Gambling Hansel

In a bustling market town where merchants came and went with their colorful wares, there lived a man named Hansel who had one consuming passion that ruled his entire life—gambling. From dawn until deep into the night, Hansel could be found at the gaming tables, rolling dice, playing cards, or making wagers on anything from horse races to the weather.

Hansel had once been a prosperous craftsman with a thriving workshop, a comfortable home, and a loving wife. But his addiction to gambling had slowly consumed everything he held dear. One by one, he had lost his tools, his shop, his furniture, and finally even his house to pay his gambling debts.

“Please, Hansel,” his wife would plead with tears in her eyes, “stop this madness before we lose everything we have worked for.”

But Hansel would wave away her concerns with a confident smile. “Don’t worry, my dear,” he would say, his eyes already gleaming with the anticipation of the next game. “I can feel it in my bones—tonight will be the night I win back everything we’ve lost, and more besides!”

Yet night after night, Hansel would return home empty-handed, having lost whatever coins he had managed to scrape together during the day. His wife grew thinner and more worried, their clothes became ragged, and soon they had nothing left but the clothes on their backs.

One particularly cold winter evening, when Hansel had lost his last copper coin at the tavern’s card table, he wandered through the snowy streets feeling more desperate than ever before. The other gamblers had finally grown tired of his empty promises to pay his debts, and no one would allow him to join their games anymore.

“What am I to do?” he muttered to himself, his breath forming white clouds in the frigid air. “I cannot live without the thrill of the game, but I have nothing left to wager.”

As he walked past the old cemetery at the edge of town, he noticed a strange, flickering light coming from among the ancient tombstones. Curious despite his troubles, Hansel climbed over the low stone wall and made his way toward the mysterious glow.

There, sitting on a weathered gravestone, was a figure unlike any Hansel had ever seen. The being appeared to be a man, but his clothes were fine beyond description—velvet coat adorned with golden buttons, silk stockings, and shoes that gleamed like polished obsidian. Most unsettling of all were his eyes, which seemed to glow with an inner fire.

“Good evening, Hansel,” said the stranger in a voice as smooth as honey. “You look like a man with troubles weighing heavy on his heart.”

Hansel started in surprise. “How do you know my name? And who are you to be sitting in a graveyard at this hour?”

The stranger smiled, revealing teeth that were perhaps a bit too white and a bit too sharp. “I know many things, my friend. I know that you love to gamble more than anything else in the world. I know that you have lost everything you once possessed. And I know that you would give anything for one more chance to play.”

“That’s all true,” admitted Hansel, drawn in despite his unease. “But what business is it of yours?”

“I am someone who appreciates a fellow lover of games,” replied the stranger, producing a deck of cards that seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. “Perhaps we could play a hand or two together?”

Hansel’s pulse quickened at the sight of the cards. “I would love nothing more, but I’m afraid I have nothing left to wager. I’ve lost everything I owned.”

The stranger’s smile grew wider. “Ah, but you still possess something of great value—your soul. Would you be willing to wager that?”

A chill ran down Hansel’s spine that had nothing to do with the winter cold. “My soul? What manner of game would require such a stake?”

“A simple game of cards,” said the stranger casually. “We play until one of us has won everything. If you win, I will give you a purse that will never be empty—you will have unlimited wealth to gamble with for the rest of your life. If I win, your soul becomes mine.”

Despite every instinct telling him to flee, Hansel found himself nodding. The compulsion to gamble was stronger than his fear, and the thought of unlimited wealth to wager was too tempting to resist.

“Very well,” he said, sitting down on a fallen tombstone across from the mysterious stranger. “Deal the cards.”

For hours they played beneath the cold stars, and to Hansel’s amazement, he found himself winning hand after hand. The stranger seemed genuinely surprised by this turn of events, and as dawn approached, Hansel had won an enormous pile of gold coins that the stranger had produced from thin air.

“It seems luck favors you tonight,” said the stranger with what appeared to be grudging admiration. “Very well, you have won fairly. Here is your prize.”

He handed Hansel a small leather purse that looked quite ordinary. “No matter how much you spend from this purse, it will always refill itself by morning. You now have unlimited wealth to satisfy your gambling desires.”

Hansel clutched the purse to his chest, hardly believing his good fortune. “And my soul remains my own?”

“For now,” said the stranger with a knowing smile. “But remember, Hansel—every game has its price, and every winning streak must eventually come to an end.”

With those ominous words, the stranger vanished like morning mist, leaving Hansel alone in the cemetery with his magical purse.

For several months, Hansel’s life was everything he had ever dreamed it could be. The purse never failed to provide him with gold whenever he needed it, and he became the most successful gambler in the region. He won back his house, bought fine clothes for himself and his wife, and lived in luxury.

But gradually, Hansel began to notice that his extraordinary luck at the gaming tables was fading. He started losing more often, and the other gamblers became suspicious of his seemingly endless supply of gold. Worse still, he began to have terrible nightmares about burning fires and shadowy figures calling his name.

His wife, though grateful for their restored prosperity, became concerned about the change in her husband’s demeanor. “You seem troubled, Hansel,” she observed one evening. “Ever since your fortunes changed so suddenly, you’ve been restless and fearful. How did you come by this magic purse?”

Finally, unable to bear the weight of his secret any longer, Hansel told his wife about his encounter in the graveyard and the bargain he had made.

His wife paled with horror. “Oh, Hansel! You’ve made a deal with the Devil himself! No good can come of this—you must find a way to break this terrible contract!”

As if summoned by their conversation, the stranger appeared in their parlor that very night, his eyes glowing more fiercely than before.

“Good evening, Hansel,” he said with his unsettling smile. “I trust you have enjoyed the benefits of our arrangement?”

“What do you want?” asked Hansel, though he already feared he knew the answer.

“It’s time for another game,” replied the stranger. “Your luck has been running quite well, but all winning streaks must come to an end. Shall we play once more—double or nothing? Win, and you keep the purse and your soul forever. Lose, and both become mine immediately.”

Hansel’s wife grabbed his arm. “Don’t do it, Hansel! You have enough wealth to last a lifetime. Don’t risk everything again!”

But the compulsion to gamble was too strong, and the stranger’s challenge too tempting to resist. “One final game,” agreed Hansel, his hands already reaching for the cards.

This time, however, Hansel’s luck had indeed run out. Hand after hand, he found himself losing, until finally he had nothing left but his soul to wager with. The stranger smiled triumphantly as he laid down his winning hand.

“And so our business is concluded,” said the Devil, for that was indeed who he was. “Your soul is now mine, as agreed.”

But just as the Devil reached out to claim his prize, Hansel’s wife stepped forward with tears streaming down her face.

“Wait!” she cried. “I’ve heard that even the Devil must honor certain rules. Is it not true that a soul freely given in love is worth more than one taken through trickery and gambling?”

The Devil paused, intrigued. “What are you suggesting?”

“I freely give my soul to save my husband’s,” she declared. “Surely the soul of one who sacrifices herself for love is worth more than that of a gambling addict?”

The Devil considered this for a moment, then began to laugh—a sound like breaking glass. “Clever woman! You are quite correct. A soul given in pure love is indeed more valuable than one lost to vice.”

But then his expression grew thoughtful. “However, such genuine love and sacrifice are so rare and precious that they actually have the power to redeem. Your willingness to give your soul for your husband’s has shown that he is capable of inspiring true love, which means he is not beyond salvation.”

The Devil began to fade away, but his voice remained clear. “I release you both from our bargain. But remember, Hansel—you have been given a second chance through your wife’s love. Do not waste it.”

As the Devil vanished completely, the magic purse crumbled to dust in Hansel’s hands. But for the first time in years, he felt truly free.

From that day forward, Hansel never gambled again. He returned to his craft, worked honestly to support his family, and never forgot the lesson he had learned about the true value of love over the false promise of easy wealth.

The couple lived simply but happily for the rest of their days, and Hansel would often tell others about his experience, warning them about the dangers of addiction and the importance of appreciating what they already had.

“Remember,” he would always conclude, “no amount of gold is worth risking your soul for, and the greatest treasure in life is the love of those who care about you enough to sacrifice everything to save you.”

And though they never became wealthy again, Hansel and his wife were rich in the things that truly mattered—love, respect, and the wisdom that comes from learning from one’s mistakes.