Fire Within

There has been an awakening,
within my soul.
A fire ignited,
sparked by you.
Feelings I forgot existed,
memories flooded over me.
My dearest friend,
my one inspiration.
Your rawness never ceases to amaze,
and lest we forget your alluring gaze.
I feel as though I'm treading old ground,
but there is room to build more.
It's not about lust,
It's about trust.
You will overcome this obstacle,
because nothing can stand in your way.
And if you ever find yourself in need,
never falter to ask for my aid.
I don't know if I'm just rambling,
my thoughts are always shambling.
I just know that I've always felt this way,
and I don't know that it'll ever change.
You were my fire and inspiration,
and now I feel it again.
I truly do love you,
I hope you know that.
This is the only way I know how to say it,
so I figured why delay it.
I'm just writing down my feelings now,
raw and unabashed.
It's a natural release this though,
one that lifts it off my soul.
You helped me feel inspiration again,
and I'd consider that a win.
I don't know how to end things,
so maybe this is just the beginning.

Dead Air

The chilling in the air,
The darkness consuming.
Destroyed hopes and dreams,
Crushed and burned away.
The reaper consumes the soul,
Tearing it from the empty body.
Watching, waiting, looming,
He stalks the youngest pray.
Children, the young blood,
Smelling so sweet to his senses.
Breathing, the patterns,
Aiding in his search.
The darkness continues to grow,
Sucking up the light, destroying the hope.
Blurred vision, so unexpected,
He blinds the victims.
His temperature rises,
Closing in on the prey.
Appearing, reappearing,
Like a mist that evaporates.
Invisible to the prey,
Closer and closer he gets.
Abducting the prey,
Taking their mind away from them.
Subjective mind destruction,
Unknown fate awaits this child.
Tentacles wrapping around their body,
Lifting them away from reality.
The smell of death emanates from within this place.
Where did the child go?
Where did the child go?
Where could it possibly be.
All we can know,
All we can see.
Death emanates.
Death imitates.
The chilling in the air,
The darkness consuming.
The child is gone,
Innocence taken at such a young age.
He waits for his next victim,
Too blind to see their fate.
Too blind to know what will happen.
The air is dead here,
Until the next prey comes to his senses

Demon Hunt

The cold and musky air struck through us; bitter like the winter weather. Onward we marched, looking for shelter in the burned and disassembled buildings. All Hell had arisen here, in our once peaceful town; many were lost, and even more mutilated. Decrepit corpses covered the icy landscape, fresh blood glistening in the light of the burnt buildings.

“This is hopeless, we’re facing a force that can’t be stopped, and we may as well accept fate. These monsters are going to rip us apart, tear us limb from fucking limb.” I screamed to my colleague, who ignored me, and simply muttered, “We must continue.”

Charlie was determined, after what had happened. After working a hard day, I came home to see my girlfriend cradling our child. I didn't know which was more frightening: seeing my dead girlfriend and stillborn child or knowing that someone broke into my house to place them there. Ever since that fateful turn of events, Charlie has vowed to help me get revenge; to send these fowl beasts back to their rightful home in Hell. We still don’t know how it happened, but it was horrifying. I could barely recognize the corpse as hers…. And our poor son, Skyler, ripped of his chance at living a fruitful and laborious existence on this once blessed Earth.

We came to a bridge that looked unstable; its floor creaked and cracked at the touch of our feet. The old wood gave way to the wind, swaying endlessly.

“Must we continue this way friend,” I whined.

“Do you want revenge or not? Would you rather we lay down and just let these foul beasts rape and kill everyone else that may be alive?” Charlie snapped, determination soaking his every last word.

“No.” Is all I could reply with; it was his idea after all, and he was very up to the challenge; or so he thought.

We had no weapons to speak of, other than the makeshift blade we sawed out of wooden stakes. If we even stood half a chance at killing these monsters, they shouldn’t have been able to murder fully trained militia.

We got across the bridge successfully, just to have it snap on us, entrapping us on this side of a crevice that’s higher than the Empire State Building.

“Well, guess we won’t be going back that way, better carry onward.” Charlie said, reassuringly.

“Yeah, guess so.” I said, unsure of what laid ahead of us.

We passed piles of bodies, burning and permeating in their own boiling flesh. I cringed at the sight, and the smell of such horrors. This atrocity will not go unnoticed, and we will put a stop to it; I thought to myself. I noticed we had reached a building, some sort of screwed up looking church. Barbed wire rose out from under an inverted cross, set ablaze, and dripping with blood and chunks of flesh. Soon after, I realized there was a sign, it read “Set free the souls, in the blood of perdition.” What kind of Hell are we walking into?

“Charlie, I have a bad feeling about this place man.” I said, clinging to him.

“Yeah, so do I, but these freaks are probably in there. And if we’re going to get this done, we’re doing it now, no regrets, and no pussying out.” Charlie said.

I could see the sparkle of determination in his deep hazel eyes, the kind not oft seen. Sure, we were risking our lives to save people who may not even be alive, but I’ll be damned if we weren’t proud of it.

We bashed in the door, like a couple of action hero’s sworn to duty. The interior of the church was decaying, rotting like the flesh that surrounded it. Paint was peeling off the walls, the piles that were once pristine, now rotting and burning. There were bodies on display like some sort of messed up BDSM fantasy scene; dead corpses hanging by their own intestines, and spikes coming out of every wall, blood dripping off of each and every one. There, in the middle, they stood, burning.

“WE HAVE COME TO DESTROY YOU, FOUL ONES, FOR YOU HAVE TAKEN THAT WHICH WE HOLD DEAR AND PERVERTED IT, TO FULFILL YOUR OWN SICK FANTASIES.” Charlie screamed, as if he was preaching to them.

The beasts looked at him for a brief second, and then scoffed. Their skin was ablaze, and rotting into a morph of flame and hellish nightmare flesh. Horns rose from their skulls, and they were covered in the blood of the innocent civilians they had killed. Just one look at them would turn any mere mortal to flee, but we were no mere mortals. We were one with them, and disagreed with their ways.

“YOU HAVE TAKEN OUR ONCE NON JUDGEMENTAL SPIRIT, AND PERVERTED IT INTO THIS. YOU ARE DESTRUCTIVE, INCONSIDERATE AND PRIMAL BEASTS. YOU ARE WORSE THAN THE HUMANS.” Charlie screamed louder than before.

The beasts laughed at us, and replied. “You fools, you mingle with these disgusting and pitiful humans, and for that we pity you. Your girlfriend tasted delicious by the way, just the right mix of flesh and barbeque.” The leader laughed uproariously.

“THAT’S IT, YOU WILL PAY. THIS ENDS HERE.” I shouted, running at the leader; retracting the claws from my flesh and revealing my true form. My skin morphed into that of theirs, and I revealed myself to them.

“Not impressed.” The leader scoffed.

We met in the middle of the church, in a fiery blaze of blood. His claws struck me in my shoulder, digging at the flesh and cutting into my bone. I felt his darkness creeping into my very soul, trying to corrupt my mind like his. I fought the urge, and dug my claw into this sternum; twisting into this flesh and ripping out his stomach.

“Give it up; you’ve never stood a chance against me.” I said, triumphantly.

My claws dug into his body further, until I had reached the other end. I felt the popping of his spine, shattering as I ripped it from his body. He retaliated, digging his horn into my skull, trying to merge with me. I felt his soul violating mine; the worst bond that one could ever experience. This demon, this hellish beast of nightmares, had to be destroyed. I knew it, in my very bones.

“Face it, you can’t defeat me, this is my true form. I am not in a measly vessel, like you. You should have possessed someone with a little more meat, no pun intended.” He said, as he ripped through my vessel’s flesh.

I cast myself out of the vessel, and appeared before him in my true form.

“Fine, we’ll play your way.”

Meanwhile, in the background, Charlie had already taken care of his little cronies. I had been too preoccupied to notice it until just now. And he was about ready to sneak up on the beast, before he had noticed. The leader turned to Charlie and immediately began tearing his vessel apart, limb from limb. In a mess of blood and flesh, I watched as my best friend was ripped apart. His soul had been in the vessel for so long; he had merged with it, and could not escape. I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t get to him in time, the demon was too quick.

“GET OFF OF HIM.” I howled, hurling my claws into his body.

“You’re too late, and, I have a date with the Devil. I’ll be leaving now.” He said, as he evaporated into thin air.

I crawled over to my once best friend, and examined his mangled body. I knew he was dead, but somehow, I didn’t feel remorse. After all, he got us all into this mess in the first place. If he didn’t want to become a demon hunting bad ass, all these people would still be alive. I knew I shouldn’t have lent him that summoning book….

Emptiness Consumes

I am a vessel,
taken over by guilt.
Taken, by the darkness,
it resides in all of us.
The world is part of it,
darkness consuming all.
Will we see the light?
Before the void takes it.
One may ask themselves this,
no reply is given.
Empty, we all are.
Devoid of life,
feeling,
emotion,
hope.
Dead flesh,
walking through motions.
Emptiness consumes us all,
we just don't realize it...

The Depraved Mind

(I wrote this short story one night, it contains some NSFW language, and dark themes, read at your own discretion.)

The blood, it glistened on the blade, as if it was put there by a divine intervention between the devil and god himself. I shuddered as a chill went down my spine. It felt so good; it felt right. This was all a terrible accident, but it wasn’t just the situation that felt right. It was the whole entire damn action. The cutting of flesh into bone, the slicing of the skin; everything felt fantastic. I have to remember, what the hell caused this. We were fighting, we always fight. But something was different this time, something went farther in my psyche than normal. He just, he took one step too far this time. The lying, and the screaming, it never gets easier; but why did I go this far? And why the hell does it feel so amazing? Am I…. am I getting off on this? How sick it is to even think about that, but how intimate this all was. Like a tango, ending with his entrails wrapped about his legs. So subtle at first, the lamp smashing into his skull. The table falling, as he attempted to crawl away. Leaping onto him, and stabbing his back with the hair trimming scissors. Cutting him away like all of lifes problems before this.

 This will never be easy, nothing in life is. At least, I don’t think it will be. Not if I don’t do something about it. Gotta hide the body, gotta hide it, and get away. Make it look like a messed up murder, like I barely escaped. There’s claw marks on the table, that’ll do for covering up struggle. Maybe… maybe smash a few more holes in the floor, really go for it. Yes, good, that’s good. Acid, we have some acidic compounds down in the basement, he always was obsessed with chemistry. I never understood his fascination with acidic compounds specifically. Said he was gonna change the world somehow, but he’s just a drunkard with no future. God, is this a confession? Gotta get focused here…. the body, get rid of it. Fuck making a struggle, I just need to get rid of the body, no one will ever know. Gotta pour the acid, yeah, that looks good. Now, if I just set it up in this tub over here, soak his body in it for a bit, dissolve what little is left of it. So disgusting, his flesh already looks rotten, and his intestines are torn to shreds. Did I really do this to him? Why do I enjoy this so much? God….. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH ME. UGH. AHHH. I LOVE THIS. Hahahhahahaha. Just douse the fucker in acid. Yes. His body is gone, and I’m home scott free. Hahahahhaha. This is fantastic. I can go. I am free. This fucking asshole doesn’t have me anymore.

Now I can be happy, and have free will. I won’t let this corrupted fuck have any control over me anymore. I can find a nice guy, bed down for a while, and…. yeah…. when he fucks me over like this asshole…. I always have a way out…. I know how to do this now. It kinda gets me a little…. giddy. I…. am finally free….

Love is Forever

Story By: Booth

Edited by: Caitlin Stock

A Foreword from the Author Tristan Booth: Thank you all for waiting so long for this story. I know it was something I said I started working on about a month ago. But it was a process, and I think it’s finally fit for everyone to read. Thank you to my amazing friend Caitlin for editing this thing and making it readable. She inspired me to make the ending better too, so thank her for that since the original ending was pretty mediocre. Without further distraction, go ahead and read my first complete short story in 4 years. I hope you enjoy, and remember, it’s just fiction…

Love Is Forever

The moonlight bounced off the lens of his binoculars, as he sat atop the large oak tree that rose into the night sky. The wood was peeling off slightly, a sign of the trees old age. He was dressed in low cut black jeans that had just been pressed, a black t shirt with a simple graphic design on it, and some black sneakers. It seemed that the color black was his motif, so as not to draw attention to himself. He was one with the night sky, blending in perfectly like a chameleon in human form. After all, he was up here to spy on someone. Tonight was Valentine's Day and he had longed for one woman for quite some time.

It all began almost a year ago, when he first laid eyes on her in the grocery store. He was there picking up a few things, when he noticed her down the aisle. She had just dropped something she was carrying and bent down to pick it up. Of course, being the gentleman that he was, he decided to offer her some assistance.

"Need a hand, ma’am?" he asked politely, gesturing to the things on the ground. She took a while to gather herself to a proper level of composure and politely refused his offer. However, he wasn't taking no for an answer. He insisted on helping her pick up her things and, in doing so, engaged in polite conversation with her.

"So, where are you from?" he asked, gesturing her to walk and talk with him after they'd finished picking up her things.

"Just around this area. I grew up here," she said, sparing the specifics.

"Well, that's nice. I'm not from these parts. I grew up in another town," he said, walking alongside her and keeping up with her strides.

"That's cool, I suppose. We don't get many visitors here," she said, a bit suspiciously.

"Yes, well, I was just visiting some family in the area and they wanted me to pick up some groceries,” he stated, to the bemusement of the woman.

“Well, sounds like a typical day then, eh?” she said, chuckling slightly.

As they carried on about the area, they developed a friendship. They proceeded to exchange names, and even exchanged phone numbers so they could meet up sometime in the future.

"So, if you ever would like to visit, or hang out sometime, I'd be glad to give you a call," said Melissa shyly.

"Sure, that'd be great. I’ll have to swing by for dinner sometime," said Scott, laughing timidly. And thus, an obsession was born.

A year has passed since that day and they never really visited much. In fact, they only ever talked once after that. However, to say that Scott hadn't seen his fair share of Melissa would be false. Here he sits in the trees across the way, binocular in hand, camera to the side, about to snap inappropriate and lewd pictures of the woman he's admired from afar so long.

"Yes. That's good, get undressed. That's just what I'm looking for," he said to himself under his breath. "God, it's like she knows that someone is watching."

Melissa was slowly taking her clothing off and getting ready to take a shower and Scott was with her every step of the way. He was snapping picture after picture of her in every position imaginable. He thought something was a little off with her shower, as it appeared the water had a strange red tinge, but he imagined it was just the lighting. Either way, he'd got what he came here for, just like every other week for the past few months. Tonight, however, was a special time, because it was Valentines Day. 

Scott climbed down the tree and headed back home, having scored the pictures that he cared about. He drove a 1977 Dodge Charger, because he enjoyed his classic cars. He could afford to be in the lap of luxury and, yet, he was in love with a simple country girl. He was more obsessed, really, but Scott didn't think of it that way. He approached it as if it was a project, an experiment in socializing. It was his own sick little game.

On the drive home, he was considering all of his options for these pictures, like where he could hide them, what he could do to himself while looking at them, and even simple things like how amazing they were. Modesty wasn't something Scott is good at, as he thought everything he did was god-like.

He pulled up into the driveway of his house, his car tires crunching on the gravel pathway leading up to the 3-bedroom villa he called home. He had bought the house soon after his promotion at the magazine for which he worked. Scott was a professionally known journalist and his name was everywhere. He wasn’t the kind you'd peg for such late night debauchery; he was kind, calm, collected, and most of all, gentlemanly. The skeletons in his closet were not to be talked about, touched, or ever discovered. They would shake the very foundation of who he was, and bring his perfect world crashing down.

The moon was at its peak in the sky and the light poured out onto the greenery in the garden. Primroses, tulips, and daisies bloomed in the spring night. The sight was simply breathtaking. Yet, the air tasted like death, bitter and unrelentingly bland. Scott took note of this and pondered on it for a bit before he opened the rustic and freshly painted door to his home. It creaked open slowly, almost as if it was stubborn to budge.

"What could possibly make this night any different than the last few?" he thought to himself

"Honey, where did you go for so long? You know it's Valentine's Day and we were supposed to have a special night, just the two of us," a voice said from atop the steps. The silhouette of a broad shouldered man was illuminated by the moonlight, his form taking shape as he walked down the steps.

It was Scott's husband, Steven.

"Sorry," said Scott, "I was just picking up some finishing touches for the dinner."

He points to the bag he was carrying, which was enough for Steven to believe him.

"Always the gullible one," Scott thought to himself, as he placed the items on the dinner table.

"Well, are you going to come up here and give me a kiss or what?" said Steven.

Scott semi-reluctantly went upstairs, gave Steven a kiss, and they ate a nice home cooked meal. Steven had just learned how to prepare filet mignon to perfection and they enjoyed every last bite of it. After dinner, they cuddled and watched Netflix, and then went to the bedroom for a little love making. Steven seemed to enjoy it, but Scott was bored of it.

After Steven fell asleep, Scott snuck into his little office space where he keeps his journal clippings and photographs. This place was his sanctuary, somewhere that no one else dared to enter, lest they face Scott’s scorn. He logged onto his laptop and uploaded the photographs he had taken of Melissa onto his cloud storage. He kept a database online, not on the computer, since Steven didn't know anything about cloud storage; he wasn't exactly tech savvy. He figured it was safer this way. He labeled them and put them in a folder called, "Melissa, Pet, Experiment 4." This wasn't the first girl he'd done this with, however. There were a few others before her, but none quite kept his attention this long.

"She could be the one," thought Scott, scrolling through the old experiment folders, his glasses illuminated by the light of the laptop. "She's the only one I've felt for, the only one I've ever developed feelings about," Scott thought to himself. He continued to scroll the old subjects, scoffing at them, and remembering their screams when he attacked them.

"Pain is such a beautiful thing. I loved their screams, but pain is only temporary. Love ... love can last forever. Love is versatile; love heals wounds; love brings us together," he thought to himself, while chuckling lightly at the pictures of women he had tried to love and failed. Each girl, each victim, brutally butchered when he had lost interest in them. The first one bloodied and beaten to death with a mallet. The second Scott had tied to a radiator and slowly and methodically dismembered, administering adrenaline shots to keep her alive through the torture. The third and what he thought to be the final one, he had somehow let slip, but not before leaving his mark on her leg, ripping out her achilles tendon with a crowbar. These women were just toys to him, playthings which he could throw away when he tired of them. But something in him changed after that one, something made him feel alive and whole again. He met his husband. Then he went away from this life for a while, got a house, and a job, just to cover up this dirty past of his. He clawed and clawed himself away from it, hoping to bury this darkness beneath a pile of falsities. But he had finally sank back into his old habits again, Melissa brought out his psychotic instinct once more. She evoked the feelings of victims past, and Scott loved it.

As Scott continued to look through old files of his past victims, he started to realize that he may love Melissa. As these thoughts poured through his mind, a small chuckle grew into sadistic laughter that filled the room. He smiled, closed his laptop, and planned out a course of action for Melissa. She was going to get a special treatment, just like the ones in his past. Melissa would love him before her day was over, whether she knew it or liked it.

The next morning, he awoke and snuck out of the house, careful not to disturb Steven. He got into his car and drove out towards the town Melissa was in. In his back pocket he carried his most concealable weapon: a 5-inch stainless steel switchblade, engraved with his initials. It was still covered in blood from his past victims. The knife had never been washed, since Scott liked to keep a trace of his victims behind as a souvenir. It may seem to some that Scott never changed his ways, but this was something he hadn’t felt in years. This primal feeling is something that had been lurking in his subconscious for years now, but never in the forefront like it was now. He felt giddy as he was heading on his way to Melissa’s house, vivid thoughts of dismembering her slowly filling his mind until it was all he could truly see. He quickly realized he was veering off the road and tried to maintain control of his visions, focusing instead on the road ahead.

“I’m gonna make that bitch beg for every last second of life,” Scott murmured menacingly.

The trees were a blur as Scott raced down the country road to Melissa's house. He wasn't thinking about anything other than how she would taste. His perverted mind already thinking up ways to rid of the evidence, to taste her flesh. Just like the victims in his past, he had planned to eat her body in order to hide his deed. Make her disappear from the earth in every way shape and form.

He pulled up across the street from Melissa's house. He quietly opened his car door and prepared his trunk for occupancy by removing a few miscellaneous items. There he stood, across the street from the woman he had been obsessed with since he first laid eyes on her. Time had a funny way of affecting a person. It could heal, it could decay, or it could downright destroy someone. To the uncanny eye it seemed as though it had done the latter to Scott, his mind full of perverted thoughts racing from within him. However, he was still quite capable of achieving his task with grace, civility, and charm. Inside his mind the thoughts may be perverse, but on the outside he was a stonewall of intelligent grace and beauty. It was this sense of sophistication that gave Scott an edge over his victims. Just like Ted Bundy and other killers before him, he won his victims over with his gentlemanly charm, before he turned to violence and overpowered them time and time again. The game had begun, and the ball is in his court.

“I’ll just walk up to the door, ring the bell, and tell her my car broke down,” he thought to himself, formulating a plan so as not to surprise Melissa with his visit. “Then when she recognizes me, I can act surprised that it’s her,” he thought again, walking up the stone pathway to Melissa’s house.

She lived in a simple rancher that had a sort of charm about it. The door was real oak wood, and the windows had an open and extremely wide pane for a beautiful view of the neighborhood. Scott approached the door and knocked a few times. When there was no answer he rang the doorbell a couple times. Eventually, Melissa came to the door to greet him.

“Hello, ma’am. Sorry to bug you so early, but I’m having some car troubles. Would you mind giving me a jump possibly?” Scott asked in a desperate, near manic voice.

“Scott?” Melissa asked, with a bit of shock in her voice.

“Melissa? Oh, my god. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you lived here! How have you been?” Scott said, acting surprised.

“I’ve been pretty good. It’s been a long time. You never really returned any of my calls so I just figured you lost interest or something,” Melissa stated, unable to believe her own eyes.

She invited Scott into the house so they could catch up. Little did she know that Scott had something special planned for her, something that would make his feelings known to her, whether she accepted them or not. Scott lightly brandished the knife, not revealing it to her, but running his fingers down the blade. A shudder went down his spine as he fantasized what her screams would sound like, and how she’ll taste.

“So, how have things been with you?” Melissa asked, pouring a cup of coffee into a teacup.

“I’ve been well,” said Scott, “I’ve just been doing a lot of photographing. Meeting deadlines is a bitch.” Melissa and Scott both laughed at the joke and grabbed their respective teacups, holding them close and sipping from them occasionally.

They talked and talked for what seemed like hours, but in reality was probably close to only 20 minutes. Melissa seemed timid and a little bit off-kilter. Scott noticed this and decided to try and calm her nerves.

“Is everything okay, Mel? You seem a little nervous,” asked Scott, as he sipped his final drop of coffee.

“No, no, I’m fine,” stated Melissa, seemingly calmer, “It’s just that I was hoping you wouldn’t notice anything wrong with the coffee.”

“Why? What’s wrong with the coffee?” asked Scott, wondering what she could possibly mean. At this moment, he felt something off about his body. It was as if he was swimming in a pool of thick liquid and he couldn’t keep his head up. His whole body started feeling heavy and he could feel himself quickly losing control of his limbs, as if something was holding them down.

“What the fuck did you put in this shit?” he shouted, barely able to keep consciousness.

“You should thank me,” Melissa stated surely, “It’ll help lessen the pain later.”

Just then, Scott could feel his body shutting down. He fell down onto the floor with a thud and lost consciousness completely.

He awoke, his mind racing with thoughts and feelings of pain. As his eyes finally came back to him and he regained his sight, he noticed that he was strapped down to a chair. Around him there were candles arranged in a circle and underneath the chair some sort of symbol was drawn in red liquid. Not too long after looking, he realized he had been cut and his blood was dripping down onto the floor. He quickly pieced together that it was his blood the symbol was drawn with. As Scott came to, he could see a silhouette in front of him barely, resembling someone he’d seen before.

“Oh, good, the subject has awoken,” a voice said from the darkness. The silhouette stepped forward and revealed their face to him. It was his husband, Steven.

“Hello, Scott, I’m guessing you didn’t expect to see me here,” he said, as he pulled out a long curved blade, which shone in the dim light of the room. It was covered in a thick crimson liquid, which Scott could only assume was his blood.

“What the hell are you doing here? What the fuck is going on right now?” shrieked Scott, unable to keep his composure anymore and struggling to break free of his restraints. His primal impulses were backfiring on him, as he only cut himself further on the rope that restrained him. He soon realized it was barbed to keep him from struggling free.

“Always with the questions. You seem like that kind of man,” said Steven, laughing slightly and running his hands across the blade. He brought it to his mouth and licked the blood off, licking his lips. “Oh, Melissa does know how to sharpen a blade well,” he said, cutting his tongue on the knife and licking his own blood right off.

Scott didn’t know what to say to this. He had always trusted that Steven had no knowledge of his dark past.

“Don’t strain your brain too much, victim, you won’t be much use to us with a weakened mental state,” said a female voice from a more distant place.

The woman came down the steps, revealing her face to Scott. Scott had never seen this woman before in his life, but she seemed to be older. She had black hair and a sultry and unnaturally calming voice. She appeared to have a slimming figure, but it was extremely dark in the room and Scott couldn’t make out much. All that was clear to him was the immediate and present danger she seemed to be imposing on him. Scott had to assume either her or Melissa was behind all this, although by this point he didn’t care much about thinking through his situation. He grunted at the woman.

“Who the hell are you and what is going on?” Scott demanded, annoyance apparent in his voice now.

“Who said you could talk?” the woman replied, grabbing the blade from Steven and holding it to Scott’s mouth, threatening to cut out his tongue for another outburst like that.

Scott nodded and decided it was best to stop asking questions. His life was obviously in the hands of these people. “So this is the feeling of being powerless,” Scott thought to himself, fighting back tears.

Just then, Melissa came down the steps, a grim smile on her face. She seemed pleased with the current turn of events.

“Melissa, good work on getting the victim ready, but I could have done without the theatrics,” the older woman said, still calm.

“Sorry Lady Faust, I just wanted his last memory to be one filled with dread and misery,” She said, revealing the old womans name.

“Lady Faust,” Scott thought to himself. A sudden feeling of darkness came over his body, chilling him to the bone. He pondered on the name, until he reached a memory that he had buried away deep within his subconscious. His third victim, the one he let escape. Her last name was Faust.

The older woman noticed Scott’s shocked look and knew that he had come to the realization.

“Ah, so you do remember my daughter, she’s grown up quite a bit since your attack, hasn’t she?” Lady Faust asked, gesturing to Melissa who smiled slightly, unsure how to take the statement. “See, my family has a history of the occult, one that you may not fully understand Scott,” Lady Faust stated, pulling out a grimoire. She also pulled out a dusty old book that read “Faust Generation History”.

“My ancient relatives, alive long before any of us were born, kept this family history book to remind us of the grave misdeeds one particular relative of ours decided to partake in,” Lady Faust said calmly, “That man’s name was Heinrich Faust, someone you may have heard of.”

Scott looked on in confusion, still not quite understanding what the point of all this was. He was queasy from the blood loss and constantly slipping in and out of consciousness due to the lack of oxygen in the dark room he was being held in. It felt like a swamp and he was slowly suffocating in the murky water.

“Heinrich Faust was a scholar of old; he was wise and extremely loved. His findings were that of legend and he knew all a man could know. But he tired quickly of his life in the mortal realm, and called out for a spiritual experience, to know all that men should not know, from whomever would provide it,” Lady Faust explained, continuing her story. “You see, unbeknownst to Faust, the Lord of darkness had a plan for him. He sent a demon named Mephistopheles to him and swayed him into a life of sin and worldly pleasures.” She closed the book, putting it down on the ground where she grabbed it from originally. She grabbed the grimoire and showed it to Scott, pointing at the image on the top left, “This is Mephistopheles, dear Scott.”

Scott looked at the image in horror, unable to comprehend why she was showing him this.

“You’re still confused, aren’t you?” Lady Faust said, sounding nearly appalled, “Do I have to spell it out for you?” She scoffed.

Scott soon realized that the woman in front of him had enough of his ineptitude and she again grabbed the blade from Steven. She kneeled down in front of Scott, holding the blade over his leg, slowly carving out a symbol. Scott screamed in agony, helpless to stop her. He struggled with his arm restraints and began to bleed more profusely. He waned in and out of consciousness, unaware of his surroundings still, and a feeling of helplessness came so strongly over him that he began to cry once more. He was the victim in this bloody game and he had no escape route.

Lady Faust gave the blade back to Steven and motioned for Melissa to take her place, obviously fed up with Scott. Melissa walked over towards the light, staring at Scott eye to eye for the first time.

“You know what I see when I look into your soul?” She said to him, getting close to his face so she could whisper in his ears. “You’re already damned,” she said quietly to him, spitting on his face. “You destroyed my life that day, you know? I was going be a soccer player. I had already won the tournament for my school. But then you came along, you tempted me into a sinful relationship with an older man. YOU CORRUPTED ME!” Melissa shouted, grabbing the knife from Steven and gashing Scott’s chest. She chuckled slightly as the blood poured from his pectoral muscles, which she cut open violently. Scott could barely scream in agony, his strength disappearing from him. Melissa reached into a bag and pulled out a needle filled with a green liquid that Scott immediately recognized. She shoved the shot into his ribcage and pushed the liquid into his veins. He instantly felt reenergized and let out a scream of intense agony.

“How does it feel to be the victim Scott? You’ll be the perfect host,” Melissa said, finally calmed. She gave the knife back to Steven and went back to Scott, looking him in the eyes once more. “Mephistopheles will be pleased,” she stated bluntly, digging her finger into his chest muscle, ripping what was left of it out with her bare hands, and laughing in Scott’s face. Scott let out another cry of agony, trying to bite at Melissa, but to no avail.

“Enough of that Melissa, you know our savior likes a semi clean host. I mean for our Lord’s sake, Heinrich was a scholar and you all know my husband was a well kempt man, damn his soul,” Lady Faust exclaimed, coming out once more from the darkness.

“Jesus, you’re all lunatics,” Scott exclaimed, making his first statement since Lady Faust had threatened his tongue.

“Oh, darling, Jesus isn’t here,” Lady Faust stated grimly. Scott looked at her and knew what she said was true. There was no way in hell that Jesus or any divine justice would be helping him out of this place. He would die here, in the hands of a few cultist freaks. His soul was damned and he finally accepted the fact, giving up and letting his body limber up again.

“Let’s just get on with this then,” Scott stated blandly, all tone gone from his voice.

The three looked on in shock, unaware that their victim would ever give in to them.

“Fine,” Lady Faust said, with a sudden change in her tone, “Steven, Melissa, carve the rest of the symbols into him, you know how to do this.”

Scott didn’t even let out a whimper as they cut into his flesh, his will to live gone completely by this moment. His body was limp and he felt a rush of cold air come over him. He welcomed his death, unwilling to fight anymore. He fell unconscious once more and awoke to the three gathered around him, illuminated now by the light entirely. He could see all their faces clearly. They appeared human, but inside he could see their true evil. He was between the earthly realm and that of the afterlife, slipping in and out of living. Within their bodies true evil lurked, in the form of three demons. Their flesh was burned and contorted and he could see that they were all related to Mephistopheles, long lost relatives of some form or shape. When he came to for the final time, no longer in the realm of the afterlife, they were chanting some strange ritual.

“Komm her oh Great One. Erhöre unser Flehen. Anstieg von Ash. Gib uns deine Gegenwart!” They chanted in unison, repeating the verse numerous times.

The ground began to shake beneath Scott, and he looked below him. The symbol they had drawn was rising up, the blood floating in the air slightly. Scott stared on in horror as the blood continued to rise up, floating above him and spinning around his body and surrounding him in a wall of his own blood. He could see only the crimson liquid and no longer could he make out the people in front of him. The blood surrounded him and eventually attached itself to him, entering his bloodstream once more, and filling him with a revitalizing feeling. He felt whole again, but he also felt another presence filling him.

“Hello, Scott,” a voice said within Scott’s mind.

“What the fuck, who is that?” Scott thought to himself.

“Such foul language towards someone who’s going to be sharing brain space with you,” the voice said, feigning offense.

Scott couldn’t believe what he was feeling in his mind. It was like his brain was at war with itself. But then, the silence came. It was blankness and it was fullness. He felt nothing and yet he felt everything. “This was what they had planned,” he thought to himself.

“I am Mephistopheles, by the way, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” the voice revealed itself to Scott, “I’ll be assuming control here.”

Just then, Scott’s mind went completely blank. He didn’t know what was happening anymore. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear, and he couldn’t feel. All he could do was think to himself. Mephistopheles had assumed control of all his senses. Just then, Scott could hear him speaking to his minions.

“You have done well my children. You brought me one of the souls that I sought and for that you will be rewarded,” he stated calmly.

Scott heard the three children as they truly were, their tortured screams of delight and happiness from the good word Mephistopheles brought them. As Scott’s mind went blank once more, he awoke in a dark place. His hands were tied to a wall and his legs were restrained, as well. Scott closed his eyes once more, trying to assure himself of his position. He looked at the sign in front of him. “Welcome to Hell,” it read, illuminated by a candle. Scott felt a sudden strike of a whip, from an unknown assailant. As he came to fully, he smiled, and closed his eyes one final time.