The Tormenting Demon
THE TORMENTING DEMON dwells in the forest. In a long abandoned cabin dating back to old charcoal-burning [120] times. Going in, one notices only an inexpungable smell of things moldering, and nothing else. Smaller than the smallest mouse, invisible even to an eye that comes very close, the tormenting demon cowers in a corner. Nothing, nothing at all can be noticed; quietly the forest murmurs are heard through the empty window. How lonely it is here, and how well it suits you. Here in the corner you will sleep. Why not in the forest, where the air moves freely? Because now you happen to be here, safe in a cabin, in spite of the fact that the door dropped off its hinges long ago and has been carried away. But still, you grope in the air as though you were trying to pull the door to, then you lie down.