The Devil's Coin

I started my journey early in the morning, feeling a mix of excitement and uncertainty. This was my first road trip alone, driving from Virginia to Florida. My destination was Daytona Beach, a place I'd heard was great for meeting people, especially girls. My parents thought I was taking time off before deciding on college, but the truth was, I needed a break. After four grueling years of high school, I craved freedom and maybe a bit of adventure.

"Here's your MapQuest directions," Dad said, handing me a stack of printed pages. "And if you get lost, grab a road atlas. Five bucks at any gas station," he laughed, the sound like a horn blaring in my ear.

Mom pulled me into a tight hug. "Be safe and call us if you need anything. Promise?"

"I promise, Mom," I patted her on the back trying to mask my impatience. I shook Dad's hand, climbed into my teal 1994 Chevy Cavalier, and eased out of the driveway. As soon as I was out of sight, I gunned the engine, Tom Petty's Greatest Hits blaring from the speakers.

The drive felt liberating. I-81 to I-77, the road stretching endlessly before me. I had planned my first stop in Charlotte to gas up and grab a snack. Ten hours to Daytona, give or take.

I pulled into the Sheetz outside Charlotte, my stomach grumbling and my mind eager for a break. After filling up the tank, I headed inside to use the restroom. The door was locked. I waited, tapping my foot, until it finally swung open, revealing a short man with a walking stick. He was dressed in a dusty brown suit, a faded golden tie, and a matching fedora. The round sunglasses on his face gave him a peculiar look.

"Sorry, didn't realize anyone was in there," I muttered, stepping aside.

"No worries, friend," he replied, his voice smooth and strangely inviting.

After relieving myself, I noticed the man at the counter, talking to the clerk. He was asking to use the phone, his voice calm but with a hint of urgency.

"The phone is for employees only," the clerk said dismissively. "You can use the payphone outside."

I couldn't help but feel sorry for the guy. "Here, use mine," I said, approaching him.

He turned towards me, his lips curling into a smile that showed off teeth yellowed and speckled with gold. "Thank you, friend. Most generous of you."

We walked back to my car and as I opened the door to grab my phone, he commented, "You keep a clean car."

"Uh, thanks," I replied, momentarily taken aback. "How can you tell?"

"Strong sense of smell," he said. "I can pick up the scent of the cleaner you used."

I nodded, feeling an odd mix of curiosity and unease. I handed him my phone, but instead of dialing, he just held it for a moment, as if feeling its weight. "Where are you headed?" I asked.

"Not far from here," he said, still smiling. "Just needed a way home."

I thought about offering him a ride. He seemed harmless enough, just a blind old man. "I could give you a lift, if you want. Save you the cab fare."

His grin widened, showing more of those unsettling teeth. "That's very kind of you, friend."

"Sure," I said, trying to sound casual. "Just let me grab some food. Want anything?"

"An ice water would be lovely, thank you."

Inside, I ordered quickly, but I couldn't shake the strange feeling this man gave me. Something about his demeanor felt...off. Almost like he was hiding something beneath that friendly exterior.

Back on the road, I couldn't help but question him. "So, what do you do? Got family around here?"

"I've been around," he replied vaguely. "Helping those in need, fulfilling desires."

"Fulfilling desires?" I echoed, intrigued despite myself.

He turned his head towards me, though the round sunglasses hid his eyes. "Everyone has desires, don't they? Things they want more than anything. Success, love, wealth...sometimes, people just need a little help to get what they truly desire."

I laughed nervously. "And what do you get out of it?"

"Just a fair exchange," he said, his voice taking on a deeper, more compelling tone. "A small token, something of value to them. A soul, for instance."

My laughter died in my throat. "A soul? You mean, like in those old stories where people sell their souls to the devil?"

"Not so dramatic," he replied, smiling again. "A soul is simply the essence of value. It's a small price to pay for getting everything you've ever wanted."

"You're saying you can just...give people whatever they want? And all you ask for is a soul?" I tried to sound skeptical, but there was a pull in his words, a magnetic lure I couldn't quite dismiss.

"Think of it as a transaction," he explained. "You give me something, I give you something in return. Wealth, success, love...anything your heart desires. And in exchange, just a soul. Not necessarily yours, mind you. It could be anyone's."

The car seemed to grow colder, the air thickening with his words. "And how does this transaction work?" I asked, feeling the weight of my curiosity pressing down on my better judgment.

"Simple," he said, his smile never wavering. "You agree to the terms, and I fulfill your desires. The soul can be claimed at a later time, at my discretion."

A chill ran down my spine. This was insane. The kind of story you'd hear in a bar and laugh off. Yet, something in me was tempted. I was young, uncertain about my future. The idea of having everything I ever wanted handed to me was intoxicating.

"You don't believe in souls, do you?" he asked, his voice suddenly soft, almost pitying. "You think it's just a story, a myth. But deep down, you know there's more to life than what you see."

I glanced at him, his face calm and patient, like he was waiting for me to realize it on my own. "And if I say yes?" I found myself asking, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

"Then I will make it happen," he said simply. "You get what you desire, and in return, I take what I need."

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. This was absurd. But the lure of it was too strong. The promise of an easy road, of success, of everything I'd ever wanted without the struggle. And he wasn't asking for much. Just a soul, any soul.

"What if I don't have a soul to give?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

His smile widened. "You have more than you think, friend. The question is, are you willing to make the trade?"

I hesitated, my mind racing. It was a trick, a scam. But what if it wasn't? What if this was my chance to get ahead, to become something more?

"Alright," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I accept."

He nodded, almost as if he had expected this all along. "Then it's settled," he said, his tone final. "You shall have what you desire. And I will collect my due when the time comes."

A shiver ran through me as the weight of his words settled in. I had done it. Made the deal. For what, I wasn't sure. But there was no going back now.

He gestured towards a grocery store up ahead. "You can drop me off here."

I pulled over, watching as he climbed out. Before he closed the door, he turned to me one last time, his smile a blend of gratitude and something darker. "Remember," he said softly. "Wealth comes in many forms."

With that, he vanished into the crowd, leaving me alone with the strange, heavy feeling that I had just made a deal with something not entirely of this world.

Some years later…

My parents rushed into the hospital, their faces glowing with joy. My son had just been born, healthy and perfect. My wife, Appollonia, lay in the hospital bed, holding our newborn. I had everything I ever wanted, a thriving career as ruthless defense attorney, a beautiful wife, and now, a son.

As I watched my father holding my son, pride shining in his eyes, a fleeting memory of that strange encounter years ago crossed my mind. It had been so long that it almost felt like a dream.

"You have it all now, son," my dad said, passing the baby back to me. "A great career, a beautiful family. You’re a lucky man."

"Yeah," I murmured, holding my son close, trying to focus on the joy of the moment. But something gnawed at me, a nagging unease.

Appollonia smiled as I sat beside her. "You’re stunning," I said, leaning in to kiss her forehead. "And he’s perfect."

"Tell him goodnight," she whispered, her eyes gleaming. "Nurse Ricchezza needs to take him for a bath."

I glanced at the nurse, who stood quietly by the door, her face partially shadowed. Her name tag caught my eye: Ricchezza. It stirred something in the back of my mind.

I kissed my son on the forehead. "Goodnight, little one. We’ll be right here."

As I handed him over, I felt a chill run down my spine. The nurse held him with practiced ease but did not meet my gaze. She turned and walked out of the room, her figure disappearing into the hallway shadows.

"Ricchezza," I muttered, turning back to Appollonia. "Does that mean something in Italian?"

Appollonia's brow furrowed slightly, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Yes, it means wealth or riches," she said softly. "Why do you ask?"

I stared at the doorway where the nurse had vanished. "It's nothing," I replied, forcing a smile. "Just curious."

But it wasn’t nothing. The name tugged at a memory, something I had tried to bury. Wealth comes in many forms, the blind man had said. A chill ran through me as I realized the connection.

I hurried to the doorway, peering down the hall. The nurse was gone, as was my son. Panic rose in my chest. "Where is she taking him?" I asked the nearest nurse, who was arranging linens nearby.

"Who?" she asked, looking up at me in confusion.

"Nurse Ricchezza," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "She took my son for a bath."

The nurse's face paled, eyes widening. "Sir, there's no one here by that name. All newborns are bathed in the nursery, and no one has come to take your baby yet."

My heart pounded in my chest as I turned back to the room. Appollonia stared at me, concern etched on her face. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice trembling.

I couldn’t speak. My mind raced, the blind man's words echoing in my ears. A soul is a soul. What had I agreed to all those years ago? And what had it just cost me?

I sprinted down the hallway, frantically searching for any sign of the nurse, of my son. But the hospital corridors seemed to stretch endlessly, doors closing behind me with an eerie finality. I called out, my voice echoing off the sterile walls, but there was no answer.

Finally, I found the nursery. I burst in, my eyes scanning the room, desperate to find my son. A nurse turned to me, startled. "Sir, you can't be in here!"

"Where's my son?" I demanded. "The nurse, she took him."

Her face softened in understanding. "Your son is right here," she said, motioning to one of the cribs.

I approached, my hands trembling. There he was, my son, sleeping peacefully, oblivious to the chaos. Relief flooded through me, but it was fleeting. I picked him up, holding him close, feeling the rapid beat of his tiny heart.

As I stood there, cradling my child, I noticed something on the edge of the crib—an object glinting in the dim light. I reached out and picked it up. It was a small, golden coin. An old, worn piece, with an inscription that sent a shiver down my spine:

Wealth comes in many forms.

I stared at the coin, my mind spinning. The words of the blind man echoed in my head, his rotten smile flashing before my eyes. He had said the price would be a soul. Not necessarily mine.

I looked down at my son, feeling a mixture of love and dread. What had I done? What had I agreed to?

The nurse looked at me with concern. "Sir, are you alright?"

I forced myself to nod, placing the coin in my pocket. "Yes," I whispered, my voice hollow. "Yes, I'm alright."

But deep down, I knew I wasn't. The deal had been made, the price paid. And as I carried my son back to his mother, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly, irrevocably wrong. Wealth had come to me, just as promised. But at what cost?

As I left the nursery, a faint whisper echoed in the back of my mind, chilling me to the bone. The whisper of a promise kept and a debt paid. And in the shadows of the hospital corridor, a familiar figure stood, watching, smiling, a blind man, tipping his fedora in silent acknowledgment.

Then he was gone, leaving me with nothing but the weight of my choices.