Ah! One can't do the impossible! I am not a fortune teller. For what reason is he familiar to me? As a young girl he disturbed me and mocked me and would never listen. He had a hellish diabolical appearance in his trenchcoat. Nothing ever fell within his wishes.
In these regions I am known as the satanic queen. I wished I was a clean pure spirit but God didn't create me that way. I followed in the footsteps among the dead, in the dead of night. One does not sin while asleep in the dead of mind. But I managed to and had sunk to the bottom of society and touched it.
I was a heavyweight gypsy woman, who was prone to telling interwoven lies. I saw my men once a week, like a menagerie of wild beasts. I roved through the streets in a see-through night gown. It was rumored that in my dreams, I dreamt of sexual deviation to infect men.
But I was mellow, soft and breathed deeply for my anxiety; minutes before I had to rendezvous with my men. In the absence of men I lit lamps outside my apartment in signal that I was available. Suddenly, all together the men stopped showing and I was in near ruin and walked the streets in a clown suit.
I was then attacked and I tried to scream out, but there was no help, nothing could be done. I always took precautions to prevent getting attacked, but this time they got me. Me, the evil wretch. But then I began to shrink to a skeleton and was about to die from a loss of blood. I was beaten again, unmercifully with my crutch. Like a rag woman I was in tatters. I was beaten in the head so badly that I had brain damage. I now wore a helmet for when I would fall over due to my head injuries that affected my balance.
I now lived in a cardboard box eating rotten potatoes and drinking puddle water. People looked at me as a person who got what I deserved, a person to be disposed of because of all the men I had infected. I grew cold and my hands became numb thinking about things. Under great affliction I confessed to God, but a sin half confessed is half forgiven. God proposes but Satan disposes I was once told. But the truly wretched ones God hangs himself.
My eyes were red from weeping and for fearing the Devil. I was getting old and beginning to feel dizzier every day. I left my light on as I waited for a customer, just so I could get a few feeble dollars to eat. I had not slept in weeks due to worry. I looked in the mirror, my face now covered in warts. Then someone pounded on the door- a client wanting my services. I opened the door. It was the Devil. He spread his wings to reveal his red hot erection.