rebecca-smiles
I should like to invite people to post or link stories that they have that they feel represent tarot really well.
I found some years ago a story which captured the Devil perfectly, for me.
The devil in the tarot warns us about problems within ourselves that need to be addressed. He seems to me more guardian angel than evil terror!
And so he is in this story; He is just an amicable chap who oversees hell, and it is his mere presence that people react to and this brings to light peoples poor character, that is within themselves. He does not tempt, although it is easy to throw blame; after all, whenever he is around people do bad things.
so here it is:
The Devil and the Shoemaker
By David Randall
One day an old man, all wizened and shrivelled up, walked into the shop of young Simon the Shoemaker.
"Simon," he said, "can you make me a pair of shoes? My feet are all sore and burned by my work, and it would be a great comfort to me to have them covered up."
Simon wondered how the old man knew his name, but he didn't say anything, only bent down to take the measure of the old man's feet. They were each a good twenty inches long, with great sharp toenails at the end, and charred scabs and blisters all over the skin.
"Old man," asked Simon, "what sort of work is it you do? I've never heard of a job that does such horrible things to the feet."
"I'm Old Nick," said the Devil - for it was the Devil himself - "and it's my job to walk though Hell all day, on burning stones and molten iron. It's agony, I don't mind telling you."
Simon was mightily disturbed, for it's not every day Old Nick walks into your shop and asks for service. Maybe I should tell him to go away, he thought, for they say you should never deal with Old Nick. On the other hand, he thought - and he looked at those feet, so scarred and torn - it's only a small kindness he's asking. There's no creature on earth or under that doesn't deserve a small kindness.
"I'll make you your shoes," said Simon, "but first I'll go to the Doctor to get you a salve for your feet. It's no use making you a shoe till your skin's smooth and healthy." Off he went, and he asked the Doctor for a salve to heal wounds and soothe burns.
"Who's it for?" asked the Doctor, who sometimes attended the Duke, and thought himself above all other men in the village. "It's for Old Nick," said Simon. "He's come to me for shoes, but I can't start till his feet are cured. Will you sell me the salve?"
"I'll do nothing of the sort!" said the Doctor. "Old Nick's a low-down, wandering sort, a regular deceiving gypsy. If he's in trouble, he brought it on himself. He'll get no help from me!" And he slammed the door in Simon's face.
So Simon went out to the forest and plucked some herbs and grasses to make his own salve. It wasn't as fine or as quick to work as the Doctor's salve, but it did well enough to cure Old Nick's feet, though it took a week. In the meantime Old Nick told Simon tales of all the kings on earth, to while away the hours. Simon told Old Nick that it was the Doctor's salve, for there's no use getting men in trouble with Old Nick.
At the end of the week Simon started fitting Old Nick's feet into the softest leather he had. He stopped when he came to Old Nick's toes, for they hard as iron, and so sharp that they'd cut any leather in the world.
"I'll go to the Barber," said Simon, "and borrow some nail-clippers from him. It's no use fitting leather to you till your nails have been trimmed." Off he went, and he asked the Barber for the loan of his best nail-clippers.
"Who's it for?" asked the Barber, who went to confession every day and thought himself the most pious man in the village.
"It's for Old Nick," said Simon. "He's come to me for shoes, and I can't go on till his toenails are trimmed. Will you lend me your nail-clippers?"
"God be my witness, I will not!" said the Barber. "Old Nick's an evil, rebellious Devil, a sinner from the beginning. If anything's wrong with him, it's God's punishment on him. He'll get no help from me!" And he slammed the door in Simon's face.
So Simon sneaked into his shop through the back way, bent his awls and leather-knives till they looked like nail-clippers, and went to work on Old Nick's toenails. It wasn't as close or even a trim as it would have been if he'd been able to borrow the Barber's nail-clippers, but it did well enough to smooth Old Nick's toenails, though it took a week. In the meantime Old Nick told Simon tales of all the merchants on earth, to while away the hours. Simon told Old Nick that he was using the Barber's nail- clippers, for there's no use getting men in trouble with Old Nick.
At the end of the week Simon finished the fashioning of the leather, and Old Nick was delighted with how well the shoes fit, and how softly they pressed against his skin. "It's not done yet," said Simon. "The leather will burn up if Hell is as hot as they say. I'll go to the Mason for some stone soles, for stone's the only thing that will keep the leather in one piece." Off he went, and he asked the Mason to carve him a pair of shoe soles made of stone.
"Who's it for?" asked the Mason, who hid his money deep in the ground, and thought himself the most prudent man in the village.
"It's for Old Nick," said Simon. "He's come to me for shoes, and they need stone soles to keep the leather from burning up. Will you make them for me?"
"I would if I could, but you know how things are," said the Mason. "People don't think much of Old Nick, and who knows what they'd do to me if they heard I'd had anything to do with him? He'll get no help from me!" And he slammed the door in Simon's face.
So Simon made excuses to go off on his own, and spent the week carving a pair of soles out of a block of granite. He didn't shape them or polish them as well as the Mason could have, but they did well enough to keep the leather from burning up. In the meantime Simon heard no stories from Old Nick. Old Nick was happy enough not to speak, for the only stories he hadn't told were about the poor of the earth, and Old Nick didn't know many of that sort of story. Simon told Old Nick that the Mason was making his soles, for there's no use getting men in trouble with Old Nick.
At the end of the week the shoes were finished. Old Nick jumped up and down for delight and walked into Simon's fireplace to see how they stood up to fire. Old Nick's feet stayed as cool and comfortable as can be, so he asked Simon what he'd like for payment.
"There's no charge," said Simon, for they say you should never do business with Old Nick. "I'm giving them to you, and I hope you'll wear them in good health."
"That's kind of you, Simon," said Old Nick, "and I won't forget that you've done me a kindness. Call for your friend Nicholas if you're ever in need, and I'll see what I can do for you." And he went walking down the road to the great, wide world.
It wasn't too many years later that the Doctor died, as all men die, and the village sorely missed a man to look after their aches and pains. So Simon called for Nicholas, and soon enough Old Nick came ambling down the road. His shoes were a little chipped, his clothes were a little dustier, but he hadn't changed aside from that.
"Hello, Simon," said Old Nick. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Well, Nicholas," said Simon, "our Doctor's dead, and we're in great need of someone to do the curing in the village. They say you know all there is to know about diseases and corruptions, so I was wondering if you'd be our Doctor till another fellow comes along. It shouldn't be for more than a month or two."
"I think I can manage that," said Old Nick, and he settled right into the village to be the Doctor. He was there six months altogether, and the village never had a better man for setting splints and cooling fevers, for helping out at childbirth and soothing rashes. In the evenings he talked with Simon over a jug of wine in the tavern, and he pointed out Bess, the miller's daughter, who blushed whenever Simon looked at her. At the end of six months a new Doctor came, a young man with no airs about him, and Old Nick made himself ready to go.
"You've been a good friend to me these six months, Simon," said Old Nick, "and I won't forget that you've been a good friend. Call for your friend Nicholas if you're ever in need, and I'll see what I can do for you." And he went walking down the road to the great, wide world.
It wasn't too many years later that the Barber died, as all men die, and the village sorely missed a man to trim their nails and smooth their faces. So Simon called for Nicholas, and soon enough Old Nick came ambling down the road. His cheeks were a little stubbly, his belt a little looser, but he hadn't changed aside from that.
"Hello, Simon," said Old Nick. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Well, Nicholas," said Simon, "our Barber's dead, and we're in great need of someone to shave the down off our young boys' cheeks and comb the tangles out of our young girls' hair. They say you know all there is to know about fashion and beauty, so I was wondering if you'd be our Barber till another fellow comes along. It shouldn't be for more than three or four months."
"I think I can manage that," said Old Nick, and he settled right into the village to be the Barber. He was there nine months altogether, and the village never had a better man for making a lad look like a prince, for bringing out the milk and roses in a young lass' face. In the evenings he talked with Simon and his wife Bess at their home, and he dangled their daughter on his knee. At the end of nine months a new Barber came, a bluff fellow who thought prayer a good thing in moderation, and Old Nick made himself ready to go.
"You've been a good friend to me these nine months, Simon," said Old Nick, "and I won't forget that you've been a good friend. Call for your friend Nicholas if you're ever in need, and I'll see what I can do for you." And he went walking down the road to the great, wide world.
It wasn't too many years later that the Mason died, as all men die, and the village sorely missed a man to bake bricks for their walls and carve names on their gravestones. So Simon called for Nicholas, and soon enough Old Nick came ambling down the road. He had glasses for his eyes, a limp in one leg, but he hadn't changed aside from that.
"Hello, Simon," said Old Nick. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Well, Nicholas," said Simon, "our Mason's dead, and we're in great need of someone to do the stonework in the village. They say you know all there is to know about the rocks below the earth, so I was wondering if you'd be our Mason till another fellow comes along. It shouldn't be more than five or six months."
"I think I can manage that," said Old Nick, and he settled right into the village to be the Mason. He was there twelve months altogether, and the village never had a better man for sturdy walls and reverent inscriptions on the gravestones. In the evening's he walked with Simon out to where Bess lay buried, and they talked about how quickly Simon's grandchildren were growing up. At the end of twelve months a new Mason came, a brave fellow afraid of no man's envy and no man's opinion, and Old Nick made himself ready to go.
"You've been a good friend to me these twelve months, Simon," said Old Nick, "and I won't forget that you've been a good friend." And he was about to walk down the road to the great, wide world when Simon called him back.
"Nicholas," he said, "I'm afraid of the grave, and I don't know what lies beyond it. Can you say what's waiting for me, Nicholas? It would be a kindness for you to tell me."
Old Nick looked at Simon, and he saw that his friend was old, with white hair and a lined face. "I can tell you that the Doctor is in Hell, and so is the Barber and the Mason, for they were uncharitable souls with no care for an old fellow in pain. But I'm not allowed to tell the living what waits for them, not even my friends." Old Nick saw the disappointment in Simon's eyes, and it hurt him as he hadn't been hurt in a long time. "Goodbye, Simon. We'll never meet again, and I'll miss our times together. Speak well of me." And he went walking down the road to the great, wide world.
He spoke the truth too, though they say Old Nick's only told lies from the day he was born. Simon never saw Old Nick again in this world or the next.
I found some years ago a story which captured the Devil perfectly, for me.
The devil in the tarot warns us about problems within ourselves that need to be addressed. He seems to me more guardian angel than evil terror!
And so he is in this story; He is just an amicable chap who oversees hell, and it is his mere presence that people react to and this brings to light peoples poor character, that is within themselves. He does not tempt, although it is easy to throw blame; after all, whenever he is around people do bad things.
so here it is:
The Devil and the Shoemaker
By David Randall
One day an old man, all wizened and shrivelled up, walked into the shop of young Simon the Shoemaker.
"Simon," he said, "can you make me a pair of shoes? My feet are all sore and burned by my work, and it would be a great comfort to me to have them covered up."
Simon wondered how the old man knew his name, but he didn't say anything, only bent down to take the measure of the old man's feet. They were each a good twenty inches long, with great sharp toenails at the end, and charred scabs and blisters all over the skin.
"Old man," asked Simon, "what sort of work is it you do? I've never heard of a job that does such horrible things to the feet."
"I'm Old Nick," said the Devil - for it was the Devil himself - "and it's my job to walk though Hell all day, on burning stones and molten iron. It's agony, I don't mind telling you."
Simon was mightily disturbed, for it's not every day Old Nick walks into your shop and asks for service. Maybe I should tell him to go away, he thought, for they say you should never deal with Old Nick. On the other hand, he thought - and he looked at those feet, so scarred and torn - it's only a small kindness he's asking. There's no creature on earth or under that doesn't deserve a small kindness.
"I'll make you your shoes," said Simon, "but first I'll go to the Doctor to get you a salve for your feet. It's no use making you a shoe till your skin's smooth and healthy." Off he went, and he asked the Doctor for a salve to heal wounds and soothe burns.
"Who's it for?" asked the Doctor, who sometimes attended the Duke, and thought himself above all other men in the village. "It's for Old Nick," said Simon. "He's come to me for shoes, but I can't start till his feet are cured. Will you sell me the salve?"
"I'll do nothing of the sort!" said the Doctor. "Old Nick's a low-down, wandering sort, a regular deceiving gypsy. If he's in trouble, he brought it on himself. He'll get no help from me!" And he slammed the door in Simon's face.
So Simon went out to the forest and plucked some herbs and grasses to make his own salve. It wasn't as fine or as quick to work as the Doctor's salve, but it did well enough to cure Old Nick's feet, though it took a week. In the meantime Old Nick told Simon tales of all the kings on earth, to while away the hours. Simon told Old Nick that it was the Doctor's salve, for there's no use getting men in trouble with Old Nick.
At the end of the week Simon started fitting Old Nick's feet into the softest leather he had. He stopped when he came to Old Nick's toes, for they hard as iron, and so sharp that they'd cut any leather in the world.
"I'll go to the Barber," said Simon, "and borrow some nail-clippers from him. It's no use fitting leather to you till your nails have been trimmed." Off he went, and he asked the Barber for the loan of his best nail-clippers.
"Who's it for?" asked the Barber, who went to confession every day and thought himself the most pious man in the village.
"It's for Old Nick," said Simon. "He's come to me for shoes, and I can't go on till his toenails are trimmed. Will you lend me your nail-clippers?"
"God be my witness, I will not!" said the Barber. "Old Nick's an evil, rebellious Devil, a sinner from the beginning. If anything's wrong with him, it's God's punishment on him. He'll get no help from me!" And he slammed the door in Simon's face.
So Simon sneaked into his shop through the back way, bent his awls and leather-knives till they looked like nail-clippers, and went to work on Old Nick's toenails. It wasn't as close or even a trim as it would have been if he'd been able to borrow the Barber's nail-clippers, but it did well enough to smooth Old Nick's toenails, though it took a week. In the meantime Old Nick told Simon tales of all the merchants on earth, to while away the hours. Simon told Old Nick that he was using the Barber's nail- clippers, for there's no use getting men in trouble with Old Nick.
At the end of the week Simon finished the fashioning of the leather, and Old Nick was delighted with how well the shoes fit, and how softly they pressed against his skin. "It's not done yet," said Simon. "The leather will burn up if Hell is as hot as they say. I'll go to the Mason for some stone soles, for stone's the only thing that will keep the leather in one piece." Off he went, and he asked the Mason to carve him a pair of shoe soles made of stone.
"Who's it for?" asked the Mason, who hid his money deep in the ground, and thought himself the most prudent man in the village.
"It's for Old Nick," said Simon. "He's come to me for shoes, and they need stone soles to keep the leather from burning up. Will you make them for me?"
"I would if I could, but you know how things are," said the Mason. "People don't think much of Old Nick, and who knows what they'd do to me if they heard I'd had anything to do with him? He'll get no help from me!" And he slammed the door in Simon's face.
So Simon made excuses to go off on his own, and spent the week carving a pair of soles out of a block of granite. He didn't shape them or polish them as well as the Mason could have, but they did well enough to keep the leather from burning up. In the meantime Simon heard no stories from Old Nick. Old Nick was happy enough not to speak, for the only stories he hadn't told were about the poor of the earth, and Old Nick didn't know many of that sort of story. Simon told Old Nick that the Mason was making his soles, for there's no use getting men in trouble with Old Nick.
At the end of the week the shoes were finished. Old Nick jumped up and down for delight and walked into Simon's fireplace to see how they stood up to fire. Old Nick's feet stayed as cool and comfortable as can be, so he asked Simon what he'd like for payment.
"There's no charge," said Simon, for they say you should never do business with Old Nick. "I'm giving them to you, and I hope you'll wear them in good health."
"That's kind of you, Simon," said Old Nick, "and I won't forget that you've done me a kindness. Call for your friend Nicholas if you're ever in need, and I'll see what I can do for you." And he went walking down the road to the great, wide world.
It wasn't too many years later that the Doctor died, as all men die, and the village sorely missed a man to look after their aches and pains. So Simon called for Nicholas, and soon enough Old Nick came ambling down the road. His shoes were a little chipped, his clothes were a little dustier, but he hadn't changed aside from that.
"Hello, Simon," said Old Nick. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Well, Nicholas," said Simon, "our Doctor's dead, and we're in great need of someone to do the curing in the village. They say you know all there is to know about diseases and corruptions, so I was wondering if you'd be our Doctor till another fellow comes along. It shouldn't be for more than a month or two."
"I think I can manage that," said Old Nick, and he settled right into the village to be the Doctor. He was there six months altogether, and the village never had a better man for setting splints and cooling fevers, for helping out at childbirth and soothing rashes. In the evenings he talked with Simon over a jug of wine in the tavern, and he pointed out Bess, the miller's daughter, who blushed whenever Simon looked at her. At the end of six months a new Doctor came, a young man with no airs about him, and Old Nick made himself ready to go.
"You've been a good friend to me these six months, Simon," said Old Nick, "and I won't forget that you've been a good friend. Call for your friend Nicholas if you're ever in need, and I'll see what I can do for you." And he went walking down the road to the great, wide world.
It wasn't too many years later that the Barber died, as all men die, and the village sorely missed a man to trim their nails and smooth their faces. So Simon called for Nicholas, and soon enough Old Nick came ambling down the road. His cheeks were a little stubbly, his belt a little looser, but he hadn't changed aside from that.
"Hello, Simon," said Old Nick. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Well, Nicholas," said Simon, "our Barber's dead, and we're in great need of someone to shave the down off our young boys' cheeks and comb the tangles out of our young girls' hair. They say you know all there is to know about fashion and beauty, so I was wondering if you'd be our Barber till another fellow comes along. It shouldn't be for more than three or four months."
"I think I can manage that," said Old Nick, and he settled right into the village to be the Barber. He was there nine months altogether, and the village never had a better man for making a lad look like a prince, for bringing out the milk and roses in a young lass' face. In the evenings he talked with Simon and his wife Bess at their home, and he dangled their daughter on his knee. At the end of nine months a new Barber came, a bluff fellow who thought prayer a good thing in moderation, and Old Nick made himself ready to go.
"You've been a good friend to me these nine months, Simon," said Old Nick, "and I won't forget that you've been a good friend. Call for your friend Nicholas if you're ever in need, and I'll see what I can do for you." And he went walking down the road to the great, wide world.
It wasn't too many years later that the Mason died, as all men die, and the village sorely missed a man to bake bricks for their walls and carve names on their gravestones. So Simon called for Nicholas, and soon enough Old Nick came ambling down the road. He had glasses for his eyes, a limp in one leg, but he hadn't changed aside from that.
"Hello, Simon," said Old Nick. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Well, Nicholas," said Simon, "our Mason's dead, and we're in great need of someone to do the stonework in the village. They say you know all there is to know about the rocks below the earth, so I was wondering if you'd be our Mason till another fellow comes along. It shouldn't be more than five or six months."
"I think I can manage that," said Old Nick, and he settled right into the village to be the Mason. He was there twelve months altogether, and the village never had a better man for sturdy walls and reverent inscriptions on the gravestones. In the evening's he walked with Simon out to where Bess lay buried, and they talked about how quickly Simon's grandchildren were growing up. At the end of twelve months a new Mason came, a brave fellow afraid of no man's envy and no man's opinion, and Old Nick made himself ready to go.
"You've been a good friend to me these twelve months, Simon," said Old Nick, "and I won't forget that you've been a good friend." And he was about to walk down the road to the great, wide world when Simon called him back.
"Nicholas," he said, "I'm afraid of the grave, and I don't know what lies beyond it. Can you say what's waiting for me, Nicholas? It would be a kindness for you to tell me."
Old Nick looked at Simon, and he saw that his friend was old, with white hair and a lined face. "I can tell you that the Doctor is in Hell, and so is the Barber and the Mason, for they were uncharitable souls with no care for an old fellow in pain. But I'm not allowed to tell the living what waits for them, not even my friends." Old Nick saw the disappointment in Simon's eyes, and it hurt him as he hadn't been hurt in a long time. "Goodbye, Simon. We'll never meet again, and I'll miss our times together. Speak well of me." And he went walking down the road to the great, wide world.
He spoke the truth too, though they say Old Nick's only told lies from the day he was born. Simon never saw Old Nick again in this world or the next.
