This is a true story. At least for the first three sentences.

I’ve made several stabs at a Halloween story over the last few weeks, not so much to win the contest but as a small thank you to Sephrena for her support of Big Closet. None of them was working. They were cliched, forced or just bad. I guess my desperation had reached a greater level than I had realized. I had come to the attention Mr. Stopholes as he introduced himself when he appeared next to my computer desk. Who’d have thought that a devil would be deathly scared of my big excitable mutt! I finally got Cabal into his crate, grabbing and loading my shotgun in the process. That didn’t worry him at all.

“It will do no good to shoot me. I’ve never really been alive in the mortal sense.”

“Then why are you scared of Cabal” I asked.

“I have no desire to spend however many years that animal has left as a chew toy. He has no soul and I have no power over him. You, though, I can help. I can end your perpetual struggles with writers block and as a bonus you can live the rest of your life as a woman, or a man passing in drag, if you prefer.

“And?“

“Surely someone as literate as yourself knows what your side of the bargain is. As you claim to be totally agnostic, the payment should seem small enough.”

My agnosticism was taking a major hit, but the prize was devilishly tempting. I had to ask, “If I agree, just what exactly would you do?”

“You would find that you can write whenever you want. Inspiration will always appear. Additionally, as you seem to want your penis, you will be able to live as a woman until you reveal yourself.”

“That’s it? That’s all my soul is worth?”

“I can throw in sufficient income to live comfortably, but no more than that since it isn’t the primary bargain.”

“So, one-hundred and fifty thousand a year of current buying power?”

“I said comfortably, not luxuriously.” Sixty Thousand a year.”

“a hundred Thousand. Today’s buying power.”

“seventy-five”

“seventy-five thousand a year adjusted for inflation?”

“That’s what I said.” he snapped.

“You people have a reputation, you know. So, to be clear, Elimination of my writer’s blocks, The ability to pass as my feminine self and seventy-five thousand U.S. dollars a year going up to adjust for inflation. And I live my normal lifespan. For my Soul.”

“Yes! Do we have a bargain?”

“ We do.”

After we shook hands, I handed him the title and keys to my Kia Soul with 231,000 miles on the odometer.

“Excuse me, I have a story to write.”