The Girl Who Prayed to the Devil

The sky looked as if it were about to shatter into a thousand pieces. Black clouds had blocked the sunlight for days; gales so fierce that no one could leave their homes without being harmed. The town square lay deserted, as it always did during Holy Week, in the small village of Condoto. The town’s elderly women —religious and superstitious— spent hours praying to the Lord for protection, fearing that the end of times was near. Everyone thought they were mad.

Until the mad one became someone else.

Across from the town church lived little Olivia, locked in her room, playing with her dolls as she did every Holy Week. She was only six years old, and at such a young age, she was brave—unafraid of danger. But something was about to scar her forever.

Her room, decorated with a large window, was positioned so that she could see both the church and the town square in full view. For the first time, she would witness a horrifying event. As usual, Olivia began one of her midnight play sessions on Good Friday. Everything seemed normal until the room was plunged into darkness by a thunderclap that startled all the cats in the area. They began to meow loudly, and the more they meowed, the more cats joined in. Soon, nothing could be heard in the town but their cries. And with that sound, in the blink of an eye, the storm began.

A torrential downpour like none ever seen before battered the rooftops and windows; the wind was so strong that it shattered several panes of glass, leaving only wooden shutters banging again and again against the walls of the houses. Olivia didn’t understand what was happening. Everything spiraled out of control. The rain lasted only a few minutes before slowly fading away—and with it, the cats vanished too. It seemed the town had returned to normal… but it had not.

Amid the silence and eternal darkness of that Friday night, screams and wails began to echo, as if coming from deep inside the church itself. With their ghostly cries, the rain returned, the cats began meowing again, and the bells started to ring in a chaotic rhythm, as if announcing the world’s end.

Paralyzed with fear, Olivia couldn’t look away from the window. Through tears, she let go of her doll with her right hand and clutched her grandmother’s rosary with her left.

“Ave María, gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Ie…”

Before she could pronounce the name of Jesus, the rosary broke in half, falling to the floor and snapping the Lord’s cross.

She could no longer move. Her eyes were fixed on the church, whose doors were slowly opening, revealing the entity that had caused such devastation. Standing tall and proud, the being began to recite prayers in Aramaic, forcing Olivia’s body to move in sync with it. She started twisting her joints until they cracked completely. The same words that echoed from the church poured from the girl’s mouth, and blood began to flow from her eyes.

Alone and unprotected, Olivia was losing her faith and hope — she was now completely under the control of the Evil One. Every time she tried to recite a Catholic prayer, the entity shattered more of her bones, and the more broken her body became, the stronger the possession grew. Evil was consuming her.

Her faith was gone; no trace remained of the gentle shepherd girl who once carried the Lord in her heart. Prayers, hymns, the creed—all had been banished from her soul. Her mind could only echo darkness, adoration of the demon, and, above all, she recited from memory every chant the entity forced her to say. Her prayer had become her new faith: the shadows embraced her with claws and fangs.

By her own will, Olivia decided to sell her soul to the devil himself, and when she did, the floor cracked open. From the fissures emerged hands that gripped her by the feet, pulling her down forever. Her faith had been consumed.

When all seemed lost, a group of devout women appeared in the middle of the town square, surrounding the entity. Each held a lantern in her left hand, its flame fueled by sacred wood, and in her right, a rosary bathed in holy water. Together, in unison, they began to pray and exorcize the demon that possessed Olivia. Hours upon hours of prayer followed — an eternity of torment for the girl, but also for the man who had served as the vessel of evil.

With the first rays of dawn, just as they finished the prayer that Olivia had never been able to complete, the entity let out a monstrous bellow that the girl echoed perfectly. Their combined roar resounded across the entire region. The evil had been purged.

Holy Saturday had begun: the clouds dispersed, the birds sang, and the townspeople emerged from their homes to embrace once more.

The possessed man turned out to be the village priest himself. And it is said that Olivia never recovered from that night. She remained locked in her room forever, playing with her dolls for all eternity—condemned to relive that tragic Good Friday every single night.