Guard and Scythe

I am the Monster

Pain is an emotion for the weak. I was thinking about pain and suffering right then as I found myself roaming the deadened fields of Hell once again. Everyone was thinking about pain and suffering however, for we were in the land were it never ceased to plague us.

Hell is nothing like the humans picture it to be. It is not an underground cave, with boiling lava pits everywhere, and fires raging across the grounds.

Hell is like a continuing savannah of deadened black grass and very few withering trees. Hell was under a blood red sky that stretched forever into the distance, with only one single firey red moon. A continuing night that we roamed and...Not lived since we are not, but were kept under.

Forever the grasses stretched out across the fields of Hell. If I were to walk on for eternity, I would only end up nowhere.

I heared the clocktower strike. Satan wanted to gather me and my siblings together for some reason. Chills ran up my spine, and the chains bound around my feet began to drag me back once again.

The souls of the damned are imprisoned in the heart of hell, just outside Satan's tower. To make the size of this part of Hell understandable to human's, I'd compare it to the size of Alaska. There are a lot of people who had sinned their entire lives.

I sighed and allowed the shackles around my ankles to lead me back. I had to savor these moments I had away from the company of others, and especially out of Satan's watchful eyes. They seemed to be growing fewer and fewer in number lately.

My siblings and I gathered in our circle in front of the clock tower. The clock struck once again right as I stepped into my place in the circle, beside where our master would stand.

Satan appeared from the back shadows of the clocktower and joined us. His long horns stood out from holes ripped into the cloak and hood that masked his face from us. He held his staff in his hands, beating on it impatiently with his long white spidery fingers.

We all wait for our master to speak. The silence is so tense, I could feel it thicken in the air. He finally speaks, clearing his throat. What he says frightens us all.

"My children; we have a traitor amoungst us,"

This sends some hisses through the circle. hooded figures turn and stare through red eyes at each other with suspicion. I feel as if I've been paralyzed, and had a stake thrusted through my chest.

I manage to retain my composure, and keep my stance tall and calm, not daring to look into his eyes, as he stands next to me. I can feel his frustration with my siblings for he barks at us all to be silent.

"One of you is unworthy to be a soul reaper. One of you will pay for your betrayel. Let this be a warning to the traitor: If I ever catch you going against me, I will ensure they will burn for eternity," he leaves his final threat out their for us all to think over, and slinks back into the shadows. I don't dare risk turning my head in fear of the possiblity of seeing those red eyes stare at me in aqusation. 

Pain may be irrational, but so is fear. And I am a very irrational creature.

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I play good demon and behave like a loyal servant in the human realm. I can almost feel the puppet strings tug through my arms and legs, as I work mechanically, forcing the tortured souls into my pocket with no mercy or kindness, night after night.

I find myself one lonely night in midwinter, wandering the streets of a small town in the state of Montana. Snow covers the ground like a thick white blanket, and frost candies the branches of the barren trees all around the lonely streets. I glide over the ground, not leaving behind a footprint or any trace of my passing by. It was like I had become part of the night itself.