Demon Deals Breadman Games -

The breadman clapped softly. Flour puffed from his palms. “Game’s begun, player.”

“Tuesdays?” I asked.

The Third Loaf

He tipped his cart. Out tumbled not bread, but breaths. Little grey puffs labeled with names. He picked one up, sniffed it like a baguette. “I bake other deals.”

The breadman smiled. His teeth were doughy, uncooked. “Then you know the game.” demon deals breadman games

“Eat,” he said. “You’ll need your strength for next Tuesday.”

“First loaf,” he’d whisper to the hungry housewives, “eases the morning sickness.” And it did. For a week. Then the child was born with teeth like a lamprey’s. The breadman clapped softly

“You won’t miss them at first. Just little gaps. Then you’ll notice your daughter’s recital was on a Wednesday. Your mother’s funeral, a Thursday. The wedding, a Monday. Tuesdays become wrong. Empty. And one night, you’ll wake up holding a serrated knife, standing over your own bed.”