1

Here they were: the drunks and the sinners, the gambling men
and the grifters, the big-time spenders, the skirt chasers, and all
the jolly crew. They knew where they were going, of course, but
they didn’t seem to be particularly concerned at the moment.
The blinds were drawn on the windows, yet it was light inside,
and they were all sitting around and singing and passing the
bottle and laughing it up, telling their jokes and bragging their
brags, just the way Daddy used to sing about them in the old
song.
“Mighty nice traveling companions,” Martin said. “Why, I’ve
never seen such a pleasant bunch of people. I mean, they seem
to be really enjoying themselves!”
“Sorry,” the conductor told him. “I’m afraid things may not
be quite so enjoyable once we pull into that Depot Way Down
Yonder.”
–Robert Bloch (That Hell-Bound Train)

1

“Of glass it is,” replied the man, sighing more heavily than ever; “but the glass of it was tempered in the flames of hell. An imp lives in it, and that is the shadow we behold there moving: or so I suppose. If any man buy this bottle the imp is at his command; all that he desires—love, fame, money, houses like this house, ay, or a city like this city—all are his at the word uttered. Napoleon had this bottle, and by it he grew to be the king of the world; but he sold it at the last, and fell. Captain Cook had this bottle, and by it he found his way to so many islands; but he, too, sold it, and was slain upon Hawaii. For, once it is sold, the power goes and the protection; and unless a man remain content with what he has, ill will befall him.”–Robert Louis Stevenson (The Bottle Imp)