Abergavenny man warns people not to make deals with the devil!

AN Abergavenny man has warned people against making Faustian pacts with the devil after hearing a harrowing story about a local lad who sold his soul to satan.

Although we’re all familiar with the stories about people selling their immortal soul to the Prince of Darkness for worldly gains, in the modern world such tales are usually taken with a hint of metaphor.

People don’t tend to sign their names in their own blood on yellowing parchments anymore and hand them to a man of wealth and taste in exchange for power, wealth, knowledge, fame, youth, or success.

They just let the pursuit of money and material objects slowly diminish their soul and erode their humanity.

The devil isn’t needed.

Neither do guitar players hang about at crossroads waiting to condemn themselves to an eternity in the pit just for a lifetime of being able to play the blues like Blind Willie McTell or Robert Johnson.

They just practice their scales daily.

However, Abergavenny man Johnny Turnip believes that the devil is not only abroad but is busy tempting people with riches and glory beyond compare.

Unfortunately, the price is an eternity in flames.

“They say the devil’s greatest trick is convincing humanity he’s not real, but I’m wise to the old goat!” Turnip told the Chronicle.

“I’ve met a man who sold his soul to Satan many lifetimes ago, and now spends eternity rotting in the bowels of hell, with the exception of Halloween, when Lucifer allows him to roam the earth for one night only, looking for hapless hitchhikers to pick up and take to Hades.”

Turnip explained that he met the damned soul when he was hitchhiking from Blaenavon to Abergavenny on Halloween.

“This weird guy picked me up at the Keepers in this vintage-style motor.” Said Turnip.

“He was dressed like a Victorian and had one of those weird capes and god-awful moustaches. He reminded me a bit of a Millennial, but he looked harmless enough, and I needed a lift back to Aber, so I got in.”

Turnip explained that as soon as he pulled off, he knew something was a bit off.

“Admittedly, his eyes had a kind of red glow about them and the car sort of smelt of eggs, but I thought that could be just because the driver had some sort of alcohol problem it didn’t cross my mind that he was one of the devil’s own and had driven straight from hell to kidnap me.”

Turnip told the Chronicle that things took a turn for the worse when he looked out of the window, and the familiar surroundings of the Keepers’ Road had become a hellscape.

“It was being on Mars or something! Everything had changed in the blink of an eye!” Said Turnip.

“The sky had a terrible red glow to it, and everything seemed to be on fire. Now and then you’d pass something really horrific, like a man dressed like Jimmy Saville riding a chariot pulled by Bully XLs instead of horses or a headless man in a dry robe riding an electric scooter, but for the most part the vibe was one of complete desolation and isolation. There was no life out there, just lunacy, and I was beginning to feel a bit concerned that something wasn’t quite right.

“‘Driver, where you taking us?’ I asked the man in the motor.

“Without taking his eyes from the road, which was now resembling something a bit like Bowser’s Kingdom in Mario Cart, he said, ‘I’m not taking you anywhere. We’re already here.’

“‘And where is here, homeboy?’ I asked.

“‘Here is hell.’”

Turnip explained, “Obviously that knocked me for six a bit. Unless you count Swansea, I’d never been to hell before, and it’s really never been a bucket list destination. Still, I couldn’t show him I was rattled, and just replied, ‘Well, you know what Winston Churchill said about hell?’

“‘No.’ He said.

“‘When you’re in hell, keep going!’ I replied with a certain smugness.

“‘That won’t work,’ The driver said, before adding, ‘Long is the way and wide into this forsaken kingdom, and though multitudes arrive, few ever leave.’

“‘Good job, I’m the exception and not the rule then!’ I snapped.

“‘You’ve got a big mouth, haven’t you?’ Said the driver.

“‘I’ve got an even bigger attitude!’ I replied. ‘And you’re about to get on the wrong side of it if you don’t get us the hell out of here and back to civilisation.’

“‘You think a bad attitude is rare in hell?’ He asked.

“‘I think you need to tell me what’s going on, boyo?’ I said. ‘Why’d you bring me here and what do you want?’”

Turnip told the Chronicle that the as the big wheels kept on turning and hell kept on burning, the driver talked and told him his story.

“Apparently, way back when, and we’re talking 19th-century vibes here, the driver whose name was once Milton Jones was a Blaenavon miner who was sick of being poor and being underground every day.

“One day, while walking the Keepers’ Road and dreaming of owning a horse and cart he met a suited and booted dandy who offered him a brand new life. All he had to do was sign his name in blood on a little piece of paper, and the dandy would give him a bag of gold. Seeing all that loot dangled in front of him like a world-conquering carrot was too much for Milton to take, so he snapped at the deal like a donkey who hadn’t eaten in years.

“The only trouble is, Milton didn’t read the small print. The document he signed, stated that Milton would only enjoy the good life for only three years, and then he would die a terrible death after falling down a diseased well and drowning.

“So after becoming a wealthy and celebrated landowner who was lord of the manor overnight, he just as quickly disappeared, and shuffled off this mortal coil to join the ranks of the damned.

“Yet here’s the kicker. Every Halloween between midnight and 3 am he rides the Keepers looking for lost souls to steal away to hell. Finders keepers, losers weepers, and all that. “Anyhow, he used to ride the old road in a horse and cart, but he’s recently upgraded to a motor, and apparently over the years he’s built up quite a collection of souls, nine in total, and apparently I’m to be his tenth. He claims once he gets to 666 the devil will release him, but he might as well whistle Dixie as listen to that Prince of Lies.”

Turnip added, “As Milton told me his tale, I was busy formulating a plan that would help Milton get out of jail early, keep me out of hell, and, more importantly, see this old Turnip beat the devil himself. Think of the bragging rights!”

To be continued....