A demon from the pits–some lowly, ghastly creature, I was at first.
And then I rose. Through the pain and torment of others I prevailed. I learned but one thing; in this world and the next, your suffering knows no bound, and no one will be there to cool the agonizing burns you’ve acquired.
In life, I was nothing. A nobody. And that is how I died–as nothing.
But in the pits I was determined. This was the lowest I could go. So, I would be terrible, a truly horrible thing. I would claw, fight, maim, murder and devastate the poor souls condemned to eternal torment.
I was their Hell.
And why should I care? I am a demon. Perhaps not before, but now I am. If I drink the water of the soul and the blood of the body, I know I will gain power.
Will I live again? Perhaps that too is possible.
I wander the torn, burning lands of the underworld in search of answers. When I get back, i’ll turn my life around from what it once was. I will not be just a nobody, I will be fear and agony made real.
I think the only way for me to get any once of feeling now is through the pain of others.
Is it wrong? I know the afterlife. I’ve seen the good mother, the devout father, and the innocent child writhing in the fires.
That is because there is no light; no heaven. This place is not ruled by any God or devil.
We created a fairy tale, a myth of a calm and serene afterlife to comfort us. But there is only one thing waiting–suffering.
That is why the dead torment us. We are all striving to get back.
Human lives are so short. Too short, I say.
Let me live again and perhaps I can make sense of our beating hearts and why we feel, think, and breathe.
Bring me back and we’ll see if evil yet lives.