Devil Gallery for Day Four.

Wow. Just, wow. There are some incredibly personal and vulnerable reflections in the collection for this card, as well as some amazing new creations (especially the fiction). If you don’t look at any other galleries, look at this one. And click through to see the full works in their original context.

Today is the last day for the randomizer challenge, but I will continue to post the galleries through the week as I find time to assemble the posts. Thank you for your patience.

Previous galleries:

The Devil

kuri, a comic haiku:

An unexpected
Visitor to our campfire.
We need more hot dogs.

Galen, blog post and old journal entries and sketches:

After returning home, I was talking about my trip with family and mentioned the world-traveling women I had met. The Patriarch of the family got a look on his face (still have a hard time explaining that look~ sort of like deer-in-the-headlights, but not quite). Then He made his pronouncement:
“Those women do NOT want to be mothers!”

Sandra, altered self-portrait:

Sandra Devil

Elaine, short story, “The Devil Drives at Night”:

“It hardly the same thing,” Randall said. “Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. We know people get hit by cars sometimes; it isn’t out of the question that,” he hesitated as he tried to recall the name. “That Shelley might have seen one of those instances. But when you claim that you saw the Devil, which is a fictional construct, you have to produce concrete evidence or no one is going to believe you.”

The girl said, “I don’t care if you believe me or not. I’m just saying, I saw the devil, and I believe he exists because of that experience.”

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Sarah said. Sarah winked at Randall as she said it. “How did you happen to see the Devil, and where were you, and what was he doing?”

Erin G., personal narrative:

I am a recovered bulimic.
Now. It is H-A-R-D for me to reveal that. Even now, ten years healthy, I find myself trying to catch and clear the diagnosis that is written in my therapist’s file on me.
“No. I’m not one of THOSE bulimics.”
I never binged on food.
I never threw up.
I spent years thinking “I am not bulimic” just because I never engaged in the classic binge and purge.

Sean, creative non-fiction, “A Promise of Deliverance”:

The bishop folded his hands seriously. “If it were just a question of masturbation, I’d have no problem helping you myself, but this other thing… I’m not so comfortable with. I think the best thing to do is to ask for some outside help.”

“Okay. What—what kind of help?”

Mary (@brandelion), fiction, “The Hand in the Dark”:

I did. I looked at him, and I could see the fear in his eyes. You have to listen to me, he said. Those cards are evil. My granny was right. They’re all right, the Church, and everyone. I should have listened to them. We have to get rid of the cards.

I knew he was afraid. In the silence of the moment that followed, a fly buzzed through my open window, and landed on my arm. I didn’t care about the cards, really. He couldn’t have guessed at the things I had come to know.

You’re right, James, I said. We have to get rid of them.

John Remy, digital photo:

john cthulu-esque

DavidK, fiction, “The Devil”:

“Yes, come in,” I said, sweeping my hand toward the interior of the apartment and spattering dove’s blood on the wood of the floor.

He walked in. He walked past the ritual circle on the floor of the living room, stepping around the smoldering black candles that cluttered the floor like fungus in a forest and stepping over the lines drawn in blood already drying to flakes of rust. He sat on one of the cheap wicker-bottom chairs that I had shoved to the side of the room. He breathed in the air thickened by wax smoke and the smell of the insides of doves.

Patrick, poem:

D’ya wanna fuck me?
Or d’ya want a punch in the face?
You look like you’re a screamer
That’s why I’ve gagged you just in case

Cheryl, sketch and blog post:

Jesus and Lucifer

Melissa, digital photo:

girl scout cookies = devilish!

Kevin, twitter poem:

Camembert, mi amoré! Fire lizards of Cthulhu ache to bind me That I would be lost: to myself, you, humanity, eternity herself. But I will not be hidden! For their lies are as wisps of smoke. I will burn bright through the night and light of my life!

@thmazing, altered art:

thmazing devil

Rich, old poem:

Light, the darkness rends
Nighted eyes with pain to shadowed corners sends
As we, (uncalloused few),
Despairing of the night
To get a better view.

Sarah, video of musical performance (not technically a creation):

Danielle, blog post (collected quotes):

ABNORMAL, adj. Not conforming to standard. In matters of thought and conduct, to be independent is to be abnormal, to be abnormal is to be detested. Wherefore the lexicographer adviseth a striving toward the straiter resemblance of the Average Man than he hath to himself. Whoso attaineth thereto shall have peace, the prospect of death and the hope of Hell.

~From The Devil’s Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce


  1. I love all of these responses here and with the other cards. When I see this one in particular, I think of one of my favorite songs by PJ Harvey, “The Devil.” (I know participation is closed on this one, so I’ll be participating with the next one for sure!)

    Great site, John!

  2. John

    Hi Stephanie! It’s good to see you here! (pardon the mess) 🙂

    We drew the last card yesterday, but I haven’t posted the galleries for the last two cards yet (and probably won’t until mid-day tomorrow), so you’re welcome to submit!

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