The Devil's Ledger
By Olivia Salter
Word Count: 948
Mississippi Delta, 1924
Evelyn Carter gripped the edge of her desk as Judge Elroy Cline lounged in the doorway of the schoolhouse. His pristine white suit gleamed against the rough wood of the frame, his boots tracking dust across the floor.
“Fifty dollars,” he drawled, chewing on the end of a toothpick. “By Friday. Or I’ll see this shack torn down faster than you can say ‘amen.’”
Evelyn felt her blood simmer, but she kept her voice steady. “This school is on land my father bought with his own money, Judge. You know that.”
Judge Cline chuckled, slow and mean. “Maybe so, but paperwork’s a funny thing. It gets misplaced. Meanwhile, the land under this building? Belongs to the county now. My county. And I reckon I can do with it what I please.”
“You’re a thief, Elroy Cline, and a coward.”
His smile widened. “You’re callin’ me names, Miss Carter, but you’re the one in trouble. Fifty dollars. Or I’ll see these little pickaninnies of yours back in the cotton fields where they belong.”Evelyn’s nails dug into the wood of the desk. “You don’t scare me.”
“Oh, I don’t have to scare you, ma’am. The clock’ll do that for me.” He tipped his hat, turned, and left, whistling a cheerful tune as he strolled down the road.
Evelyn’s shoulders sagged when he was gone, but the tight knot of anger in her chest only grew.
***
The week dragged on, each day hotter than the last. Evelyn taught her students as best she could, but the weight of Judge Cline’s threat pressed down on her.
One evening, as the sun dipped low and painted the sky a bruised purple, Evelyn climbed the hill to the old church. It stood alone, a crumbling relic of another time. Folks whispered it was cursed, but Evelyn didn’t care. She pushed the heavy wooden door open, her steps echoing in the hollow space.
“Lord,” she murmured, kneeling at the dusty altar, her hands clasped tight. “I need help. I need… a miracle.”
Her voice broke, and silence fell over the church. Then—scratch, scratch, scratch.
Her head snapped up. One of the bricks in the altar wall shifted, dislodging itself with a low groan. Evelyn froze, watching as it tumbled to the ground, revealing a dark hollow. Inside was a book.
The leather was cracked and worn, but the gold letters on its cover gleamed as if freshly pressed: The Devil’s Ledger.
Evelyn’s hands trembled as she reached for it. The book was cold to the touch, heavy with something she couldn’t name. She opened it, and the air in the church seemed to shiver.
The first page was filled with names, scrawled in deep red ink. Some were names she recognized—men and women from the town who had disappeared or died in strange ways.
A low whisper coiled through the air, soft as a snake’s hiss.
“Write the name of the one who wrongs you. Justice will be done.”
Evelyn slammed the book shut and stumbled back. “No. I don’t want no part of this.”The ledger sat silently, its leather cover gleaming in the faint candlelight.
***
Three days later, Evelyn sat in the empty schoolhouse, staring at the cracked walls. She’d tried everything—asking for donations, writing letters to old friends, even praying. Fifty dollars was more than she could ever hope to scrape together.
The ledger haunted her thoughts. She dreamed of its pages, of Judge Cline’s name glowing in red ink.
On the fourth night, her desperation boiled over. She returned to the church, her heart pounding.
“I didn’t want to do this,” she whispered as she opened the book, her voice trembling. “But you left me no choice.”
She grabbed the pen that had appeared at the bottom of the page and scrawled: Elroy Cline.
The ink glowed, then burned into the paper, filling the church with the smell of scorched wood. Evelyn dropped the book, her hands shaking.
***
The next morning, the town was buzzing with news: Judge Cline had been found dead in his study.
“He was clutching his chest,” whispered Clara Mae, one of Evelyn’s older students. “But they say his face… it looked like he’d seen the devil himself.”
Evelyn nodded, but her stomach churned. She had wanted justice, but this felt wrong.
That night, she returned to the church, determined to destroy the ledger. She flung it open—and froze.
Her name was written beneath Judge Cline’s, glowing faintly.
“No,” she breathed, her voice shaking. “This… this ain’t right.”
The shadows in the church began to move, twisting and stretching. Faces emerged—familiar, terrible faces. Her great-uncle, her cousin, her neighbors. They stared at her, their mouths opening in silent screams.“You wanted justice,” a voice hissed, deep and mocking. “Justice demands balance.”
Evelyn staggered back as the shadows closed in. “I was trying to help! I was—”
Cold hands gripped her arms, her legs, dragging her into the darkness. Her screams echoed through the empty church, then faded into silence.
***
Weeks later, a traveling preacher stopped at the abandoned church. He found the ledger resting on the altar, its leather cover gleaming as if freshly polished.
Curious, he opened it and saw the names. His breath caught at the newest addition: Evelyn Carter.
A pen appeared at the bottom of the page, shimmering faintly. The preacher hesitated, his hand hovering over the book. Whispers filled the air, seductive and sweet.
He slammed the ledger shut and shoved it back into the wall, his heart pounding. “Not today,” he muttered, hurrying out of the church.
As he walked away, the whispers followed him, soft and patient.
“Justice waits.”
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