The doorbell rang to the tune of rule Britannia.
She opened the door to a man dressed all in black.
She was waiting for the sales pitch
He broke into her thoughts. I’m not selling anything.
Well, that’s a first.
Are you looking for something.
Yes, I’m looking for your soul.
Sounds like insurance to me.
No insurance, just your soul.
Don’t you have to be dead before your soul leaves you.
That’s why I’m here.
I don’t understand.
Dead souls are less powerful than living souls.
I’m twenty-seven, and as far I know, I’m not going to die anytime soon.
This Friday at nine minutes past three, you will die from a severe asthma attack.
I’m not listening to this crap. Who the hell do you think you are?
I’m your saviour.
You’re not anyone's saviour. Now what do you want?
You will have time to save yourself. As long as you say the words. ‘’Take My Soul.’’ Remember the words. ‘’Take My Soul.’’
Then he was gone.
She mentioned it to her husband that night.
It’s you, love; you attract the weirdos
Yes, she did attract the weirdos, but it was just so strange
Friday at three she began to feel unwell, slowly struggling for breath. The inhaler didn’t seem to be working. She began to panic, slowly falling to the floor.
She could just make out the time on her phone, eight minutes past three. Suddenly, she remembered the words,’’ Take my soul.’’ With her last breath, the words came out. ‘’Take my soul.’’
She was preparing dinner when her husband walked in.
I see you're still alive, love.
Yes, alive and kicking.
Have you done something to yourself, had your hair done?
You look different.
No, just the same old me.
Think I’ll have an early night, love; I’m done in.
It was 3 am when he began to struggle for breath.
The inhaler didn’t seem to be working. He began to panic, falling to the floor.
She noticed the time was 3.08 am
Just in time to save him.
She whispered to herself.
Take my soul.
3.09am, he was dead.
It was a shame, but dead souls were less powerful than living souls.
He heard the loud knock, knock.
He opened the door to a woman dressed all in black
She broke into his thoughts.
I’m not selling anything.
-
Author:
Paul Bell (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 4th, 2026 07:32
- Category: Gothic
- Views: 16
- Users favorite of this poem: Friendship, Tristan Robert Lange
Offline)
Comments9
I have notice Paul some people are soulless they can be told by their taste in music. If they don't like the blues they are soulless. A fun read my friend It seem that I remember this one from a while back. I have dusted a couple of mine off as well changing a word or two. Loved it my friend made me smile.
That time of the year again. lol
Indeed it is it seems to come around every year.
There’s a damn good supernatural twist here, because the story starts like a quirky doorstep encounter and slowly turns into a carefully constructed bargain where saving your own life means unknowingly sacrificing someone else. The final reversal is the killer—“I’m not selling anything” coming from the dead husband’s door turns the opening scene back on itself and makes you realize the cycle of soul-taking has only just begun.
This is why I never answer the door now.
Since when was anyone in 'Eastenders' alive? They're all made of wood - the wooden acting! lol.
Could be a Story from the Twilight Zone.
Enjoyed.
Has there ever been a happy time in Eastenders.
And bring back Bouncer to 'Neighbours' I say - the only real actor in it! lol.
Great write
Is spooky.
Hello, Paul,
A great story and great storyteller you are. The narrative and dialogue holds the reader's interest to the very last line - 'Im not selling anything.' Brillant! Very well done indeed.
Kind regards,
Tony.
It's that time of the year again.
Breathtaking my friend👍🏻🕊️
Silly season
Aye!
You could write absolute nonsense and still make it enjoyable...
(Please note I only wrote 'could')
Just wait till I trick or treat you. lol
Jesus, Paul. 😂 From “Sounds like insurance to me” to THAT ending. I should've known better than to trust anybody dressed entirely in black who rings the doorbell to Rule Britannia. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Cold callers, never trust a word they say. lol
A truly spooky write. Nice twist at the end
Sort of guy you don't want trick or treating you.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.