"Heaven And Hell" by Carolin Emily ´Dragoncat´ Southern

Heaven And Hell

Darkness spreads out in a wide blanket above the column of fire, light and death. Everything shivers and collapses, being thrown back into the world, being completely destroyed. The central column still stands, blazing black, blue, red yellow, crimson. The dead are not even visible. Only rubble remains.

The screams linger on the poisoned wind as everything blazes in searing heat. The last charred blade of grass blows into the wind.  That is the last city I visited. I don’t think it was a fair fate, even if they did hate me, shoot me, hurt me. Some people say I’m a demon, others say I’m just a psycho. It is up to you to decide. What most people don’t know is that I can do that to a city and I don’t need a nuke.  

Slowly the cloud collapses behind me. I suppose I should care about all those dead, but as if I could. They tried to kill me, but that doesn’t make it fair. They tortured me, like everywhere I’ve been to before. Why should they suffer.Why should I suffer? I’m still a person, even if I come from hell. If they would only see what I really am. Or maybe they are right. Maybe I ought go back to hell, at least the rage wouldn’t kill people. They shouldn’t try to hurt me, I’m really harmless until they try and hurt me.

There is nowhere I can go. The F.B.I is after me, humanity wants me dead, and in some ways I can’t blame them. I did kill millions of them, but it isn’t as if I wanted to. I don’t even have a home, so I can’t go there. I don’t want to be caught, though not for my sakes. Electric chairs may hurt, but I don’t die. Lethal injections aren’t lethal as far as I’m concerned; in fact those few days of rest are nice, unless I wake up underneath six foot of soil. I’m worried in case they catch me and the demon half of me lets rip.

I don’t like massacring millions, even if I am a demon and don’t have any real emotions past fear and anger.  I don’t feel guilty. I ought to feel guilty but I can’t.  I can’t love, I can’t be happy, I can’t be sad, I can just be afraid, just be angry. I don’t feel guilty about half an hour ago, I think guilty.  It is an intellectual sort of guilt; it works like an algebra equation rather than a feeling. I think: Killing is bad, I have just done a lot of killing, therefore I have been bad, and what I have done is wrong.

I am a demon, I want to be saved. To me, blowing an entire city into smithereens isn’t even difficult.  Could end the world if I wanted to.  The only thing I can’t destroy is myself, even if it would be good for humans and for everything.

Do you know in a lot of ways I’m like an angel? I have wings, I am immortal, I have cosmic power greater than any mortal could ever dream of, I have a limited set of emotions. It is just that I come from the wrong side of Heaven and Earth. My boss is an Almighty, but he isn’t the one you’ll probably be praying to on Sunday. I wish I could have been an angel, at least everyone wouldn’t be trying to kill me. Even Satan wants me dead, and I’m a demon.