~ by Hannah Skipper
My Dears Garrotte, Brank, Pillory, and Leasprink,
I’m writing to you all about a matter of grave concern, so I won’t waste time on silly pleasantries. The four of you are on the cusp of a very dangerous situation, so listen up. Because of this amusing little war that the Human vermin are fighting, your patients have been sent to the home of one of our Enemy’s most vile accomplices. This Human varmint is simply a brute and, unfortunately, he has done more against our cause than you might think possible. He has even gone so far as to become a college professor, which is a profession that our side prefers to dominate.
But let me go back and explain a bit of the old swine’s history, so that you’ll know what you’re up against. As a child, he was amusing enough to watch, although on the whole, he wasn’t particularly helpful to our cause. The change—for the worse, I must add—came one day when your colleague, Picquet, who has the task of managing his soul for us, lost track of him for a minute. Let me caution you against a similar mistake. Picquet was punished quite harshly for his ineptitude and, quite frankly, he should have been taken off the job because he has been downright ineffective ever since. Do I need to even mention that the four of you will be punished far more harshly if you display a similar incompetence?
Now, this is the strange part and, I regret to say, we don’t really understand it even though our Research Department has been looking into it for decades. You see, in that moment, Picquet’s little brute and his so-called friend, who I must add is no better than him and must be watched very closely, seem to have met with the Enemy Himself. I know, it doesn’t seem possible, does it? Yet, there is simply no other way to account for the change that occurred in those two little beasts. Poor Picquet and Denailion, who manages this so-called friend’s soul for us, have had the most terrible time with their patients ever since, and they often despair over their punishment should their failure become complete. Frankly, I anticipate devouring them.
But I digress. As you might imagine, I’m writing to you so that you may avoid this fate because I care very much about you and, naturally, I want you all to be able to present your patient’s souls, when the time comes, to Our Father Below.
You need only to heed my advice to make that possible.
First, you must try to keep your patients as far away from the Enemy’s old accomplice as possible. This is very easily done, even if they are staying in his home. You can simply suggest to them that the old varmint dislikes children and that they will cause trouble if they disturb him. If they start to wonder why he took them into his home in the first place, then you should suggest that he did it out of patriotic duty. Not love. Certainly, never love.
If, through some unfortunate circumstance, your patients strike up a relationship with the old swine, then you must see to it that it is a relationship based on pity for him because he is past his prime, and not out of genuine interest in him. To this end, you should suggest to them that he doesn’t really understand their world. Suggest that they should only tolerate him, not believe what he says.
Now, after you have encouraged them to merely tolerate and pity him for his backward illogical ideas, then you can progress to the next step, which is encouraging them to not tolerate him. This part will be really fun for you if you’re competent enough to pull it off. It will certainly be fun for me to watch, unless of course, you’re too stupid to handle it. Then I’ll blow my top.
Anyway, all you have to do to accomplish this is suggest to them that the old coot is tiresome. After all, why should they be subjected to his illogical stories day in and day out? Shouldn’t they be allowed to have some peace and quiet?
Well, now you know what you’re facing, so I’ll sign off. After all, with a war on, I’m plenty busy these days and can’t be expected watch all my little pupils’ every move. As always, keep me informed about the progress that you’re making and let me know if you need any more of my brilliant advice.
Your affectionate Uncle,
Screwtape
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Author’s Notes: This is a letter to the Pevensies’ demons collectively, written before they go to Narnia. I will explain their names after each of their individual letters.