It is the 19th century and Mary, a young woman from a small farm village, confesses to her local priest her deepest, darkest thoughts about the devil.
Mary: I don’t fear him, Father. Though I know he is always there. He doesn’t leave me, ever. I pity him at times and in my weakest moments, I revere him, quite fervently.
I have known that saints have battled with the devil themselves and it has been something that I have recently thought about a lot. Perhaps you can help me understand, I think that I am someone special Father…I have thought about this for some time.
Although my life is completely mundane, my spirit is otherwise. You see, I take these long walks every morning, before anyone in my household wakes up, I leave, alone. I walk for miles, over the hills until I reach the ocean front and it is there when my mind at times has amazed me, it has blazed with these visions and voices and sometimes when I am not so strong, I think the worst of happenings. I imagine myself and the devil holding one another and then I imagine cutting him open, tearing him apart and gripping the insides of his soul, the dark light he possesses.
And after all of this, I cannot say that I hate him Father, that I do not see his worth. This, I must admit to you…