The empty box
The Empty Box
The king told the youth, “If you want to marry my daughter you’ll have to bring me three golden hairs from the Devil’s head.”
The youth didn’t flinch or hesitate. He was in love with the princess and she with him. Nothing was going to stand in his way.
He set off immediately to find the entrance to Hell. It wasn’t easy. No one he met seemed to know where Hell was, exactly. They all had a vague idea that it was somewhere not too far away, but beyond that….
The youth met a soldier coming along the street on two crutches and asked him if he knew the way to Hell. The soldier swore at him. “If I wasn’t hanging off these sticks I’d give you a beating,” he growled. Then he looked the youth in the eyes and realized he was sincere.
“I’m sorry to tell you this,” the soldier said, “but Hell doesn’t exist.”
“What do you mean?” the youth asked in alarm.
“It’s just an idea that people made up a long time ago, to scare other people into being good. Lots of fools still believe in it, though. They’re sure it’s a real place, where anyone they don’t like or disagree with is sure to end up.”
The youth was desolate. “But I need there to be a Hell,” he said. “There has to be one.”
“Don’t worry, there are plenty,” the soldier said. “Try the hospital I just came from.”
The youth went to the hospital. It was noisy and crowded. Stretchers with sick and wounded people on them filled the hallways like a traffic jam. When he asked the patients, nurses and doctors if this was Hell, they all told him to go there.
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” he said in frustration.
Finally a man in a black suit told him he was looking in the wrong direction. Wherever you were on the planet, the man said, Hell was always in the same direction: down.
The youth found a staircase that took him to the lower floors of the hospital. At the bottom was a door. Through the door was another staircase that led down to a subway platform. The youth waited for a while and a train came and he climbed on board.
There were a few other passengers, but they didn’t speak or look up from their device-thumbing. Sitting across from the youth was a big, powerful-looking man with his tattoo-covered arms folded across his chest. He was wearing a huge, fully-loaded tool belt. He looked at the youth and then nodded.
“It’s real,” the man said. “I can tell you that from experience.”
“You know what I’m looking for?” the youth asked. “You’ve been there?”
“I work there,” the man said. “Paying off a mistake I made a long time ago. Otherwise believe me, I’d find another job in a heartbeat.”
“What do you do?”
The repairman smiled as if he knew a great secret.
“I need three golden hairs from the Devil’s head,” the youth said. “Will you help me get them?”
“Sabotage,” the repairman said. “I like it.”
The train made several stops, and one by one the other passengers got off, until only the youth and the repairman were left in the car. The train rolled and rattled on. Finally it stopped again. The repairman got out and the youth followed him. As the train pulled away, the youth saw that a terrible battle was going on in one of the other cars: a winged, radiant woman with a shining spear was fending off a thing that was all mouths and darkness. No one else sitting in that car seemed to notice or care.
The repairman and the youth ascended a flight of stairs and came outside into a street that blazed in the sun. No one was around. The repairman walked down the street and the youth followed him, to a large house with a big bay window and an attached garage. The repairman rang the doorbell and a voice said Come in.
The Devil was sitting in a leather recliner with the footrest up, watching television and eating a TV dinner of ham, mashed potatoes, and corn. He was fat, sweaty and balding.
“Who’s that?” the Devil asked, pointing to the youth.
“New trainee,” the repairman said.
“Well, get to it,” the Devil said.
The repairman went over to a metal box sticking out of the wall. He removed the front panel. There was nothing inside, as far as the youth could tell, but the repairman folded his arms across his chest and stared into the empty box with a look of intense concentration. He didn’t move for a long time, and the youth stole glances at the Devil.
The Devil was watching the news. It was all the same: bad. Then there was a commercial break. It was all the same: good. Then the Devil’s phone burbled.
“Hi, Ma. What’s that? Really? How’d it happen? Heart attack. Wow. Jeez. Yeah, I know, he was younger than me. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay, Mom, I will. Sure. Uh-huh. Okay. Right. Uh-huh. Okay. Yep. Okay. Uh-huh. Okay, bye-bye.”
The Devil went back to watching television and eating his TV dinner. Somewhere in a faraway country a man who was angry put a gun to another man’s head and fired. The Devil fell asleep with the empty dinner tray rising and falling on his stomach with each breath.
The repairman said, “Ah.” He took a small pair of needle-nose pliers from his toolbelt and picked something from inside the box. He held it up for the youth to see. Between the jaws of the pliers was a tiny round object, either a pebble or a seed. The repairman dropped the object into a pouch on his belt, then gave the youth a wink. He took out a pen and marked the date on a sticker on the front panel of the box, then put the panel back in place.
“Now then,” he said, and went over to the Devil. He handed the pliers to the youth. There weren’t many hairs left on the Devil’s head, and most of them were grey. But the youth searched and managed to locate three that were gold. He plucked the first one, bracing himself for an eruption of absolute evil, but the Devil didn’t stir. And the hair came out easily. So did the other two. As if they were going to fall out soon anyway.
When the youth got home he discovered the king had flown into a rage about something or other and had died of a heart attack. There was no obstacle anymore to the young people’s marriage, but there had to be a mourning period first, to show respect for the king. During that time the youth and the princess discovered that they really didn’t have all that much in common. They parted amicably.
The three golden hairs are lying on a windowsill somewhere, forgotten. They are perfectly useless. No one notices how they shine in the sun.
-- Based on “The Devil with the Three Golden Hairs” by the Brothers Grimm. There’s a delightful retelling of the traditional story, called Ouch!, by Natalie Babbitt and Fred Marcellino.
The king told the youth, “If you want to marry my daughter you’ll have to bring me three golden hairs from the Devil’s head.”
The youth didn’t flinch or hesitate. He was in love with the princess and she with him. Nothing was going to stand in his way.
He set off immediately to find the entrance to Hell. It wasn’t easy. No one he met seemed to know where Hell was, exactly. They all had a vague idea that it was somewhere not too far away, but beyond that….
The youth met a soldier coming along the street on two crutches and asked him if he knew the way to Hell. The soldier swore at him. “If I wasn’t hanging off these sticks I’d give you a beating,” he growled. Then he looked the youth in the eyes and realized he was sincere.
“I’m sorry to tell you this,” the soldier said, “but Hell doesn’t exist.”
“What do you mean?” the youth asked in alarm.
“It’s just an idea that people made up a long time ago, to scare other people into being good. Lots of fools still believe in it, though. They’re sure it’s a real place, where anyone they don’t like or disagree with is sure to end up.”
The youth was desolate. “But I need there to be a Hell,” he said. “There has to be one.”
“Don’t worry, there are plenty,” the soldier said. “Try the hospital I just came from.”
The youth went to the hospital. It was noisy and crowded. Stretchers with sick and wounded people on them filled the hallways like a traffic jam. When he asked the patients, nurses and doctors if this was Hell, they all told him to go there.
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” he said in frustration.
Finally a man in a black suit told him he was looking in the wrong direction. Wherever you were on the planet, the man said, Hell was always in the same direction: down.
The youth found a staircase that took him to the lower floors of the hospital. At the bottom was a door. Through the door was another staircase that led down to a subway platform. The youth waited for a while and a train came and he climbed on board.
There were a few other passengers, but they didn’t speak or look up from their device-thumbing. Sitting across from the youth was a big, powerful-looking man with his tattoo-covered arms folded across his chest. He was wearing a huge, fully-loaded tool belt. He looked at the youth and then nodded.
“It’s real,” the man said. “I can tell you that from experience.”
“You know what I’m looking for?” the youth asked. “You’ve been there?”
“I work there,” the man said. “Paying off a mistake I made a long time ago. Otherwise believe me, I’d find another job in a heartbeat.”
“What do you do?”
The repairman smiled as if he knew a great secret.
“I need three golden hairs from the Devil’s head,” the youth said. “Will you help me get them?”
“Sabotage,” the repairman said. “I like it.”
The train made several stops, and one by one the other passengers got off, until only the youth and the repairman were left in the car. The train rolled and rattled on. Finally it stopped again. The repairman got out and the youth followed him. As the train pulled away, the youth saw that a terrible battle was going on in one of the other cars: a winged, radiant woman with a shining spear was fending off a thing that was all mouths and darkness. No one else sitting in that car seemed to notice or care.
The repairman and the youth ascended a flight of stairs and came outside into a street that blazed in the sun. No one was around. The repairman walked down the street and the youth followed him, to a large house with a big bay window and an attached garage. The repairman rang the doorbell and a voice said Come in.
The Devil was sitting in a leather recliner with the footrest up, watching television and eating a TV dinner of ham, mashed potatoes, and corn. He was fat, sweaty and balding.
“Who’s that?” the Devil asked, pointing to the youth.
“New trainee,” the repairman said.
“Well, get to it,” the Devil said.
The repairman went over to a metal box sticking out of the wall. He removed the front panel. There was nothing inside, as far as the youth could tell, but the repairman folded his arms across his chest and stared into the empty box with a look of intense concentration. He didn’t move for a long time, and the youth stole glances at the Devil.
The Devil was watching the news. It was all the same: bad. Then there was a commercial break. It was all the same: good. Then the Devil’s phone burbled.
“Hi, Ma. What’s that? Really? How’d it happen? Heart attack. Wow. Jeez. Yeah, I know, he was younger than me. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay, Mom, I will. Sure. Uh-huh. Okay. Right. Uh-huh. Okay. Yep. Okay. Uh-huh. Okay, bye-bye.”
The Devil went back to watching television and eating his TV dinner. Somewhere in a faraway country a man who was angry put a gun to another man’s head and fired. The Devil fell asleep with the empty dinner tray rising and falling on his stomach with each breath.
The repairman said, “Ah.” He took a small pair of needle-nose pliers from his toolbelt and picked something from inside the box. He held it up for the youth to see. Between the jaws of the pliers was a tiny round object, either a pebble or a seed. The repairman dropped the object into a pouch on his belt, then gave the youth a wink. He took out a pen and marked the date on a sticker on the front panel of the box, then put the panel back in place.
“Now then,” he said, and went over to the Devil. He handed the pliers to the youth. There weren’t many hairs left on the Devil’s head, and most of them were grey. But the youth searched and managed to locate three that were gold. He plucked the first one, bracing himself for an eruption of absolute evil, but the Devil didn’t stir. And the hair came out easily. So did the other two. As if they were going to fall out soon anyway.
When the youth got home he discovered the king had flown into a rage about something or other and had died of a heart attack. There was no obstacle anymore to the young people’s marriage, but there had to be a mourning period first, to show respect for the king. During that time the youth and the princess discovered that they really didn’t have all that much in common. They parted amicably.
The three golden hairs are lying on a windowsill somewhere, forgotten. They are perfectly useless. No one notices how they shine in the sun.
-- Based on “The Devil with the Three Golden Hairs” by the Brothers Grimm. There’s a delightful retelling of the traditional story, called Ouch!, by Natalie Babbitt and Fred Marcellino.
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