A Demons Perspective

I grab Fergus's hand and run towards a huge lake that I spotted in the center of the woods. I try my best to not get my dress filthy, but I think its already too late for that. I kick off my heels and undo my neat bun, throwing the expensive $10 hair clip somewhere in a muddy puddle, not caring about what my mother would say.

Suddenly I trip on what looked like a fallen branch and I'm thrusted towards a gigantic rock. I scream, knowing that I'm done for. A sharp point on the rock is implanted somewhere in the middle of my forehead and I see blood. Lots of blood. I also hear the sound of Fergus's voice shouting my name, but it was too late to help me now. I was dead.

My name is Kendra Threshugh. I was born on February 28th, 1892. My death date was on September 11th, 1919. On my 29th birthday I was running around in the woods with my best friend, Fergus Rodric McLeod when suddenly I trip and hit my head on a rock. I met Fergus at our both gender, all age, one room school. He was 3 years older than me- he was 16 and I was 13. My little brother died a year before we met at age five by drowning in a lake. After that my father left me and I spent one whole year living by myself. It wasn't hard, yet it wasn't easy either but I managed to live for a while.

After I died I thought that I was finally going to meet my brother in heaven. But I didn't. Instead I found myself in the middle of Hell in front of a large door that said "Welcome to the group." What group? I asked myself. Hoping to find answers, I opened the large doors and stepped through them, landing in what looked like an empty field. But I didn't feel like a human anymore. I could actually feel dark clouds of smoke circling through my body like it was a part of me, and there was a shock of rage and violence bouncing around in my gut, pounding against my insides. Now I knew what the sign above the doors meant. I wasn't a ghost or a human, and I certainly wasn't alive. I was a demon.