Have I ever told you about the Monk living on the hill and the tiny pickle in a jar?

Once upon a time there was a Monk who lived on a hill. He lived a simple life and was quite content, nothing out of the ordinary ever seemed to happen in his life. However, one day as he was settling down to watch his favourite shows with a mug of hot cocoa, he saw on the weather channel that a horrible storm was headed in his direction. He thought nothing of it and went to bed later that night. In the early hours of the morning, however, he was awoken by a loud banging on his front door, he threw on his robe and slippers before running downstairs to answer the door. Upon opening the door he was met by a homeless man who asked for refuge during the storm as his home was the only shelter for miles. Being a religious and kind man, the Monk saw to the homeless man and gave him the spare bed before going back to bed. The next morning the Monk decided he would treat the homeless man to breakfast in bed as he figured he had been through a lot. He knocked on the spare bedroom door, although there was no answer. He entered the room and immediately dropped his prepared breakfast in horror as he saw that there was blood smeared on the bed and the curtains, no sight of the homeless man and a tiny pickle in a jar in the corner of the room. Perplexed and with no explanation, the Monk proceeded to clean the mess and carry on with his life, trying to explain this unfortunate series of events to himself. The next night the Monk was once again awoken by a loud banging on his front door. When he answered he was confronted by another homeless man also seeking refuge. Once again here obliged and provided shelter. The next morning he went to check on his guest and found the exact same scene he saw the previous morning. Blood stained curtains and bed sheets, no sign of his guest and a tiny little pickle in a jar in the corner of the room. The Monk vowed to not allow this to happen again and after cleaning up the mess and going to bed the following night, He was awoken one final time by a banging on his front door and immediately answered it exclaiming "no no no! You cannot stay here, I will not allow another catastrophe in my home!". To his surprise, the Monk noticed he was not speaking to a homeless man, but rather a small gentlemen with a long beard and pointy hat. The man said "listen here, Monk. Do you want to know why every time you let a homeless person seek refuge in your house, you wind up with blood stained curtains and bed sheets, the absence of a guest and a tiny little pickle in a jar in the corner of the room?". "YES! More than anything! Please tell me!", the Monk gasped. The man replied, "I shall tell you, but you must promise not to tell another living soul as long as you live.". "I promise", said the Monk.

And he never did.