by Brad Beals
Not long ago at all, in a neighborhood very near to where you are now, the Devil stood on the porch of a small house. And there in the bright light of a summer afternoon, he knocked, knocked, knocked at the door.
"Who's there?" said a small voice from inside the small house. It was the voice of a child, the youngest of a variety of boys who lived here.
"It is only I, the Devil," said the Devil...
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