Long ago, a beggar climbed the mountains to seek out the lair of Charrok, the soul collector. For it was known this ancient demon would grant any wish, so long as the wisher was willing to bring him souls, the only thing in all the world he craved.

Bowing before the cave, the beggar said, “Oh great Charrok, I am poor. I scrape a meager existence from the soil. People look down upon me. Women turn their noses up at me. I am alone and miserable. I beg of you, give me gold, so that I can be rich and loved.”

A deep rumble emanated from the cave. “Bring me a soul, and I will give you gold.”

That night, the beggar slew an innocent child and brought the demon its soul. In a flash of light, a bag of gold lay at the beggar’s feet. He took it and departed. He spent the gold on fine food and wine, and became the envy of his friends and neighbors. Women came from nearby villages, eager to meet the man with so much money.

A few days later, the beggar returned, wearing the same rags as before. “Oh great Charrok, I have spent all the gold on fine drink and women. I implore you, give me more, so much more that I will never run out.”

“Bring me five souls, and I will give you more gold than you can carry,” answered Charrok.

The beggar hired a group of bandits with the last of his gold pieces, and they slew a family of farmers. The beggar brought the five souls to the demon’s lair. A great rumble shook the ground beneath him, and a giant chest burst from the ground. Inside, there were thousands of gold pieces, indeed, more than the beggar could carry.

With his new wealth, the beggar bought the finest clothing in the land, along with art, antiques, and rare baubles, all to make him the most powerful and respected man in the land. He bought a new home, and spent his days entertained by the poor, who were now his humble servants.

A few days later, the beggar returned, now resplendent in the finest silks. “Oh Great Charrok,” he said, careful not to kneel and soil his robes, “My home is far too small for me. Please, make me a great castle, suitable for one as wealthy as I.”

“Bring me a dozen souls,” rumbled the demon, “And I will build for you a magnificent palace.”

So the rich beggar poisoned the drinking water of a nearby village, killing twelve of its inhabitants. When the beggar returned home, he found his home was gone. In its place was a beautiful palace, with hundreds of rooms, and hundreds of servants. The walls were covered with the finest tapestries, and the floors sparkled with crushed jade.

A few days later the beggar returned to the demon’s cave in a gorgeous stagecoach drawn by a team of six white stallions. “Oh Great Charrok,” he called in a properly aristocratic tone, “I have wealth, and a wondrous home, yet still I yearn for more. Give me a wife, one whose beauty rivals that of the gods themselves.”

“Bring me fifty souls,” said Charrok, “And you shall have your fair maiden.”

That evening, the beggar’s servants crept into a nearby village, and slew fifty of its inhabitants, men, women, the old and the young. When he retired to his bedroom that evening, he found Esmeralda, a woman whose beauty defied description, laying on his bed.

A few days later, the beggar returned, his beautiful wife on his arm. “Charrok, attend to me. Esmeralda is truly the most magnificent creature mortal eyes have seen, and my home is the envy of all. But my desires remain unfulfilled. Make me a king, that I may receive the respect and adoration due me.”

There was no response from the cave. The beggar looked confused, then angry. He strode toward the cave, shouting, “Hear me demon, I gave you an order! Obey me, you bloated toad!”

Suddenly there was a piercing scream, and the beggar fell to his knees and covered his ears, so great was the pain. A bright flash of light shot forth, and the stagecoach, the palace, the gold, and beautiful Esmeralda disappeared as if they had never been.

When the beggar looked up, it was not a dark demon that stood before him, but God Himself. The beggar cried out in fright, “Oh Lord, what is the meaning of this? Where is Charrok?”

The grandfatherly deity’s gaze was one of fury, and his words laced with scorn. “There is no Charrok. There never was. It was a test, my wayward son. And you failed.”

“No!” shrieked the beggar, as his robes dissolved into rags, “Please, give me another chance.”

“I did. I gave you several. 71, to be exact. I had hoped, prayed with all My soul, that every time you stole an innocent life, you would realize the evil you committed. Had you confessed your sins, I would have forgiven you.”

“But I do confess,” said the beggar, tears streaming down his face. “Please, Lord, I beg your forgiveness.”

But God merely shook his head. “No, you do not ask forgiveness, for to forgive someone is to overlook the evil they have done and see the good soul beneath. But there is no good soul within you, beggar. You ask for forgiveness only so you can commit more evil.”

“No, please, Lord, please!” shouted the beggar.

“With no thought of what you were doing, or remorse for those heinous acts, you slew, men, women and children. You stole their lives, stole their souls. All for riches and fame. Long have I witnessed the greed and selfishness of man. I had hoped there were limits to this dark side of My children, but now I see to My regret that none exists.”

With a wave of his hand, God split the ground open beneath the beggar. As he fell into a fiery chasm, he saw dozens of people, twisted and contorted into foul creatures barely recognizable as human. “For your boundless sins, I cast you into the same Hell you cast those you so reprehensibly slew. There you will die their deaths, suffer their pains, over and over again for all eternity.”

As the ground closed over the beggar, his screams could be heard, louder and louder. Just as the rift was sealed, one could see the unholy creatures salivating with anticipation, as they thought of the torments they would visit upon their tormentor.