For now...

Discontinued.
I don't really like the style I chose, maybe one day I'll come back and re-work this.

Verbal4

"I'll take one cheese, one fully loaded, and one with just tomatoes." I hand the

cashier money. Being a demon has its perks, one being able to conjure just about

anything. I stand aside to let an older gentleman order and pay. He is grizzled,

gray streaking his unshaven face, his face wrinkled like a lost shirt in the trunk

of a car, his hair only white wisps of air. suddenly I change, I too am older,

wearing a light blue parka and khaki pants, with a Mets ball cap covering my

graying hair. Shock! I am watching myself!

Do not worry human, I am your demon aspect.

Demon aspect? I am a demon!

Not yet, Arch. There is a waylay period after transformation where humanity

lingers. It is a troublesome thing to rid oneself of, humanity.

What are you doing?(I realize that I'm quite really worried.)

Doing what I must. Feasting.

An evil intent fills my core briefly, before washing out into a sea of tranquility.

I am frozen, unable to "think" thoughts freely. All I know now is demon.

DEMON

The human world. Its disgusting. Filth litters every inch, feelings smother the

air like a dark heavy smoke. Their thoughts resound off every surface, a laughable

cacophony of ignorance. Their essence intrudes into everything they surround,

like selfish parasites intent on gorging themselves to oblivion.

"Chilly night out eh?" I throw out the net, subtly. The old man turns around

recognizing me as an old friend.

"Tommy? Tommy it is you! How are you doing? How's the family?" He moves to

embrace me. I grit my teeth, dreading the contact with this waste of essence.

"Good, good. Both good I mean! Hahahaha." Worthless fake humor. He laughs

anyway, ignorant in his own demise. "Let me grab these pies. You should come for

dinner, we can reminisce! Oh the good ol' times." He smiles and shakes his head

longingly. Humans and their selfishness, always wanting more and never thankful

for what they have.

"Sure, sure." I conjure a bottle of very expensive high class whiskey, only

available to the denizens of the furnace. "I just so happen to have this

on me." I show him an evil grin, masked by camaraderie. I take a deep

swig, wiping my mouth afterward, exaggerating how tantalizing it is. He quivers,

swallowing down temptation.

"Oh no, I can't. I've been sober 20 years..."

"For old times sake?" I hand him the bottle.

No! Stop! You can't! You'll destroy him! 

Silence fool. I am at work here.

This is not my mission! Leave the poor fellow alone!

I growl inwardly, handing the bottle to the man. He wavers, eying the bottle and

then me, as if looking for some sort of acceptance. Idiot. I nudge the bottle

closer and smile.

The trap is laid, the bait is set, the prey has fallen. He takes the bottle and

brings it to his lips, the cold liquid hitting his tongue, sending chills down his

body. The liquid flows through his veins, his failure complete. That man, when he

returns to his home tonight, will no longer be the man his family knew. The man is

now no more than an empty husk;with his soul I walk away into the darkness.

Verbal3

Again and again the pattern on the wall repeats. The hallway goes on forever, as

properly descripted, however it seems that its only a section that merely repeats

itself. I can no longer see the homely desk-lady behind me, just more and more

expansive self repeating god damn boring hallway. Honestly, I don't think it would

bother me as much if it changed in some way. I walk to the wall closest to me,

leaning the brief case against the drab wood paneling. The wall paper was a pale

wrinkly pink, almost like skin stretched imperfectly across a board. How could

anyone feel "comfortable" in a place like this? I take the note out of my pocket

and look at it again. Unpronounceable. Its not even a word, let alone anything

recognizable. Its just plain gibberish. Disgusted, I fold it up and place it

back into my jacket pocket. I shift uncomfortably in the suit. Somehow I

remember not really liking dressing for the occasion.

"You look like a bag of bones." A voice from everywhere. Startled, I get up not

really sure what to make of it. I look around, nothing but the same old hallway.

"Looks like he's got some life in him." Again, it echoes. I grab my briefcase and

continue down the hallway, ignoring the voices that clearly indicate my madness.

If only it was a different bloody color...

"My color is perfectly fine, thank you."

No. It can't be. 

"Well why not?

 ...

"You know this isn't the normal world. Anything goes!" 

 This, I do believe, is true.

Since technically there is no one here, I do a sort of turn about as I ask, "Who am

I talking to?"

"Why, me of course." This time I notice a sort of vibration, a humming when the

voice spoke.

"I'm on to you specter. Show yourself and your torture will be brief." I have no

intention of torturing anyone, but maintaining appearance is a must!

"Hahahahahahahahaha you couldn't torture a stuck pig! Not in 4 millennia has a more

lowly demon come through here! Hurry up and die of boredom, worthless pawn."

I am shocked. The passageway is mocking me. Then suddenly, an idea.

"Ha! If I am such a lowly demon, then why did they give me this special knowledge!"

Here I remove the note from my pocket, still folded. "I bet you can't even read

what it says, being a stupid passage that you are!"

"Passage! Don't mock me like some common walkway! The evil that drives me sends

Succubi in a frenzy! Show me your infernal news!" The wall behind me lets out a

sickening crack, red liquid oozing out of the wound. A newly formed eye blinks at

me grotesquely. I bring the note over to it, keeping my distance while trying

not to heave.

"What, are you stupid?! That is simply-"

I'm lying on my back on cold concrete, a billboard for a product I don't recognize

looming over me, its neon signature blinding. There's a cool breeze that carries

the sound of construction, car horns, and men shouting from below. I can smell the

pizza stands below on the dirty garbage filled streets, the thick smog filled air filling my lungs. The demon inside me grinned.

Verbal2

"Come on now, don't stall."  A womanly voice calls from the hallway.  I walk to the doorway into what looks like a dentist's waiting room.  Plush felt chairs line the seemingly endless wall, a cracked pattern of paper covering it lovingly.

"Its something isn't it?  It seems to captivate all the newcomers, and even some ancient ones."  I turn to look at the voice.  It is a homely woman...or I suppose she-demon...rather I guess just demon, sitting behind a desk stacked with papers.  "It goes on for as long as you want it to, simply amazing really."  She sighs longingly, like a forlorn lover.

"Is this really Hell?"  I ask her.

"Oh no silly, this is Limbo.  You just recently returned from Hell.  Rather gruesome place isn't it?"  she smiles rather flatteringly.  She shuffles the papers around on her desk, seemingly lost in thought.  She knocks a bottle, of what looks like water, marked with an 'L' to the ground.  I turn to look again down the hallway.  A never ending passageway...

"Here you go!  Have a nice trip!"  She hands me a long strip of rolled thick paper and continues shuffling around things on her desk.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" I ask her as I take the scroll.

"Oh my!  I'm so sorry, I tend to be forgetful from time to time."  Her smile dazzles me.  She scribbles something on a notepad and hands it to me.  "Just walk on down the hallway until you feel comfortable and say whats on that note.  You'll zip on straight to where you need to be."  Again her mind wanders, papers shuffling frantically.  I take a look at the note:

 Jhnjjhr'ghusdf  

I frown.  I put the note in my jacket pocket, switch the briefcase to my right side, and begin walking down the endless hallway.

Verbal1

I'm walking down a spiral staircase. There's nothing else around me, no light, no sounds. The air is cool, but I'm comfortable. The stairs themselves are made of some stone, maybe granite, I can't really tell. I'm not wearing shoes, so the steps are fresh on my soles. Actually...I'm completely naked, but I don't feel that way. I notice a railing, its made of a dark brown wood, maybe mahogany. I shrug, who knows. I can't remember why I'm walking down these steps, I can't remember how I got on this staircase...I can't even remember my name now that I think about it. All I see are stairs below me, stairs above me, and blackness around me. I guess I'll just keep on going down these stairs...

I don't really know how long its been, but no matter how far I go down they never seem to end.  I'm worried what I'll do when I get tired...but it doesn't seem like that'll happen here. My purpose seems to be to go down and down and down and down and down....

...and down and...wait. I see a light of some sort...a hazy red aura in the darkness. Suddenly I feel something. Excitement fills me, I had forgotten what it was to feel. I rush down the steps, feeding eagerly on the red haze. The steps feel like they are warming, or maybe its my mind playing tricks on me. No...no...the steps are definitely getting hotter, losing their cool stoney feel with each step downward. I slow down, scared. Where the hell am I?

Suddenly, I'm no longer on a staircase. I'm in a nicely upholstered room, a fireplace lit and roaring. I'm wearing a business suite, a red tie around my neck, leather briefcase in my hand. There's a massive oak desk in front of me, a recliner turned behind it so I can't see who's sitting in it.

"I see you finally made it." a voice comes from the chair.

"The elevator was broken, so I had to take the stairs." my voice, but I'm sure my mouth didn't move.

"No worries, we have all the time in the world down here." the chair-voice continues.

"All the time in the world..." this time my mouth does move.

"Are you prepared for the task at hand?" the chair inquires. 

"The task..." I have no idea what the chair is talking about.

"The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was making everyone believe he didn't exist. Its time for that to end." The chair turned about, slowly. There sitting in it, is the spitting image of a perfect human being. I can't really describe it, everything about his being is flawless. Perfect hair, striking face, bottomless entrancing eyes. Even his voice is rich and filled with encouragement. I never want him to stop talking, to stop looking at me. I realize I'm shaking. I am terrified. The man in the chair smiles at me. I'm filled with warmth, a euphoria that I have never experienced before in my life. It is amazing...and sad at the same time.

"You'll be taken care of handsomely once your task is completed. Do not fail me. There's no place here for failures." He smiles again, chuckling to himself. I laugh with him, not knowing why. "Well...almost no place."

Searing pain. My eyes are being melted, my skin is falling off, my nails plucked from my fingers and toes, slowly and monotonously. My hair is being burned off by acid, my limbs are being torn off, my insides are scrambled and forced out of me. I have never experienced such horror until this very moment. Yet even now, as they tilt a cauldron of molten lava down my throat, I know I can manage. I know that this is my purpose, my sole being, my one reason for being alive. I feel like crying, but I know it is pointless, my eyes no longer exist. I feel like screaming out, but I know it is meaningless, my throat and voice long destroyed. They leave me, no longer a recognizable human being, but a lump of meat, a destroyed misshapen carcass, not fit to even be disposed of. But I know it is all-right, that things will work out in the end. I remember that mines smile, his golden hair, his deep perfect blue eyes. And his voice. I can hear it now, calling my name, beckoning me forth, bringing me out of despair.

"Demon Arch, your time has come."

And I guess that's how I became a demon.