May Your Death Come Quickly

I put nails in my hands to keep them from shaking, and grind my teeth to keep my tongue in check. I could destroy you with a single errant flick of the wrist, and cut your fucking eyes out with the sharp edge of a careless word. Human beings are fragile things, despite their bluster, despite the way they carry on about their strength. To be so easily killed is shameful. To say the least, you are beneath me. Writhing, roiling, pitiful things that dare not raise their heads for fear of having them taken off.

I prey upon the weak and sate my hunger with their flesh. I tear the limbs from children to amuse myself. I am not a monster any more than you're a god. I'm am what you've made of me. I am hatred, darkness, and despair. Violence incarnate. I am death come reaping, and if you cross my path there won't be enough left of you for mourning. The gods will scorn your foolishness. Hel herself will disdain you.

My shadow spreads over the world, over these insectile scurrying lives, dark as moonless midnight. There is no more savior in me. No more mercy. I am all of malice and massacres. Wholesale slaughter to slake the thirst. I have ever been a thing of desires, and for all my lust of sweat and lace and silken skin I have always preferred to burn, level, devour. The feel of pleasure under my fingertips is nothing beside crushing bones in my hands. Beside wielding fire as a painter wields his brushes.

My flesh bristles with poisoned tips, shards of bone that jut at odd angles from joints, fingertips, knuckles, shoulders. An array of jagged, ivory blades. Touching me will shear off hands. Embracing me will impale you on a hundred barbs, skewer your body like a pincushion. Nearing me is dangerous. One false step is fatal.

Ragged black wings fall around me like a cloak. Smoke wreathes my face like a burial shroud. Nothing lives under my gaze. Even those who exult at the whisper of my lips find themselves dessicated, dying of thirst. Dawn will not bring solace for them. They will never see the sun rise again.

My power is nearly limitless. My wrath is infinite. The cities of man will burn, this world will die with humanity's last, great purge. The size of your arrogance is astounding. The stench of you is loathesome. The lucky will perish in the first wave.

For the rest, there awaits only suffering.

Malevolently Yours,
-S.R.