
"I can fix your life, dearie," the creature sang from the blackened forest. It grinned wider than seemed possible; it's fangs glistened in the moonlight. "I can make you rich, beautiful; I can give you a lover, even a child. All you need to do is ask." And it cooed, the creature, and hummed. It spun tales and made you feel content. All the mess of life swept away into fairy tales and legends. The depression receded, the anxiety stilled. You felt, finally, worth something. And you didn't hear the words whispered, "For a price," until it was too late and you'd signed away the only thing you ever loved.