don't care if I have to
move through time to get it. Put me
in the past. Push me towards the
future. Make this happen at any time
at all. I don't care where I am. Make
me special and famous."
Fame...beauty...desire...worth. I
would finally be someone special. I
would stand out in this messy,
grubby little world as better than,
someone to be talked about and
admired. Better than all those sad,
old, ugly women with their pathetic
lives that came and went without
notice. I would be recognized and
adored, just as I always wanted. I
would be remembered. It was worth
any price. Any.
"Can you do that for me? Tomorrow?
Can I wake up tomorrow with all of
these things?"
The planchette moved and stopped
on "yes."
I felt a breath of hope and joy move
through me like never before. This
was it. I could have what I needed.
All my longing, my need to be
famous for years and years, was
about to be fulfilled. Stunned with
happiness, I asked one final
question.
"What is the price?' Because there is
always a price for such things.
Y O U R S O U L
My heart froze, but I'd known it was
coming. I'm sure I wasn't the first
person to sell their soul to the devil
to get what they needed. No matter,
I told myself. It would all be worth
it. I would follow through on this
terrifying plan. All that mattered was
that my greatest desire be granted.
I whispered, "Agreed."
And so it was done. I had made a
pact with the devil. There would be
no turning back, no begging to undo
this, no hope of changing the course
to come. And I didn't want to. When
I woke tomorrow, my wonderful and
special life would start. All the pain
would be over and the rewards
would begin.
I laid down in the middle of the
candles, afraid to sleep in my room
lest I wake and find this was all a
dream. Of course, I could wake up
tomorrow in a mansion or on a
private jet traveling to a destination
beyond my wildest dreams. It could
be anywhere. I sank into a deep,
peaceful sleep with a curious smile
on my face. A smile. It felt so good.
How long had it been since I had
smiled?
When I woke up, I could still feel the
strange little smile on my face. It
took a moment for my eyes to adjust
to my surroundings. The faint outline
of a handsome young man gazing
upon my face in wonder became
clear. I couldn't believe it. Yes! This
was the start of my sweet fame. Oh,
how I'd longed for this moment and
finally it was here. Another face
came into view. This was a woman
looking at me with a dazed
expression. Probably jealous, I told
myself smugly. Who wouldn't be?
She looked like the ordinary person I
had once been.
I started to hear sounds around me,
quietly at first, then rushing to fill
my head. I could hear hushed
conversations and footsteps echoing
throughout what sounded like a
great hall. Was I queen living in a
castle? I needed to know. I tried to
look around the room, but found that
I couldn't. I tried to move my head
to see, but it was stuck in place.
What was happening? This wasn't
right. I couldn't even blink.
Something was wrong! How could I
be famous if I couldn't even move?
I tried to open my mouth to speak,
but it was as if it was sealed shut. I
couldn't move anything. My mind
panicked and I tried to breathe
deeply, but my lungs were not
responding. It was as if my whole
body was encased in cement.
Nothing was working and I couldn't
feel a thing. All I could do was think.
Another group came into view. This
group contained what looked like a
family, with small children. "She's
amazing," the mother said. "Yes",
the father responded. " II never
thought I'd ever get to see her in
real life." They turned to each other
and shared a smile. What was
happening? I'm amazing but I can't
move? I gave up my immortal soul
for this? Years and years of...what?
Another person walked in front of
me, an old man with kind eyes who
gazed at me thoughtfully. "You
know," he mused to the docent, "I've
looked at the Mona Lisa a hundred
times but I still can't figure out what
the strange smile on her face means.
I've always wondered what she was
thinking about when this picture was
created."
The horror crushed me as I thought
of my future. Forever trapped on a
canvas. Famous and admired, just
like I begged. My last thought, before
I descended into true madness, was
- never make a deal with the devil.
He'll give you everything you want...
and then some.