This is another urban legend here in Atkins. This one reminds me of a common folklore type where a smith makes a deal with a dark spirit, hence the title I've chosen to give it. Kind of a Faustian deal, I guess.
I decided to write this one as a poem. I mean, I've already got the story, may as well do something new with it.
"There once was a man
With coal for hands.
He covered them with gloves so red and slick,
But anyone could tell his heart was sick.
He had teeth made of rust
And a mouth made of dust.
The red-handed man liked to gamble with cards
And get people to give him their hearts.
One day, the man with the glove-covered hands-
We'll call him Jack for short-
Went into his favorite bar.
He played a game of cards-
Blackjack, fittingly enough.
"He excused himself and walked away
When he saw a man drinking away
In the corner.
Jack smiled to himself.
He spoke to the drunkard,
And soon enough learned
That he had once owned the place.
Now he felt ashamed to even show his face.
"Jack hid his grin at the fate of this schmuck,
But he could hardly believe his luck.
He asked the man a simple question:
'Wouldn't you do anything to get it back?'
The man glared at him, not trusting Jack.
'That fire, that passion, that's just what I need!'
Said Jack as he patted the man on the back.
'Now, say you were in a terrible crash.
Say you were in a car and it swerved into a ditch.'
The man lowered his head. Jack's plan had caught on a hitch.
'Don't worry, my friend, it's only a thought.
But wouldn't you do anything to crawl back out?
Would you be so wary then
If a man offered you a hand?'
Jack asked as he held out his.
'All I'm asking in return is one thing.
One little thing.
You obey.'
'That's all?' the man asked, scoffing.
'I can manage that- sure thing.'
He shook hands with Jack in the corner in the dark
Of the bar with the rotting walls,
And the deal and his fate were sealed."
