The Valley of Demons

In my youth I was already overwhelmed with doubts concerning the existence of demons. I nearly drowned myself in a swamp of arguments and counterarguments, unable to find any firm footing on the matter. Sometimes I was drawn in by false imaginations and women’s tales; at other times my intellect obeyed reason and defeated such illusions and falsehoods. [ . . . ] My mind would still twist and turn from moment to moment; ceaselessly my spirit stormed nervously, and yet, no matter what, my heart still burned to see those mysteries and wonders finally unveiled. Until I bestirred myself with courage and fearlessness, and would walk alone at night looking, to see the solution to this riddle for myself. I made talismans, delved in black magic, and befriended old witches; [in cemeteries] I lived among the dead, and in swamps and trash dumps I lingered whole nights, for demons are believed to dwell there. [ . . . ]

Then, one day, I invited over some mystics—or dervishes, as they’re called in Arabic, those who make it their business to hunt after simple souls to entrap them with their superstitious foolishness—and debated about the powers of demons with them. Said one dervish: bring me a boy, between the ages of seven and nine, with blond hair and azure eyes, and then you’ll see demons for real. I did as told and brought forth the boy, making him swear to me that he’d tell me the whole truth about what he’d soon see. The dervish spread a soiled white handkerchief over the boy’s face, placed a glass of water in his lap, and poured seven drops of olive oil into the water, which floated upon the surface. The dervish commanded the boy to fix his eyes directly on the drop in the center of the cup, and not to shift his focus for even a second: “Once you see a pit open up before you,” he said, “tell me at once.” Forty minutes passed and all the while the dervish kept intoning his bizarre utterances—then finally the boy declared that he saw a large opening ahead. “Stare deep into the opening,” said the dervish, “and once you see a large expanse . . .”—and so on and so forth. So the dervish badgered the boy with his questioning until the boy saw the seven devil-princes of hell. Woe unto me! For thus I understood who the true demons were that stole my money and my comfort.

I turned again to this issue, but with greatly renewed interest! My belief in demons had been revived. I began to study witchcraft, dedicating every effort to mastering this dark and awesome art. I wasted my money, squandered my gold; day after day I indulged my studies, for now there was nothing in this world more precious to me than my love of this art. Much time passed until I completely understood the matter: [ . . . ]

So I began to wear seven cleverly woven robes, each made of cloth from each of the seven colors; and my bow and arrow consisted of the seven kinds of metal, seven species of incense I held in my hand as I ventured forth into the desert, to that desolate expanse, to the cliff tops where no man could reach; and as the wooden altar burned before me and a cloud of incense rose from it, I recited the incantation, crafted in sublime wisdom, that would compel them—the demons and angels of destruction, the army of imps and ghosts, and Lilith, who dwell in the wilderness, upon the land and in the sea, and also in the filthy alleyways—to my will. [ . . . ]

And through the thicket I glimpsed some light: like two sparks, these eyes twinkled in the mist, skipping to and fro as if through a blizzard. And then came a bizarre voice, like that of a braying dog—marvelous! And thus I discovered the solution to the riddle hidden in the depth of my soul. The veil had been removed. The mask had been lifted. Lo and behold, I came upon Asmodeus, the king of demons. Here he comes to kneel in front of me, to be my obedient servant and fulfill my every command.