Cradled with the Devil ((1966)(a short Macaabre Story))


Noyllopa the Demon





Subdivided (in parts)

A New Life
The New Mate
The Devil Returns
The Little Angel



(The New Life) Burgendy Washington was released from the mental hospital after three plus years in it care by the courts, it was 1966 now, she had never spent the $2000, dollars Abby Wallace had left her to use as need be while incarcerated, and thus, took it on the day she walked of the hospital grounds. Her $190,000-dollars she had by reselling the Wallace House with its four acres was completely gone, between the hospital and the lawyer, they had picked her dray, you might almost think it was premeditated.

“There you see, you made it,” said her Lawyer Mr. Thompson, Henry Thompson of Fayetteville, “I told you, you would, just keep the bible under your arms and pray and get rid of that devil that seems haunt you—at least for a while.”
She of course followed his instructions, perhaps not to the ‘t’ but close, she was now in Fayetteville, North Caroline, where she started from, when she and Thompson first met, talked and endured a national trial. She was young back then twenty-years old, still young, in her mid twenties, and Thompson, in his mid 40s, an aristocrat now, with his hands into a little of everything it seemed, and he talked like a prince, like he knew what he was doing. Burgendy knew he had a little if not a lot of the devil in him also, it was just hidden better than hers, but now she had a little of God in her also—I mean all those years forced to read the bible to impress her doctors, and fellow men, did something—like it or not—to her, as much as she knew about the devil, she knew about God, Christ, it was impossible not to.
She was annoyed by the action and a flush of anger came to her cheeks, a side of her character that always got her into trouble, in essence, she was really a simple farmer, or farm hand, but shrewd, and Thompson knew that, indefinable shrewd, they both, her and Thompson, carried an air about them him a princely one, that led to his prosperity, and a devilish haunting one that had led her to her ill fate in the hospital. You might say, in the world of demons and devils and the Hold God, and the Lord of Lords, Christ, he was lukewarm, and she was either hot or cold.
“You might as well know it, I’m the big man in this town now, after your case was won, near everyone in town wanted me to do their cases, and in the process of this I invested somewhat,” he told the visiting Haitian girl.
“I noticed,” said Burgendy, “things have changed in the town; I heard the Wallace Plantation had burnt down also, and Abby was killed by that big hog, the one they called Wally, got that there Blue Ribbon at the county fair for.”
“So why Burgendy Washington are you visiting me?” asked Thompson.
“I want to borrow some capital,” she said, with a flat affect on her somewhat pleasant face.
“That means in essence, you want to invest, in what?” asked Henry Thompson.
“A bicycle factory! A small shop.” she said cordially.
He looked out the window, pointed to a building, “You see there,” he commented.
“Yes,” she said, looking at a red brick building.
“What do you see?” he asked diligently.
“A red brick building,” she responded, adding, “and that new building being builds down the block,” she pointed at it as she looked out the window.”
“What do you see really see, I mean be more intimate about it,” he asked again.
“A wall being built to a red brick building,” she remarked.
“So why not invest in a red brick factory, instead?” Henry suggested.
“Because I don’t know a thing about bricks” she commented.
“The red bricks over there,” he pointed again, at a tall building that towered above the trees, she looked, saw it, and he added to his dialogue, “if you look down the street a bit, there is a bicycle shop, it is only one floor, perhaps three-hundred square feet, to the whole place, compared to the building, which has several floors, and each floor 1600-square feet, that is a big, big difference.” He commented.
“You didn’t hear me before Mr. Thompson; I said I only have $2000- dollars, not 200,000!”
Now he talked like an aristocrat. At this point she noticed he had really changed himself, he even wore a diamond ring to show and tell, changed the color of his hair, it was darker. He seemed to glisten in the sunlight, as it beamed through the window of his office, life had been good if not extremely profitable for him, if he had sold his soul for it, he got a good price for it.
“Do you want to know who in town can help you, who can make some changes in your life?”
“Ok,” she said nervously, she wanted to ask, intended to ask for another $2000-dollars to help her with the bicycle shop, but her presence found that the words she had intended to say would not come out of her mouth for the sake of wanting to know what this man had in sore for her, his generalities she presupposed.
Burgendy put her nose against the window, and imagined herself the owner of the bicycle shop, she forgot for the moment, Henry’s independent idea, at this point it was vague at best, and he had to be pulling her leg, definitely having fun with her at her expense, but she was used to it.
She watched a couple get into a car, and some workers digging in the swirl of the massive activity of the morning, and some putting bricks into the street, unsophisticated working people, with high hopes and spirit, and tremendously alert to their surroundings that had no time to think of investments.
“Is everything all right?” asked Henry Thompson.
“Oh yes, yes fine,” she Said.
Henry opened up the window, yelled down the three floors to a big burly man, his body moist with sweat, he looked up, smiled at Henry, a worm embrace of a smile, as if he had a personal interest in Thompson.
“It is my idea, you should go into business with that large hunk of man, he is in his middle 50s, and is looking into marriage, he asked me to find him a fine wife, she owns that brick building, once married you can buy a hundred bicycle shops, and you can pay me double my wages, for setting up this new investment of ours?” he said with the biggest smile he could produced, on his small face.
She lifted up her toes, taking her foot off her heels, bent over to get a better look at him.
“He has strong hands I see, perhaps farm hands at one time, puffing at her heels to remain up. How do I get engaged?” she asked, anyone else but her, would have blushed, but she just furiously stood and waited for the answer.
Dropping his cigarette into the ashtray, he said to Burgundy, “His name is Tony Chandler, I will tell him; I had you come all the way from the Midwest just to see him, that you quite your job, and that at one time you owned a plantation. Just so he doesn’t catch on that you’re the one who lived at the Wallace Plantation, and killed your child, god forbid, he’ll go crazy, and not ever go to the Ritt Bank, and your new name is Katie Sexton, and your plantation was in Haiti, since you know that area well. I can have a birth certificate mad up for you, and a license and other documentation indicating you lived in the Midwest for the past twenty-years, five in Haiti.”



(The New Mate) After standing a while, waiting to meet her new mate, she fell into an imaginary drama, daydream, as this an came up to meet her, how acquaintances can be so rewarding, even after three years of jail, hospital jail. It would seem her eyes ere laughing at this who situation, if not dancing at the moment, of reality, to see if it would pass to a second moment.
She was actually missing the old plantain, the Wallace Plantation; it was really her only home she ever enjoyed.
“I am glad to meet you,” said the husky 50ish, man, named Tony Chandler, heartily.
“Lord a’ mighty, you are a huge man, like rock…!” she commented.
The old bricklayer took that as a compliment. He laughed, and shook his head, “No, I’m just me,” he said, “I work hard and make lots of many, and don’t ask me to show you it.”
Both Henry and Burgendy became silent, as if the gig was up. “The idea of marriage is great, I had asked Mr. Thompson, my adviser and lawyer to find me a cleaver and smart, and good looking young gal, and it seems he has gone to great lengths to do that, you are a fine looking woman, but you don’t look all white, a bit on the dark side, with some African blood if not some French or Spanish,” he commented.
“How about the French and African, in my country we call that Haitian blood!” said Katie Sexton.
“Your name doesn’t sound real either.” He said.
“I changed it when I came to America, don’t everybody, it is easier to say.”
Henry Thompson was proud she had an answer.
“Do we find a judge or a priest?” she asked.
“You don’t waist any time do you,” Tony Chandler said.
“I don’t know why we should, we are adults, and you want what you want, and you will not get it from me unless we are married. She said
“I was afraid of that,” he said, “I guess I wanted to, and I didn’t, and now I know I can’t,” responded.
Said Henry Thompson, “I guess you’ll get married pretty soon now,” looking at Tony, and Tony pulled out his check book wrote out a $10, 000-dollar check for Thompson, said “For your service, it’s all tax deductible, I hope.”
Katie Sexton just looked, “Your surely a marrying kind,” she said, “you don’t just think about things, you act, you do’em, we’ll be getting ourselves married soon then, Henry will you be our best man?” (He nodded his head yes.)



(The Devil Returns) If many things had happened to Katie Sexton, while in the hospital in Prescott, Wisconsin, in the three plus years she was gone, where she attempted to get closer to God, to run out of her life with the black arts, and the devil, which she had slain her child over, things had also happened to the demonic forces that had came into, left behind in Fayetteville. In short space of time her and her husband became well acquainted, as did her and Thompson, and Dylan Anderson business associate of her husbands, almost every man and woman in town knew either her husband or Dylan, owning the biggest brick factory this side of the Mississippi.
Dylan was ten years young than her husband, Tony, a tall slender, stoop-shoulder fellow, who seemed to have everything balanced in his life, even the hat he wore, and his hair cut, his eye brows. He said he was a farmer once, a long time ago, told Katie so, he bought all the items he needed from Ben May’s hardware story, they, he and Ben and Tony were all friends, and Katie was also among the chosen. But when you play or prey to the devil, as Katie once did, he doesn’t play fair, and he has your number, it was several months now into the new year of 1966, and Katie been married four of them. She was again getting those voices, hearing those demonic voices she did summers ago while at the Wallace Plantation. She had stopped her Voodoo for the most part, and continued to go to church, and read the bible, yet not unconvinced which way she wanted to go, she swung more towards the demonic cult when it was available, and to the Christian sect other times, she was out of sorts with what she wanted.
The voice she was hearing was that of the henchman from hell, by the name of Noyllopa, he said he was sent to her at the request of Satan himself, that he had bequeathed upon her any one gift she desired, it was a promise made before she slain her son.
Money was no longer an issue with her, and she and influence among many, and profit was an everyday thing, and the little gossip there was about her, was just that, little, no more. She even had a driver that drove her about the city, helped her with her shopping, and so forth and on. She was to her understanding in need of nothing.

She really had no time anymore to stop for an hour of gossip or simple conversations, but Noyllopa, appeared right in the back seat of her car, as her driver, woman driver, Alice Hart.
“I am the voice you hear when Satan wants to talk to you. You do understand he is the god of his airwaves here on earth. And don’t worry about Alice, she can see me and hear me just like you, I made sure you hired one of us, she’s a lovely creature while in hell, but on earth you’d never agree with me. And she did look beautiful, and any substantial man of the town would have loved to take her out. If you need help you just call on her. Now you must take something from us, lest we feel we have to take away something from you!” said Noyllopa.
“I have too many houses to build, I can’t deal with this anymore, I got to see the lumber yard for my husband, make sure we get new cut boards, and the bricks have to be ready by Tuesday. Noyllopa was silent, so was Alice as she drove, and then Noyllopa disappeared.

It was hard for Katie to sleep that night; she tumbled about the bed, convulsively. She was hoping the darkness would pass to day quickly, that the life she thought dead was not quite dead. In the morning, she discovered a dreadful illness took possession of her husband. And when she walked out to get the doctor, he had the face of the demon on him, although he was not Noyllopa.
Tony sat up in bed “For god’s sake, Katie, what is it?”
“Don’t you see it is Noyllopa, the demon!” she cried.
“What’s the matter doctor with her,” he asked, almost out of breath himself.
Said Katie quickly, “It’s a dream; I had a bad dream, that’s all…!”
She sat by her husband while he went to sleep, and she stayed awake the rest of the night.
“That settles it,” she said out loud, knowing Noyllopa was nearby somewhere.
“It’s simple enough you see, we can in a breath settle everything, what do you want?” asked Noyllopa.
She kind of knew it was a contest with the demon Noyllopa, he proved he run the show, he asserted himself, and she gave in; that is to say, he growled at her, and she reaped the damage before it got worse. She liked her life, and now she had a guardian demon in her car, and one to run her life from a new empire she was acquiring through, Henry Thompson, the lawyer.

(The Gift) She knew there were to be no more days of triumph, the She-cat, as Noyllopa, called Alice hart, watched every move she made, and Noyllopa, watched the business grow, and grow, and it became the most profitable business in the state, it owned stores, machine shops, bicycle shops, interest in banks, the Ritt Bank in particular, it carried ten-perscent of its cash, within its vaults, and the requirement was only seven percent, thus, a stable bank indeed. And the Ritt’s owned restaurants, and movie theaters, and fields and fields of land, that grew cotton and corn on them, the bank was worth $250,000,000 million dollars by the year 1968. Katie’s husband and her was worth, about sixty-million.
What she wanted was to ruin the Ritt Bank, and buy her land back, the Wallace Plantation back to its original status. That was her gift, her request, her desire, and when she asked for it, shut eyes and all, she had a light taste of revenge like she never had before.
But the devil never gives without taking and Noyllopa said “When the time comes and it will you will owe a gift to Satan, and I will be back to collect it.”
The year-1968, was the worse year for the bank. Mr. Ritt, was living like a king, took all his friends on around the world trips, gambled daily, drank nightly, bought motels simply to drink and sit by the piano bar at night and get drunk. His father had died, and he was the full owner of the bank. He fired all his family members, and ruled like a king. And slowly but surely his once ten-percent cash in the bank, dwindled to seven percent, and to five percent, and the government stepped in to say he was not handling the bank in the best interest of his stockholders. He had owned 51-percent of the bank, and Katie talked her husband in to investing now there eighty-million dollars, every penny they had, into buying out all the stock in the bank, and they did, and Ritt, had one little tiny bank outside of Fayetteville, and that is what he was left with. The new bank was called “Sexton and Anderson Federal Bank.”
The bank also owned now 2000- acres of land, cotton and corn growing land. Her husband applauded her for this new insight into business, and she became the president, and she formed a committee to oversee the bank, as required.

(The Devil’s Tax) Noyllopa, came to Burgendy Washington in the wee hours of the night, and lay with her, and said, “This is the priced you must pay, you must carry my seed, give birth to my child, as it was in the days before the Great Flood.”
“How did I happen to be in this situation?” she muttered aloud.
And he made love ardent love, to her, to where even smoke gathered around his balled head, his eyes lighted upon her life fire, his voiced roaring, and her husband paralyzed in a deep sleep, and if he was at all awake, he was afraid to say so. The demon was drunk with abuse.


(The Little Angel) There appeared a child perhaps five years old, a male child, it was all white, dressed in white that is, and the demon looked about, said, “Be a good fellow and leave, and I will not hurt your mother.”
The child was not subject to the demon, and the child new so, and simply smiled, and the demonic being turned its head around again, roaring smoke coming from its gums, “Well,” he carried, “so you are going to make a night of it here?”
Noyllopa, was unspeakable dirty, intending to cut Burgundy’s insides, to make sure his semen was securely inside her, he wanted a child.
“You do not know what you are doing,” said the angel, “the rumor is, you will be buried under a unmovable rock, by Ura’el the archangel soon, for you have violated a child of God, “No,” said the demon, “she is the child of Satan,” all his impulses told him so, and he was told from time to time, but his legend commander in hell, to lie, to do as he please on earth, but not to insult or even find a need to mistake a child of God for anything but a child of God, and to avoid any harshness, but if indeed he could persuade one to work against his own kind, so be it but not to invest any effort into it beyond a word or two and to get out of there quickly, and that it was simply better off to leave well enough alone, it was a waist of time, with a Child of God.
And the little angel said, “Go seek your master, Satan, even he knows better,” and dramatic was this scene, he stopped the attack, and most prominent was it to be but it wasn’t.
In anticipation of such an event, he had not prepared himself for an attack by the enemy; an escape route.
Said the Child, “Call on Satan to help you, if indeed this is not one who has accepted the Lord, and he will be by your side, and I will leave.”
His heart had been set on an open attack, and he tried to get the words out, “Satan, come to my rescue…!” but what came out was a twist, a silence, an emptiness, and the bible she carried all the time at the hospital, that now sat on her desk beside her bed, was opened to the page and stanza that read: John 6:47, it read, “Truly, truly, I say unto you, He that believeth on me had everlasting life.” And a note was written in the bible laid down, and it said, “If He is for you, who can be against you.” And the demonic force saw all this with a clap of an eye, and shivered.
“Did not Satan teach you well?” said the little angel boy, who was recognized by the demon himself.
He could dimly see the little angel now; he was being chained, and brought to a deserted, to be buried under tons and tons of rock for violating on of God’s child, one who had accepted him, made peace with him—

The little boy said to his mother, “Who but a crazy demon would try to do such a thing, he will now be in darkness, I suppose I out to leave I got to report—to, you know who? and don’t worry about me, I got a good house, just like you.”

6-22-2008 Dedicated to ETS