92 lines
6.3 KiB
Plaintext
92 lines
6.3 KiB
Plaintext
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____________________________
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\___________\_________\_____\
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\__ __ / ____/ \
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/ / _/ ___/__ _/ \
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/ / / \ / /
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\/____/_____\________/________/
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"<22><>/<2F><><EFBFBD><EFBFBD> <20><>i<EFBFBD><69> /><3E><>/>z" p<><70>z<EFBFBD><7A><EFBFBD>:
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RED-007.TXT aka
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"Stories Du Jour"
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by: Satan
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Note from Satan: These were journal entries from school. If you don't like
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them, then don't read them. If you do, ok. Thank you.
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Darkness entangled him. Fear gripped his heart as he walked through
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this black void. Was he in hell? No, hell had to be better than this. He
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could not see. He could only touch the cold stone that he walked on. He
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walked. At times he would run. He never knew which direction he was going.
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Then he felt it. An evil presence, so strong that he felt that if he turned
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around, he would see it staring him in the face. So he turned around. A
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deep cackling was heard, and suddenly the room was illuminated, and he saw
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a strange, blue orb in the center. He was drawn to it. Moving towards it,
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he felt the thing's evil. He reached out to touch it, and was driven away.
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He stood for a long time, staring at the glowing blue orb, feeling
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it's power radiate from within. He could think of only one way to get closer
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to the orb. He withdrew his bastard sword, and gripping it with both hands,
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held it high over his head. He brought it down with an almost superhuman
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strength, and crushed the orb. The room was dark again. A low humming
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noise was began to echo throughout. His sword began to glow a dull shade of
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blue. He felt evil coursing through his blood. His soul was slowly being
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torn away, and he was helpless. He screamed, but no one would ever hear it.
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He felt his world fading. He closed his eyes.
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I waited and waited, but there was still no sign. "Five minutes
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more," I said. Maybe the ritual had failed. Maybe something had gone wrong.
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As I waited for a sign, I carefully read over the ritual procedure. I
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realized that I was missing the key step: a human sacrafice. I crept up
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the stairs to my brother's room, where he slept quietly. I took a piece of
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twine and with one, careful twist, snapped his neck. I trudged down the
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stairs with his limp corpse in my hands, and layed him upon my altar. I
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lit the candles, which were placed ever so carefully in a pentagram shape.
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I chanted slowly, paying my respect to the god of the underworld, Satan.
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The drops of rain came pouring from the sky. I trudged on, unsure of
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where I was. I looked up and saw the faint remains of what used to be white,
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puffy clouds. The sky was dark gray. The thunder cascaded throughout the
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sky, seeming louder each time. Faint flickers of lighting was my only means
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of light. Alone, i stumbled ahead through the darkness. Just then, the sky
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parted, and a single bolt of white-hot energy raged towards the ground. It
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struck, scattering pieces of tree and mud throughout.
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It's so unfair. He hadn't expected this to happen. He began the
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ritual with such high hopes. Hopes of possessing an undying evil deep
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within. But, alas, the ritual had backfired, and sent him tumbling into an
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alternate plane. He wondered for a while if he had died and gone to hell, but
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a voice inside of him assured him that he was alive. Suddenly, he heard a
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loud cackle, one that nearly burst his eardrums apart. He turned, and saw
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before him a giant creature, with red skin, and pentagrams engraved upon its
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chest. He found that he was strangely unafraid of this demonic image. Of
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course, he was the only on who had brought this upon himself. He knew what
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would happen is something went wrong. The demon reached out with its four-
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clawed hand, and grabbed him. The demon began to squeeze. The worshipper's
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eyes flew clean out of their sockets, and the demon reach in and grabbed
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a small handful of the worshipper's brains. Chewing slowly, the demon
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enjoyed his tasty snack. He next clawed open the front of the man, spilling
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his internal organs onto his other hand. The organs made a solemn, squishing
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sound as the demon kept feasting on the man's parts. He then merely tossed
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the man aside, and in a puff of indigo smoke, vanished to another plane,
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never to be seen again.
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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As the man put the band-aid on the little boy, something happened
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that was so quick and drastic that it would change both of their lives.
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This man, being a masochist, removed the band-aid and started to squeeze
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the blood from the boy like he was squeezing juice from an orange. The
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boy turned pale and his body went limp, as the blood was being drained from
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it. There was blood everywhere. The man simply laughed as he envisiond the
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boy writheing in pain. He walked away slowly, his blood covered sneakers
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sloshing on the dry, hot cement.
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