The Devil's Grindstone
here is an ancient house in the old and
lonely part of town. From the first floor
to the attic it is inhabited by discontented and
unhappy people. Whosoever enters it is at
once seized by a feeling of disquietude, of dismay,
and mental torment. It is a dark and
sinister structure, buried almost up to its
belly in the earth of the unpaved hill.
In the centre of the cellar there lies an iron plate. Whosoever ventures to lift it may look into a black and narrow shaft with slippery sides. Cold and sheer it runs down into the heart of the earth. Often had torches attached to ropes been let down into this hole. They sank deeply into the darkness and their light became ever weaker and more smoldering. Then the torches would go out and the people would say: "There ain't any more air!"
And so nobody has ever found out whither this shaft goes.
Should you, however, be possessed of clear eyes, you will be able to see without light. You will be
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