III: Requiem for a DemonHave you ever been on a bender? Not one of those quiet bar or drinking at home things, an honest-to-gods full-blown drinking binge lasting all night and waking up in such pain that it feels like your whole body is trying to forcefully turn itself inside out? When I came to, it felt like benders back-to-back for a full year. Before one could blink, I had upended my stomach – which turned out to be mostly blood. Pain and agony, things that used to bring me so much joy in inflicting upon others, wracked my body. I wanted to scream badly, a piercing cry that would shatter the rooftops and probably a good number of bodies along the way. Only…I couldn't.
Slowly, a feeling returned to me other than the blinding pain, something cold and hard. My arms were pressed awkwardly against my back, and I could feel thick heavy chains running from my neck to my wrists between my shoulderblades. Chained. Like a bloody animal. Anger rose up in my throat this time, and I forced myself to rise. I felt my ha
II: So Dark the Sins of ManAh, I can still hear the man's screams in my head now. I had taken him into my conveniently magickally soundproofed apartment for a little bit of Q&A about his organization. Namely, their headquarters, their boss (you wouldn't believe how many automatically insert a religious figure in that last statement, and then wonder why I laugh so hard) and how long they think it would take me to carve their internal organs into cubic inches. And yet you stare at me so oddly. We have hobbies too, you know. It wasn't long before I had everything I needed and the young man was a quivering mass of nerves and waking nightmares that were just sitting in his head, waiting for me to enjoy. It turns out that Catholic Priests aren't the only ones suspected of sodomizing their alter boys.
I didn't bother changing. Instead, I just took a simple trenchcoat out to wear. I heard the New York rooftops could get pretty chilly fifty stories up. I left the young man wandering Lake Shore Drive, muttering and scream
Losing ControlI'm closing my eyes
I'm so sick of the lies
Society hides us
Tries to make us believe
Had enough of this disguise
I've seen the hate inside
It's so disgusting how we're
All so untrusting
I can't take it anymore
I feel my sanity go
I'm losing control
I can't think like they told me to
I'll never feel whole
After all that they've put me through
That's why I'm losing control.
Who am I?Who am I?
Black robed mage?
Who am I?
I am the black-robed mage
The Dark One with his steely gaze
The master of present and past.
I am the master of but sand
When I see I'm the exocutioner
And the hanged man.
Who am I?
I am but a man.
I can see her face, touch her skin
Feel her love, the pain within
I distance those who would aid me.
But in my darkness, I see a light
Is she the one who can banish the night?
Who am I?
I am the fraud.
A cold-hearted killer frail and weak
I trick others to kill for me
The evil one, the Sly One they say.
It wasn't that long ago when I
Was the one with helpless cry.
My brother, you are no fraud!
Though your heart is black, body gone,
Your soul is strong! It called out to me.
Though the leagues are between us
And you are a world away,
I can still hear your last yawn,
As you closed your eyes to this world anon.
I: The Apocalypse is Next WeekNote to self: next time one comes up with the idea of going sight-seeing in New York City, remind one to never do it again. The bigger the building, the more likely it is to have some crazed cult on the top floor.
I don't like it when I lose. Who would, really? One minute everything's fine, then BAM! You're bound and gagged in the middle of a summoning circle by….well, I get ahead of myself.
It started simply enough. I got bored in the wonderful metropolis that was Chicago circa 1982. As the humans so delightfully put it, "Nothing good was on." So, as a demon such as myself is wont to do when there's nothing good on, I stirred up some trouble to see what I could find.
When a demon gets bored, they usually go cult-hunting. And I know what you're thinking: aren't cults good for beings like me? Not these ones. The ones demons go after hide behind a cross more often than ankhs or any other symbol the masses tend to shy away from. With it being the 1980s, it wasn't that hard to find.