The house on the hill was a lonely place. Once it had housed a happy family of five - two proud fathers, a daughter, a son, and a rather cantankerous grandmother by the name of Helen. Various tragedies, along with several unfortunate events and one horrific murder had left Helen the sole survivor and owner of the once lovely Victorian home. At this point in her life, she had resigned herself to tend the garden on occasion and tending the large family graveyard on the western side of the grounds. There was little left to do anymore than simply await her turn.

Then the mail came.

    She hadn't met the new postman, wearing a flowing black cloak and riding an emaciated pale horse, but he had been nice enough to deliver the plainly wrapped package to her door and she tipped him generously. According to the letter, a distant relative of hers had passed away (this had ceased to be surprising) and left her a piece of their Jewish heritage. It was a small unassuming wooden box. It was the just the container Helen had been looking for to organize her old jewelry in. So, right away she went to open it and saw the black swirling void within. Unusual, certainly, but it only meant more space for her various knick-knacks.

    "Greetings, Helen." Came a rather meek voice from within the box. Helen considered this almost as unusual as the darkness that had started to stare back at her, but delicately began placing her necklaces into the box.

    "I am here to claim your soul for Satan. I am Elbirroh the Horrible." The voice said, obviously annoyed at her lack of response.

    "I'm sorry, Mr. Elbirroh." Helen calmly explained, adding a rather nice broach to the box's contents. "I'm Jewish."

    "Oh." The voice answered awkwardly. There was a long silence as Helen continued her business. Then the lid shut abruptly and Helen felt a rather strange warm sensation running up the back of her neck. It did not burn, in fact it was rather soothing to her old body. The voice now spoke in her head.

    “Your body is mine now.” Elbirroh claimed.

    “Can you please go back down for a moment, I’ve had that crick in my neck for ages now.” After a long pause, the rush of warmth hit the neck again and Helen sighed with relief.

    “Much better. Now, what was that about my body, Mr. Elbirroh?”

    “It… belongs to me, now? I intend to do many wicked… things in your name.” The voice sounded unsure.

    “Is something wrong?”

    “I’ve never done this before.” Elbirroh muttered.

    “Shall we discuss this over tea, then?” Helen offered.

    “Sure.” With that Helen hobbled into the kitchen and sat with two cups of tea. The two talked at length about many subjects, and suddenly Helen did not feel so lonely. Elbirroh was a good conversationalist, despite his entire lack of control over her possession. It was an enjoyable night.