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His appearance was a mystery, if not a complete impossibility. There was no human way he could have gotten in. The cell door was locked tight and carefully guarded by a night duty officer.
"Wake up, Martha," he whispered in a voice as soft as velvet. "I've come to make a deal with you."
Martha awoke from her restless sleep and sat up. "Is it time?" she asked in a fragile sounding voice. Dread clung to her words like drops of morning dew.
The shadowless man with the black Van Dyke beard smiled at her. His eyes were like those of a raven. "It is time for you to make a choice regarding your life," he replied.
"A choice regarding my life?" Martha asked, confused and rubbing the sleep away from her eyes. "My execution is in the morning. I'm a dead woman in just a matter of time."
"Six hours, six minutes, and six seconds to be exact," said the man.
Martha was puzzled. She had never seen this man before but yet something about him seemed familiar. She couldn’t quite figure him out. "Who are you?” she asked, pulling her state-issued sheet up to her collarbone in order to cover her chest. “How did you get past the guards and inside my cell?"
"I think you know who I am, Martha. You've always known me, and I’ve always known you. I was there when you murdered your husband for the insurance money, hacked his body into little pieces, and buried them in the flower garden behind the house. I must say I was quite proud of the way in which you plotted it and carried it out. And you almost got away with it too. It’s such a pity that you didn’t. I was really rooting for you."
"Are you... Death?" Martha asked, cowering with fear.
"Not at all, my dear," the man replied in a cheerful sounding voice. "I'm your personal demon."
"My personal demon? I never knew I had one,” said Martha, sounding rather surprised.
“Everybody has one,” replied the demon, stroking his beard. “We’re assigned to you at the moment of your birth.”
Martha shook her head in disbelief. “I must be dreaming,” she said. “This can’t be!”
The demon gave a small laugh and then assured her that she was quite awake and that he was quite real. "As I’ve told you before,” he explained, “I've come to offer you a choice: Life in another place and time, or death in the gas chamber. The choice is up to you, Martha. What do you have to lose?"
Martha pondered the demon's offer for a few moments and then nodded her head in agreement. "All right then. I'll choose the first option. What do I have to do to seal the deal?"
"Just sign your name, in blood, of course, in the Master's Black Book and the exchange will be made." From out of thin air, a large book with a black leather-bound cover materialized in his hand; a long silver pin appeared in the other.
"The exchange?" Martha asked, feeling a trifle bit puzzled.
"Life in another place and time in exchange for your soul," the demon answered. "Now, don’t look so alarmed. You’re a smart girl, so you must be aware that the murder you committed has already guaranteed your soul eternal damnation. So you have nothing really to lose by a friendly little transaction." And with that being said, he smiled once again. He appeared quite confident that Martha's fear of death and desire to live would persuade her to give him what he had come for. “My time grows short, Martha. Do we have a deal or not?”
The very idea of selling her soul to the Devil filled Martha with an uneasy feeling, but the demon did have a good point she told herself, and like he had said, she really had nothing to lose at this point. His offer was her only chance of escaping the frightening fate that awaited her in the prison’s gas chamber.
“Okay. It’s a deal,” she said, nodding her head.
The demon handed Martha the silver pin and then held the book open for her to sign. She shut her eyes and pricked the tip of her left thumb with the sharp end of the pin. The stinging sensation that ensued caused her to let out a small gasp. She opened her eyes and squeezed out a droplet of blood from the tiny puncture wound, dipped the tip of the pin into it, and then used it like a fountain pen to scrawl her name in the infernal book.
All at once there came a thunderous rumbling sound from somewhere deep within the earth and then Martha felt as if she had awakened from a long dream. She found herself alone and in a strange room that smelled like the inside of a barn. The cobble-stoned floor beneath her feet was strewn with straw and in the corner was a small bed made from bundles of straw tied together. Above the bed was a tiny rectangular window that was letting in the first rays of morning sunlight.
Curious as to where she was, Martha climbed onto the bed and peered out the window to take a look. To her amazement, she saw a small village of Colonial-styled houses and unpaved roads upon which hordes of people dressed in what appeared to be seventeenth century attire walked, and men on horses pulling carts rode. Oddly, they were all traveling in the same direction and within a short matter of time had gathered in the village square, chattering and laughing.
As Martha watched the size of the crowd swell from a few dozen to several hundred, she began to laugh. "I tricked the demon and his master!" she said out loud, feeling quite proud of her cunning. "I'm in another place and time now. I haven't taken anyone’s life. There's been no murder of my husband, which means I've not committed a sin. I'm an innocent woman now, so my soul is safe from eternal damnation. My name won't even appear in the Devil's book until hundreds of years from now! I beat him and that demon of his at their own game! I’m free!"
The sudden rattling of metal keys popped Martha's musing like a balloon. Her mind immediately surged with fear that this new place and time she had been transported to was nothing but a dream and at any moment she would open her eyes to find herself back in her prison cell with the priest and warden ready to escort her to the gas chamber.
The seconds seemed to drag into hours as the door was being unlocked from the other side. And then it slowly opened. To Martha's horror, there stood her husband, dressed in odd attire. He wore a full-sleeved blouse, over which was a waistcoat and a doublet. Below that was a pair of breeches fastened at each of his knees with a garter. The lower half of his legs were covered by cotton stockings and high-topped boots with turnovers, and upon his head he wore a large felt hat with a wide brim. He stared her in the eyes.
"William!" she screamed in disbelief as she backed up from him, fearfully. "Oh my god! You're alive!"
The man stood in silence for a few moments before speaking. "Beggin' your pardon, Miss, but thou must have me confused with someone else. Me name’s Elias, not William. And I should hope to be alive!"
Martha carefully studied the contours of the man's face. The resemblance to her dead husband was uncanny. She breathed a sigh of relief and then asked him, "Could you please tell me where I am and what is today's date?"
The man gave her a queer look and then replied with a grin. "Why, surely thou must know. In the jail of Salem Village is thee, on the twenty-second morn of September in the year of our Lord, sixteen hundred and ninety-two... the day thou hangs on Gallows Hill for the crime of consorting with the Devil!"