Someone asked me, “How did you learn how to write?”

Here’s the story.

I wasn’t quite a man yet. Trying to be, but not quite there. It was one of those nights, you know the kind… when werewolves are on the prowl for a dinner of American tourists, witches screech as they fly naked across the sky, and small children begin speaking in tongues and howl at the moon. That type of a night. I waited for midnight and went to the crossroads…

The Devil was in one of his moods. On most nights, he’s not a pleasant guy. Truth be told, on most nights, he’s a sneaky son of a bitch. But on that particular night, something was stirring in his little devilish soul.

“Anything I can do for you, young man? You know… we are at the crossroads and it’s midnight after all…”

“Thank you, kind Sir,” I replied. “But while your offerings of magical powers are indeed dazzling, I heard a thing or two about your bargaining tactics, and I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”

“Fair enough,” the Devil nodded. “Fair enough. Truth be told I’m a little tired of all the scheming, manipulating and souls-snatching. Sometimes, I just get tired of playing that game. Feel free not to believe me, but sometimes, after enjoying a drink or twenty, I’d like to hug people and be kind. But once you gain a reputation, it’s hard to shake it off.”

“You feel typecasted?”

“Yeah… something like that. I suppose I deserve it, but I’d love to be different, at least for one night. So, take anything you want from me. No contracts signed in blood. No soul-trades. It’s on the house.”  

“No strings attached?”

“Maybe one…”

“There it comes…”

“No, no, nothing nefarious. Receiving creative powers is its own type of curse. I don’t need to add anything to it. All I ask is that you tell me a good story, and use your newly found powers to help me forget about all my duties for a little while.”

“Deal.”

The Devil did his thing. Thunder echoed like a cosmic drum. Lightning zigzagged across the sky. And suddenly I knew how to write. And for an hour or two, I went on a storytelling marathon, while the Devil and I shared some wine and cheese. He laughed, oh how he laughed. Then, we thanked each other, the Devil laid down for a peaceful sleep, and I became a writer.

True story.