When I was a child, my great-grandmother spent hours reading to me from Grimms’ Fairy Tales, not the sanitized American versions but the original stories in all their dark and terrifying glory. “Rumpelstiltskin” was always one of my favorites. It was only after I reread the story as an adult that I realized what else was hidden beneath the layers of folklore, wish fulfillment, and straw that turned to gold in the right hands.
At its core, “Rumpelstiltskin” is the story of a father who trades his daughter to a king, knowing the king will kill her when he finds out that the girl does not possess the magical skill the man has promised. As a result, the girl must trade with Rumpelstiltskin to save her own life.
Before I became a writer, I taught in the inner city. I watched poverty and drugs ravage families and communities, robbing people of their choices and often their lives. “The Soul Collector” revisits the classic fairy tale I loved so much as a child, juxtaposing my fascination with the paranormal against a backdrop of poverty and drugs, to explore other ways women are “traded”—and the ways we trade ourselves. The crossroads demon (or Soul Collector, as I call him in this story) is the Rumpelstiltskin of the urban fantasy world. He can solve your problems and even grant you wishes—for a price. The question is always the same: What are you willing to trade?