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In a monastery in Cologne, there once resided a brother famous for his power to cast out demons. One time, when he was exorcising a demon out of a man, the demon asked for a place to go. The monk jokingly exclaimed, “Go to my privy!” That night, as the brother relieved himself, he was unmercifully attacked by the demon and barely escaped with his life. An archaic superstition holds that every privy is the abode of an unclean spirit that sometimes lodges itself in the hinder parts of the body. One possessed of this kind of demon is afflicted with sulfur-smelling gas that is expelled with forceful roaring and a “sort of ball” voided at the anus.

According to the Compendium Maleficarum, devils hate the sound of bells, the Devil appeared to a certain Italian monk in a remote monastery. He began to relentlessly tempt the monk until the monastery bells rang. Upon hearing the sound, the Devil plunged with great speed and violence into the privy, which was close at hand. It appears that the privy may be the natural habitat of Satan.


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Partner to a press called Tenement, Hotel is a publications series for new approaches to fiction, non fiction & poetry & features work from established & emerging talent. Hotel provides the space for experimental reflection on literature’s status as art & cultural mediator. 

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