Devil's Land
“An old Englishman once told me about the evils that the outside world holds. He said all it takes is just the tip of a finger to get ahold of your soul and guide you down to the depths of the Devil’s lands. In my ignorance, I repeated the words Deacon Jacobs said at each sermon—that it’s the Englishman’s sinful ways that allow such evil to persist in the outside world.”
The young man lights a cigarette, inhaling deeply, his fingers twitching with nervousness. He exhales slowly, as if every drag is a small rebellion against the heaviness inside him.
“You know, after they tried to kill me... something as small as smoking feels like a statement of life,” he mutters, the cigarette dangling from his lips. “Even though you Englishmen say smoking is evil, well, I can attest that on the scale of evil, God doesn’t care for this small infraction.”
He stands across from a middle-aged woman, who is intently scribbling in her small black notepad.
“Like I said before, I’m here to listen to your story and help you adjust to the outside world,” she says, her tone professional but gentle. “But I have to ask, Ryan... why do you refer to everyone as Englishmen when we’re still in the United States?”
Ryan takes another drag, his smile creeping onto his face like an uninvited guest, momentarily softening the tension in his features.
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“In the community, any outsider is considered an Englishman,” Ryan said, his voice carrying a weight of bitterness. “Some things in tradition don’t make sense, but that’s part of why I had to get the hell out.”
As she continued writing in her notepad, Jessie could sense that this conversation wasn’t just a simple exchange—it was more like Ryan expelling his soul’s secrets, secrets that had poisoned him for far too long.
“I was blind, but it was alright. We had our ways—worship, family, fellowship. We all had that white light that blinds you but also guides you,” he continued, his voice quieter now. “But for my brother Edward, that light faded and turned to grey. Before any of us knew it, we were introduced to the darkness.”
Jessie paused, looking up from her notes. “What did you say your name was again?”
“Jessica Ruthers, but you can call me Jessie.” She smiled briefly before turning her focus back to him.
Ryan flicked the filter of his cigarette with his thumb, sending the ashes swirling away in the wind. “Well, Ms. Ruthers, you could say things really changed for my old home when the devil came.”
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