#a priest a rabbit and a body horror

[thevalicemultiverse]

A priest, a rabbi and a prostitute walk into a bar. They sit down, the bartender's cutting limes. He says, "hold on, I gotta go switch out the kegs."

He leaves and the priest starts talking, he says "I had a man come into my church tells me, 'Father, I no longer believe in God.' So, I explained to him about the fires of hell and eternal damnation and instills the fear of God back in the man."

The Rabbi says, "Oh you Catholics and your fear. I had a similar man come to me, said 'Rabbi, I no longer believe in God.' but the Torah teaches us to explore and question our faith. So, after some conversation and my wise counsel, he came to his own conclusion that he still believed in God."

And they both look at the prostitute and say, "What about you? How would you make a man believe in God?" and the Prostitute picks up the knife that the bartender was using. Says "Oh, I'd just introduce them."

And she stabs the rabbi's hand, pinning him to the bar. The Priest makes a run for the door, her tongue extends out of her mouth, wraps around his ankles and pulls him down to the floor. He digs his fingernails into the hardwoods, but it's of no use. She reels him back in and her jaw unhinges, and she begins to swallow him whole like some great python.

He screams as his feet and legs begin to dissolve in her stomach acids, by the time she gets the priest all the way down, the rabbi has freed himself. he's holding the knife. He says, "Young lady, I don't want to hurt you, but I will if it means saying my life."

She lunges towards him. He stabs her in her swollen belly. She looks down and she smiles, and she pulls the knife deep inside of herself. The knife wound opens up and wraps around the rabbi's hand and begins absorbing him. The arm first, then the head, and then the rest of the body.

And now that she's consumed both the priest and the rabbi, she is bloated and huge and she rolls over onto her back and her arm leg bones begin to crack like glow sticks and her ligaments and head suck inside of herself.

And the bartender comes back. And he sees this mound of pulsating flesh there at his bar. He walks over to it and sees the prostitute's belly button right there on top. It begins to split at the seams and peel open. And then out emerges the head of Jon Taffer. It was another episode of Bar Rescue.

"Oh, you had three customers here. You didn't take their orders. The limes should have been done before you opened. You're back their dingdonging around with the kegs. You should have been taking care of the customers that were at your bar. Not to mention you left a knife out that any psycho could grab and use. You're going to be held liable for that. Shut it down!"

Boy was he heated.

Londerland Bloodlines

Alice: ...I -- was that supposed to still be a joke, or...seriously, why did you go on like that? Why did I stay to hear the whole thing? And what's Bar Rescue -- other than a show rescuing bars, I suppose...

[insomniac-dot-ink]

The City of the Dead

The city of the dead have no mouths to speak with. No minds to form reason. Memories and memories and memories that do not order themselves. In the ruins in the barrens on the edge of the world, skeletons began to walk. No one could answer why the dead rose in one small pocket of the world and forgot to sleep again. 

Holy men, alchemists, kings, and living martyrs all traveled to the great ruins of Makan and watched the walking. Bones that carried broken stones from one edge to the other. Kneeling figures that clapped their hands to an unknown rhythm. Spirits burst from wells and poltergeists flung rotted wood at strangers. Yet, the dead did not speak. They were asked of their names, their families, what led them back from the beyond. What necromancer would do this.

They did not wage war. Nor do they pick up swords. The dead were not peaceful perhaps but neither were they purposeful. Makan was an old city, ancient beyond memory, and deserted once the nearest river was dammed and diverted. They were ruins that hung off a cliffside and turned brilliant red against the rising sun. A place of scholarship and history–until it became something more. 

Bodies rattling, teeth clattering, voices of faded spirits like the wind through craigs and singing through tree branches. Some pilgrims swear the dead call their name when they aren’t looking. Others claim they are watching, judging, deciding who will be pure enough to deserve salvation. Still others say they are empty vessels simply caught on repeat–the same routine daily, weekly, yearly for eternity. A meaningless display turned sensational. 

They were famous after all. A skeleton which pushed a baby carrier down the center road from dawn to dusk named the Mother. The well witch who cackled and splashes anyone that passed. The tower Stranger with one arm and one leg who watched anyone who entered, skull swiveling in place. A ghost that rang the church bells–one that people rumor calls your name if you pass too close. Others say it is not your name, but the name of the person you should marry.

The theories were limitless. A place of unimaginable power and limitless looping. And no one to take credit, rally the armies, or put them to rest. Pilgrims came and went. Queens and princes and priests blessed and cursed the place, tried to burn or drown the inhabitants, claimed ordinance or forbade their citizens to make the trek to the ruins in the barrens on the edge of the world. 

In the second dawn of the God-Priest Amix III, a final pilgrimage was made. A Holy Child had been once more chosen from the masses of orphans found in the priestly empire. Dark-eyed and solemn, they were hand-picked for their docile nature. A toddler given a steady diet of jelly the color of stars and flavor of chilled mint. In other countries, they call it Prophecy Meats and treat it as a rare delicacy and dangerous altering substance. The Holy Child, chosen for endurance or perhaps very little at all, is given this steady diet of Stars until they can see the past and present all at once.

The Holy Child of this generation, a girl no more than eight, had survived her first years of seeing the wars and joys and horrors to come. She was dying, of course, and the attendant-nun had become attached. Sister Grehn was warned against such things. Told to keep her distance and remember their purpose, great and beautiful. Sister Grehn begged and pleaded and said, why not take her to the sea? The mountains? Any place that might help her lungs. Take her to healers of other lands.

She got the city of the dead. Sister Grehn carried the Holy Child, too small for her age and eyes as big as black holes, close. “Would you like to see the well, little one?” The nun whispered. “The funny skeleton pushing the baby carriage?”

The Holy Child, who privately kept her birth name, looked up. Nima, a peasant name, a rabbit name, felt the press against her eye sockets. She gave a long exhale. “Oh,” she said. “Oh. They are like me.”

Sister Grehn held her tightly to her chest, mouth turning into a battle line. No, not here, she thought. Please. 

The Holy Child closed her eyes and whispered, “They are tired.” 

Even eternity has an end and the Holy Child spoke the last words of the city of the dead to her first friend and one she privately called something else. “Mom, the river is not gone. The river is all.”

There are many types of spirits, life beyond life, and memories that do not forget how to rush down the land and twist across stone. The wizards that diverted the mighty river centuries before had used magic, darker stuff to do a simple job, cut corners to avoid the wrath of a king or priest or any other towering sovereign who are all the same. The water moved. The soul went elsewhere. The spirit of the river burst through the ruins of Manak. And tried with all its might to live again.

FIN

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[bloodyvenomboy]

Ok Lets Do Some Character Intros

Kind of. Updated version I suppose. Just sort of a quick, here are the OCs, I might go more in depth with them in another post

Ok so, the first of the first, the facility trio

We have Ajara, Caleb, and Capri. They had met in a sort of scp facility where they were being tortured tested on as kids. Once the facility was destroyed they sort of became nomads. They are generally MC types

Then the Family Business duo

Kenna and Ron Harrison, a father and daughter who are for a lil murdersim I'm working on. They're both borderline sociopathic/psychopathic murderers that are successfully (for the moment) flying under the radar

Call Of The Void

Next is Frankie, Don, Addie, and Elliot . Donovan is an ex-catholic, unfortunate immortal and Frankie is his bartending bestie. Addie is Dons annoying tag along in the comic (and a AU of another character of mine -- Adryan), and Elliot, Donovans roommate and straight man to all his shenanigans. There are two different versions of Donovan and Frankie. The COTV versions and MC versions, both have variables that are seperate from the comic canon (IE Don is not effected by his repeated deaths, and Frankie not being a side character, and Addie and Elliot do not exist.)

Another comic I have in comic purgatory right now is Warm Gun

Got Trevor, 'Ulysses' and Lucius. Trevor is an extreme masochist possessed by Ulysses because Lucius fucked up summoning a demon. Accidentally summoned a succubus and did not have a tether set for her to control, so she went to the next living thing. His neighbor and stalker. She keeps Trevor alive while encouraging his harmful activities, in exchange she takes the wheel every now and then to 'feed'

Misc. Ones that are used solely for RP or I haven't decided what to do with quite yet

First is Arthur, a fleshy living BJD, created by a neurotic little biological inventor named Nellie (Eleanor). Arthur comes with interchangeable parts and is huge fucking neet. She is awkward and uncomfortable around others. Also because of the nature of her existence, without proper upkeep from Nellie she has bouts of...instability. Works as a MC and a murderbabe Next is Eericks. A dwarf harlequin rabbit shifter that never quite got the hang of turning completely human. Had run into some unfortunate folk running away from home and lost his legs and nearly lost his eye. Very energetic little guy, super kind, never swears. Next to Eericks is Lens. Or the Lensman Devil. A serial killer known for living photo and video evidence of the crimes he commits as a way to mock the family and friends of his victims. He does not like the killer title, he actually 'tries' to keep them around. He swears. Hes a cheeky little shit. And incredibly horrifying. Then theres Victoria. The picture here is old, shes be re-design currently. Shes loosely a vampire. Shes a mass fungal network that survives off of bodily fluids. She is only considered a 'she' because she developed her body over the first humans that took her in. Theres a whole thing, but again, different post. Cecile, or CC is a homunculus of his own making. Hes incredibly volatile and barely held together. So many chemicals and compounds have been pumped into his body his mind and body are barely held together. To the point where his bodily fluids are toxic, acidic, and are almost like an insane hallucinogenic Gabriel is a 'priest'. A bearded vulture shifter who feeds off the bones of the unfortunate people passing through. He preaches and worships Death. Hes a fanatic and actively delusional. Incredibly dangerous and should not be approached in any circumstances. Kodi is vampire and private detective. A workaholic married to his job. It gives him purpose since his unfortunate turning. A quiet, stone faced man who doesnt quite fit in with the rest of his inhuman kind. Respected in that quiet unattached way. Kind of want to write a whole like, noir story with him.

There are some more horror stories and characters but they are being completely overhauled at the moment so Im not putting them up here

Any questions about the characters is welcomed and encouraged

[creppersfunpalooza]

wouldn’t it be so silly if my ocs had tumblr

(0 notes)

🎀 metallia’s-banned-account Follow

there’s this one girl i absolutely fucking hate but i need to know what brand of hair dye she uses oh my god. completely unrelated note does anyone know the most effective way of prying open a window without causing permanent damage or any noise? thank you, luv lia 💜

🔁 bunnicula Follow

I’m reporting you.

(25 notes)

🪽 reaperofcupid Follow

HELLO TUMBLR!💞 Have any unresolved love conflicts? A crush you just can’t get out of your head? stop by for a free love potion! i’ll also grant additional wishes that are within my range of capabilities. tips optional (in the form of life force and/or magic <3). you’ll find me if and when you need me!~ xoxoxo

(205 notes)

🧿 priest-of-pawns Follow

going out on the TOWN!! turns out being in the church has some perks lol. we’re volunteering to oversee a few services. excited af. maybe i’ll even get to read some new people.

🔁 priest-of-rooks Follow

FUCK YEAH WE’RE GOING OUTSIDE 💯💯💯 NEW FRIENDS FRESH MEAT

🔁 priest-of-pawns Follow

let’s try to keep the body count low this time okay???

🔁 priest-of-rooks Follow

I’ll try!

🔁 the-church-of-ocellus Follow

aw, you two deserve to live a little. go wild! -celly 👁️

(6,368 notes)

⌛️ allthateverwas Follow

hAhA wAtch thIs gUyS

🔁 thetalesofarabbit’s-banned-account Follow

HELP. GET ME OUT OF HERE. PLEASE.

(1 note)

🌿 fairest-of-folk Follow

@reaperofcupid is a SCAMMER. do NOT buy from him!!!!! i want a REFUND!!!!!!

🔁 reaperofcupid Follow

bitch it’s free. i hope you know how stupid you look right now. now how about you explain your issue like a rational client?

🔁 fairest-of-folk Follow

oh nvm it’s working now :3!! i think!!

🔁 reaperofcupid Follow

lovely. now fuck off.

(15 notes)

🍬 mai-kandi Follow

shoutout to my girlfriend :D!!!!! who may or may not be an FBI agent!!!!!!!!! 💖💖💖 babe you can tell me if you are!!!!!!!

🔁 bunnicula Follow

Uhm. Not exactly. Love you too though! ��

(52 notes)

🔷 da-official Follow

Productivity is up 6%! Keep up the good work! New approved hypotheses and studies being released to the public soon!

🔁 the-black-rabbit’s-banned-account Follow

WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU????? WHO’S RUNNING THIS FUCKING ACCOUNT??? THAT’S NOT ME. THAT’S NOT ME. IM TRAPPED ON SOME STRANGE PLANE OF EXISTENCE. WHO’S PRETENDING TO BE ME???

🔁 tbr-official Follow

If anyone is aware of who was behind the impersonator account, please stop by my office to report them to me. Thank you, TBR.

(341 notes)

💉 dr-venstal Follow

Looking for volunteer drug testers! Your help contributes to a better future! You’ll get a free lollipop if you participate! <3

🔁 metallia’s-banned-account Follow

nerd.

🔁 dr-venstal Follow

Well, that’s a bit mean.

🔁 metallia’s-banned-account Follow

do i look like i care. go cry in the bathrooms or whatever you gay people do idc.

🔁 dr-venstal Follow

bisexual.

🔁 metallia’s-banned-account Follow

sorry do you want me to cry with you or something? yeah i’m bisexual so what?? do you think calling me that hurts? i was kidding about the gay thing. i also like girls. wow surprise. i kiss women. i am married to a woman.

🔁 dr-venstal Follow

I’m bisexual, Ophelia.

(532 notes)

🎸 yourfavoritebloodycunt Follow

new phone new account. apparently people thought i was a werewolf for a while lmao.

🔁 just-hollywood Follow

YOOUR USEENMAE IS RVRITUAH

🔁 yourfavoritebloodycunt Follow

HUH????!!!?!??

🔁 just-hollywood Follow

YOUT USERNAME

🔁 yourfavoritebloodycunt Follow

WHAT’S WRONG WITH MY USERNAME???

🔁 just-hollywood Follow

IT’SfyfucjUGNY BRITISH.

🔁 yourfavoritebloodycunt Follow

i’m deleting my account. kms. goodbye internet.

(13 notes)

💎 eshimaislegallyblonde Follow

Hellooo! Does anyone have room for a new flat mate?? I do have a certain price range, but I’m working on getting a better job at the moment <3. I love true crime podcasts, coffee shops, sweets, the color pink, and horror movies. I’m fine with all different kinds of music and I’m always open to new things! I’m looking for someone with similar interests, so that way we can develop a closer friendship!

🔁 o0spooky_lover0o Follow

YOU’RE MOVING OUT???????? :{

🔁 eshimaislegallyblonde Follow

oh god oh fuck callum you weren’t supposed to find this. look you’re really sweet but the weird screams coming from your room are starting to freak me out at night.

🔁 o0spooky_lover0o Follow

Oh. okay yeah that’s fair!!!! good luck!!!!!!!!! :3

(3 notes)

[lost-technology]

Relax

Trigun Body Horror Week Prompt #3- Lungs Summary: Nicholas did not know what a “rabbit” was.  If this is what he did to rabbits, Priest William must have hated them.  Cage of Bone, Prison of Flesh: Story 3 - Relax @organsoutsidelovinglydescribed

[boxfullaturtles]

🚀📗💌

Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

Depends. When it's a one shot, I usually have the broad strokes of what I want to do, maybe a specific scene in mind, and usually pants it from there.

But for longer stuff, like Mortal Shell or Adagio in Green, those get outlines. In fact, Adagio now has one of the most extensive outlines I have ever done for a fan fiction. I drew diagrams and floor plans. The notes and ideas have their own notebook.

Like, look at this. This is just a small sampling of my layers of notes and outline and shit that I am doing to try and keep track of everything in Adagio.

I love this fic but boy howdy...

Do you want to write something outside of fan fiction? If so, what about?

I have an embarrassingly large number of story ideas that I want to write and they're all fantasy/urban fantasy because I am nothing if not predictable. Whether I actually finish one of them or not well...

The only one that's really made it past the outline stage and is a partially written rough draft. It's called "A Box Full of Void" and I started writing it when I was in a really, really bad way. But it's weirdly hopeful and cathartic, despite the spooky themes and existentialism. Basic plot summary:

Cecil "Rabbit" Downs and his friends live in the city of Hollowfort. It's a normal city. Until it's not. It starts with a sinkhole opening up in a local cemetery, disturbing hundreds of graves with a hole that disappears into the black earth. And then things get worse. A theater is trashed, a construction site collapses, animals go missing or are found dead in awful ways, and there are eerie sightings all over the city. And then a body gets up at a funeral and attacks a priest. Things are going very, very, VERY wrong in Hollowfort. But Rabbit and their friends aren't looking to be heroes or save the day. They just want to survive.

And it's NOT zombies, before you ask. Or aliens. Anyway, it's got a little bit of body horror, a little bit of gore, and lots of my purple prose metaphor bullshit that I use to try and describe things beyond the scope of human comprehension. There's a little bit of romance, but mostly a lot of darkness and weird, slightly philosophical talks about mental health, the nature of "good and bad", and some weird dogs.

I've got a bunch of short stories too. I keep meaning to submit them to places but I either forget or chicken out at the last second....

Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

Looks at my Bad Things Happen Bingo. Looks at you.

Non-Consensual Body Modifications.

Especially if there's mad science, torture, medical horror/trauma, and painful transformations involved.

Again, I am nothing if not predictable.

[promptsconceptsandideas]

Don't have any names for these characters, they are all mainly just drafts of character ideas. Feel free to use these for your own ideas or stories, I have no real intention to use most of these but I would still like to see them used, so if you do use them please show me what you create if you remember to!! You can change anything you want about these characters, of course, since they aren't really fleshed out or anything. Trigger warnings: Violence/Cannibalism, Slight horror aspects, cult mentions, slightly sensual writing?, referenced animal death and taxidermy

1. Queer changeling child (They/Them), becomes obsessed with taxidermy at a young age and begins to fall further and further down a rabbit hole starting from that young age, collecting bones and fur and then slowly beginning to gather carcasses and even buying a few things, until their family forces them to move to a city area to attempt to stop their obsession. It only gets worse as they get older, though, and for a while, they're satiated by books and occasionally buying a smaller piece of taxidermy, but they miss the feeling of collecting their own pieces. Neighbors' pets started going missing around that time, and soon the pigeons and rodents that would often be around the building where they live stop appearing as often. They later move from the city back to a more secluded, wooden area after their parents mysteriously disappear. 2. A non-human pretending to be human (They/Them) in a small town. They're terrible at hiding it, though, but no one in the town quite cares since everyone knows that the entire time they've been their the place has been safe from the worse things in the woods. Some people who visit the town are unhappy with their existence, even to the point of attempting to "exorcise" them from the town. Most of those people are out of town before they can even hear about these threats, though. The town doesn't enjoy when people threaten the people of the town. 3. A cannibal vigilante (He/They) who eats whoever he catches. He somehow never catches anyone who is innocent, and the local police slowly begin to stop trying as hard as they used to when it comes to catching him. One of the police officers ends up catching him on complete accident, just scouting out a general area after a lot of break-ins and murders around that area, but gets attacked by a random person. He's saved by the vigilante, though slightly traumatized as he realizes they absolutely do not cook who they eat he watches him rip out the person's throat with their own teeth, chewing at the meat of the area and drinking the blood. They don't really seem to notice him staying until they're done with their snack, seemingly, turning to look at him with wide eyes - not out of fear, but more just seemingly naturally large eyes - tilting their head at him and approaching him. He leaves the area with some blood on his lips and clothes, but slightly less afraid of the vigilante and much more sure about stopping investigations around them. 4. A priest in a cult who has actual direct contact with their deity. Much closer than anyone has, that is, not even the leader of the cult. They allow themself to be splayed out on the altar, hundreds of limbs all at once, separately, never, always touching his body, blessing him, kissing him, many heads and many lips, and they all look at him so fondly. He will never know their god, but he knows it more than anyone here ever would.

[wednesdaytonight]

In Child of God (1991) Jan Lewandowski is the detective assigned to the Quince Creek Killings case. He enters the Immaculate Conception Rehabilitation Sanctuary in another desperate attempt to interview the killer, believing their mutism to be a farce. Father Złóbcokiski intercepts the man and explains that the patient is undergoing a difficult treatment known as an Exorcism, the killings he claims to believe were caused by a demonic possession brought on by unchristian like music and horror movies. Undeterred, the detective barges into the room when the power cuts. A strange blue light slices through the darkness, an orderly is seen handing a knife to the Quince Creek Killer. As blood pours out of the orderly’s mouth, he places a kiss on the killer’s forehead before dropping dead, disappearing into the darkness. The killer takes off into the darkened halls, while the slit on the dead man’s throat flaps a rendition of Run Rabbit, Run.  Detective Lewandowski and Father Złóbcokiski make chase, discovering one horrific scene after another as bodies of patients and workers alike pile up. In the dark, the two are separated and the detective finds himself at the front door with the Quince Creek Killer. They point at the door and the detective, bathed in the strange light, moves to open it. Suddenly, the priest reappears, strangling Jan to death with a blood red rosary. An exposition occurs along side another chase, where the Quince Creek Killer attempts to barricade doors as they go. During this it is learned that the Sanctuary is a host to “God” who lies sleeping deep within the Earth under the building. The priest and the rest of the staff plan to sacrifice chosen victims, whose blood will wake the sleeping “God”, but now they must start over. The priest laments being unable to kill them for the trouble they’ve caused, as the “bride of Christ” must remain untouched before becoming the “seed of the woman”. In the distance, the priest is heard becoming entangled in an unseen trap. All is silent save for the locking of doors as they go. They enter a water therapy area. Covered in blood, the patient begins to undress. A new voice, unseen, whispers harshly from a high height, it says “You mustn’t”. Ignoring the voice, they bathe, washing the blood off. They take a deep breath before going beneath the water. Blood swirls in the water as they reemerge, clean. The Quince Creek Killer finally speaks, saying ”Thank God”in a relieved tone. Father Złóbcokiski springs from the water, lassoing their neck with the rosary. The two tussle under the water. The outcome of this fight, seen from high above, has Father Złóbcokiski the winner, standing sopping by the pool’s edge with the patient on their side, still naked. There is a prominent jump in time, a completely different location, the Holy Trinity Asylum long forgotten by the outside world. Exsanguinate bodies are arranged around fountain pouring in blood. Blood runs through a narrow maze of carved lines etched into the floor. A single drop enters a circular opening in the floor. Nurses outlined in that strange light are coming and going in leisure. People sounding more like beasts slam their bodies against heavy doors. One of these doors are opened, a nurse and the Father walk in. The patient is laying, numbly, in bed, arms bound behind them to the metal headboard. They open their mouth to take a pill like communion. The nurse leaves the two in the room alone. They exchange words, the conversation leaving the priest laughing as he goes back into the hall. The door is closed and locked. Blood is seeping into the bedding, the result of subtle yet determined movements against the handcuffs. Metal digs further into deeper flesh as the movements increase in urgency.

[du-buk]

Ive got a theory!! might be forgetting some stuff but in the scene where Ryker stabs Vittorino in the hand, he laughs and says that he has nerve damage (some sort of injury?) and the stab didnt hurt him. also when Ryker found some sort of medical log (?) of the guy who got an eye surgery and then weeks later had weird black stuff instead of intestines (?) so that and other stuff makes me wonder if there was ongoing malpractice going on in there and that has to do with disappearances/ trauma

Interesting to read anon! Let's discuss this too, as I have a lot to say;

Light spoilers ahead‼️General warnings for medical trauma, etc.

First;

It's tough to say that the disappearances of holy men, and others, are due to one solid reason. We might see some changes in the update regarding the towns people, and how they view the Basilica. But the same unified reaction of "that place is cursed/awful" will stick. The catacombs under the Basilica contribute to a lot of the missing cases, but also the mistreatment of priests that lived there (as we will see in the sequel). We will come back to this in a bit.

Now, yes, Vittorino and many other priests have endured abuse. (I mean, talking with the guy at his introduction, losing his mind and choking himself, doesn't show signs of someone who is sane.) That being said, it's going to be very difficult to take anything he says as truth. I like to write him as a character that plays two truths, and one lie. He's unreliable.

But he says this, when we meet him;

He's not sound of mind, often calling other priests "rabbits", as that is how the chairmen referred to him and others. But he's claiming that the overcrowding in living conditions made priests turn on another, either killing each other due to violent rages, or other, mischievous ways.

The overpopulation didn't correct itself, even with these incidents. Perhaps the chairmen thought of other ways to correct this..... such as "accidental" deaths? Who knows for now.

And the medical journals we find all around? Well, it's tough to say for sure what is all being written. But for sure it speaks of this;

Remember this conversation, with Ryker, Accardi, and Juliek? There seems to be a old rumor that priests would preform "limb transferring" surgeries.

It was banned, as Accardi states that often times when this procedure was done a (unspecified) time ago, the results usually lead to the patients going insane and reporting being haunted by whoever owned the original organ or limb that was donated. These practices, and others, occurred at the Basilica for sure. So... that leaves us with the question; were these practices performed on everyone's favorite priest, Vittorino? As you(and himself) said, he said he cannot feel any pain in his hands due to nerve damage. It's a possibility he had something done to him.... other than mental trauma, hahaha.

Good to note that, while this is all good concrete evidence something is going on.......... Please understand that I like ambiguous stories. So, not everything here, especially concerning the Basilica, will be explained. Perhaps it is better this way, as, I doubt even Vittorino knows everything that happened here.

And I must ask of this; while theories like this are fun; I do not write my characters or stories to rely on body horror that is offensive towards disfigured people. Medical horror is explored, but, not at the expense of people's appearances. I find those tropes (much like what we see in Midsommar, for example) unnecessarily cruel. The body horror in 8:11 is shown through the fear of surgeries going wrong/healing going wrong, eye/other trauma, and through a SURREAL sense (like when Accardi helps with surgery in one scene, and we are to help put yarn inside someone's body.) Please respect this, thank you.

[lunaralight09]

Could you do books that the scps might read?

Books that the SCPs might read

SCP 035 Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins Anna is shipped off to boarding school in Paris where she meets the super-charming Etienne, and that's when things get interesting. I was a squealing, giggly, mush-fest all the while through reading this book. Stephanie Perkins knows just how to turn a seemingly ordinary love story into an unputdownable read. SCP 040 Your Brain Needs a Hug: Life, Love, Mental Health, and Sandwiches Just the title of this book by Rae Earl makes us feel a little lighter. And we don’t know about you, but our brains could definitely use a hug right now. While the book is geared towards teens, we found Earl’s advice to be relevant for all ages — particularly for anyone who struggles with depression, anxiety, social media addiction, and self-esteem issues. TBH, pretty much anyone can benefit from this book! SCP 049 And the Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini And the Mountains Echoed is such an amazing and heartwarming read. It's about a pair of siblings that fate cruelly separates and then finally reunites. A must-read for its simple yet gripping narration and amiable characters. SCP 049-j The Red Notebook by Antoine Laurain This is a French romance novella, and basically a love letter to book lovers. There's mystery, romance, and some of the most beautifully crafted sentences and paragraphs I have ever read. The ending is so sweet, even though you wonder how you ever got there so soon. SCP 053 Lulu and the Rabbit Next Door by Hilary McKay Lulu and her cousin help their neighbor Arthur learn to love and care for his (neglected) rabbit. She doesn’t want her neighbor to feel bad so she writes the rabbit little notes with helpful gifts signed from her own pet rabbit named Thumper. It’s a kind way to show Arthur how to take care of his new pet SCP 073 HumanKind: Changing the World One Small Act At a Time Looking for heart-warming stories of kindness and compassion? HumanKind by Brad Aronson was made for you. But the book isn’t only full of uplifting stories that will move you to happy tears, it’s also packed with practical and actionable tips for how to be kinder in your everyday. One thing is for sure: after you put this book down, you’ll feel inspired to do something nice for someone else. And because of that, we think this is one of the best books on the planet! SCP 076 Do Unto Animals We absolutely DEVOURED this book by Tracey Stewart. Whether you’re looking for tips on how to better understand skunks and squirrels or read your pet’s body language, every page is full of compassionate wisdom about to treat animals in a way that they deserve. Also, the illustrations are absolutely beautiful — we nearly wanted to pet the pages because the animal drawings were so lovable. SCP 079 Walden (Henry David Thoreau) With the outdoorsman renaissance happening as we speak, it is nice to look back at one of the books that probably started it. Walden isn’t the bore you read back in middle school, it takes time to appreciate like a nice bottle of red. Thoreau’s masterpiece tackles so much while quietly nudging your brain into activity. It also makes you want to build a cabin SCP 096 Black Beauty by Anna Sewell Told from the perspective of the horse, this story is so beautifully written that it's easy to get lost in it's pages. I laughed and cried, as did my daughter when she read it. SCP 105 Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury Warm and fuzzy the whole way through, Dandelion Wine is by far the best story to make you feel good. Though I'm not the correct age to directly relate to the young adult story, I still felt the warm summer days and the wonder of it all. SCP 106 Catch-22 – Joseph Heller “War is hell,” is the old adage we all know, but Catch-22 looks to modify that a bit. Instead, war becomes super goddamn weird. The book follows a bomber squadron in the Second World War whose collective sanity is slowly being eroded by whatever passes for power. Throughout it all, the main character keeps trying to prove himself insane enough to be kicked out of the Navy, which is precisely why he can’t

be kicked out. Which is a catch 22 and yes, this is where the phrase comes from. It’s a great extrapolation of quirks and idiosyncrasies we see in day to day life, only this time, they’re affecting war SCP 134 (I know she don't have eyes . But there is a books for blind people) A Mango-Shaped Space by Wendy Mass A Mango-Shaped Space is about a 13-year-old girl with synesthesia (she can see, taste, and hear colors) and her journey in getting a diagnosis and accepting herself and all her differences. It's sort of a coming-of-age story, too. As someone with multiple chronic illnesses who has gone through the same process at the same age, this really was an incredible reading experience. One of my favorite quotes is "We all do the best we can, trying to keep all the balls in the air at once." I recommend it to everyone. SCP 173 Rabbit, Run (John Updike) The greatest mid-life crisis novel of all time doesn’t actually deal with a mid-life crisis at all. Harry “Rabbit” Angstrom is 26 when he decides to leave his wife and son for a new life. Of course, what that new life is, and what exactly he wants out of it isn’t clear to the reader or to Rabbit himself. It will strike a cord with all men who struggle with the idea of settling down. SCP 239 The Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling SCP 682 THE WOLF AND THE WATCHMAN BY NIKLAS NATT OCH DAG If you're the kind of person that can't get enough of Scandi noir films, TV shows and literature, then Niklas Natt och Dag's The Wolf And The Watchman should be next on your reading list. Set in 18th-century Stockholm, this tale is as dark as it gets, following the titular watchman and a detective as they hunt down the killer behind a dismembered corpse that appears in a local pond. As gruesome as it is gripping, it's the perfect literary companion as the nights get longer and increasingly eerie. SCP 847 The Case Against Satan by Ray Russell Two priests are called in to examine a girl who might be possessed by the devil. The Exorcist, right? Nope, it’s Ray Russell‘s The Case Against Satan, a novel of theological horror that beat William Peter Blatty’s book to print by eight years. The Case Against Satan is as much the story of a crisis of faith as it is a supernatural tale, and readers looking for a nuanced take on both should give it a try SCP 953 THE PILLOW BOOK BY SEI SHŌNAGON If you want to learn a bit more about the Japan of the past – and also, weirdly, all of us in the present – The Pillow Book is a cult classic you should absolutely try. Sei Shōnagon was a lady-in-waiting in the court of Empress Teishi in the year 1000 and here she collects her thoughts and musings about court life. To read a woman more than 1,000 years ago being as philosophical, neurotic and scandalous as anyone is today on social media is a thrill that lasts from the start to the end. SCP 1678 Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden Absolutely moving, the struggles Sayuri faces are painted so beautifully by Arthur Golden's masterful craft that you totally empathize with her as she grows and triumphs in a world designed to see her fail. The ultimate conclusion of the novel fills me with such warmth — it's both entirely unexpected and wholeheartedly appreciated.

[notapaladin]

Obsidian and Blood, an overview

Do you like fantasy? Do you like mysteries? Do you like Mesoamerican mythology? Do you like ALL OF THOSE THINGS TOGETHER, set against the lush backdrop of Tenochtitlan in 1480? (Or maybe you just want to know more about the series I have been going feral over since August.) Then buckle up, because oh boy have I got a series for you!

*drumroll, please*

OBSIDIAN AND BLOOD, written by Aliette de Bodard (better known for her Xuya and Dominion of the Fallen series)

There are two kinds of people: Those who see the words “Aztec fantasy/murder mysteries set in very well-researched 1480s Tenochtitlan BUT WITH MAGIC, investigated by the HIGH PRIEST OF THE GOD OF DEATH” and immediately ran off to buy them, and those who clearly need convincing. So here I am, shamelessly plugging my new hyperfixation!

Obsidian and Blood consists of three semi-standalone novels and three (free!) prequel short stories, all featuring 30-year-old Acatl as our first-person POV mystery solver. Acatl is not, however, your average historical detective; aside from being set firmly in Tenochtitlan in 1480 with all that implies re. the acceptability of slavery and human sacrifice, he also is the High Priest of Mictlantecuhtli in a universe where the gods regularly meddle in mortal affairs and magic spells are powered largely by rituals and blood—animal, human, or your own. You’d think this would make Acatl really, really good at solving murders, but you’d be wrong. He is the least of the Triple Alliance’s three High Priests, and his god doesn’t come at his servant’s beck and call. Not to mention the other gods, who have their own deadly agendas. That’s not even getting into the people around him, who might be the most dangerous of all. Luckily, he has more allies than he thinks—if he has the strength to actually reach out to them and admit he could use the help!

(He doesn’t need to reach out to his student Teomitl. Teomitl, a confident young warrior of imperial blood, keeps volunteering. This gives Acatl roughly one heart attack per book.)

You will like them if…

I did just say “magic murder mysteries in 1480s Tenochtitlan,” right? It’s real Precolumbian Mexico hours up in here! The history of the Aztec Empire and their Triple Alliance actually forms multiple key plot points throughout the series!

you’re into Aztec history/culture in general

if a DnD fan, you are REALLY into the Raven Queen

you think blood magic is super cool and wish it wasn’t treated as the realm of The Bad Guys

you get incredibly hyped over lesser-known mythologies treated respectfully but also very awesomely (the thing where the Aztecs thought human sacrifice kept the sun in the sky? Yeah, in this universe it is literally true and plot-relevant)

you are big into chaste heroes, lots of snarky asides, highly opinionated narrators who let their own prejudices destroy them, “from an outside perspective this is cosmic horror but for the characters it is a Tuesday,” mysteries with twists you will NOT see coming, and themes of trauma/memories/family legacies

you love reading about dysfunctional family relationships in various states of repair/further destruction

you’ve ever thought “hey this historical mystery is cool but what if there was MAGIC”

you like noir detective stories but want them with magic

you like urban fantasy but want them to have historical settings instead of vaguely modern-day ones

Plot/character summaries below!

SHORT STORIES (prequels to the novels, blurbs by me)

Obsidian Shards

Warriors have been found dead in the town of Colhuacan, obsidian shards embedded in their hearts. Acatl, priest of Mictlantecuhtli, suspects a creature of the Underworld—one he already calls a foe, for it slew his first and last apprentice.

Beneath the Mask

In the Tenochtitlan suburb of Coyoacan, Acatl’s childhood friend Huchimitl begs him to save her only son’s war captive; the man whose sacrifice will make the boy a proper warrior is paralyzed from an unknown curse, unable even to rise from the floor. But who could have cursed him, and is it connected to the mask Huchimitl now wears?

Safe, Child, Safe

A toddler is slowly wasting away, the mark of the Underworld on him, and Acatl is tasked with finding the cause. But no creature of the Underworld kills so slowly, and so Acatl must turn his investigation to the living.

THE BOOKS (blurbs taken directly from the book listings, you don’t HAVE to read them in order but I do recommend it)

Servant of the Underworld

Year One-Knife, Tenochtitlan; the capital of the Mexica Empire. Human sacrifice and the magic of living blood are the only things keeping the sun in the sky and the earth fertile. A Priestess disappears from an empty room drenched in blood. It should be a usual investigation for Acatl, High Priest of the Dead—except that his estranged brother is involved, and the more he digs, the deeper he is drawn into the political and magical intrigues of noblemen, soldiers, and priests—and of the gods themselves...

(Neutemoc: I didn't mean to sleep with her! It was an accident! Acatl: I don't understand. Did you trip?) (Acatl: I don't want a new apprentice! Teomitl: :D? Acatl: ...I will make an exception)

Harbinger of the Storm

The year is Two House, and the Emperor of the Mexica has just died. The protections he afforded the Empire are crumbling, and the way lies wide open to flesh-eating star-demons—and to the return of their creator, a malevolent goddess only held in check by the War God's power. The council should convene to choose a new Emperor, but they are too busy plotting against each other. And then someone starts summoning star-demons within the palace, to kill councilmen...Acatl, High Priest of the Dead, must find the culprit before everything is torn apart.

(Teomitl: I've only had Acatl and Mihmatini for a year, but if anything happens to them I'll kill everyone in this room and then myself) (Quenami: Playing With The Big Boys.mp3)

Master of the House of Darts

The year is Three Rabbit, and the storm is coming. The Mexica Empire now has a new Emperor, but his coronation war has just ended in a failure: the armies have retreated with a paltry forty prisoners of war, not near enough sacrifices to satisfy the gods. Acatl, High Priest for the Dead, has no desire to involve himself yet again in the intrigues of the powerful. However, when one of the prisoners dies of a magical illness, he has little choice but to investigate. For it is only one death, but it will not be the last. As the bodies pile up and the imperial court tears itself apart, dragging Teomitl, Acatl's beloved student, into the eye of the storm, the High Priest for the Dead is going to have to choose whom he can afford to trust; and where, in the end, his loyalties ultimately lie...

(Teomitl: I am no longer Baby I want Power) (Acatl, to Teomitl: What have you got there? Nezahual, gleefully: A coup! Acatl: NO!)

THE MAIN CHARACTERS (in order of appearance)

ACATL “By my face and by my heart, I’ll bring you justice.” High Priest of Mictlantecuhtli, god of death and the underworld. As such, his duties include both the obvious ones of arranging funerals and standing vigils for the dead, and the less obvious ones of investigating magical crimes and keeping the boundaries between the heavens, Earth, and the underworld intact. When Servant of the Underworld begins, he’s only recently been promoted and hates it. Has a strained relationship with his living family, due largely to not having lived up to his (dead) parents’ desires for him to become a warrior like his brother Neutemoc. Bitter, cynical, and grumpy, but devoted to justice and fairness.

Has an official character sheet.

CEYAXOCHITL “Everyone has to grow up and take responsibilities. Even small, humble priests.” Guardian of the Sacred Precinct and wielder of the power of the Duality (Ometeotl), which makes her the sworn protector of the Mexica Empire and its Revered Speaker from all sorts of mainly-magical threats. Somewhat past middle age but still very strong in her magical abilities, and something of an antagonistic mentor to Acatl. (She nominated him for the position of High Priest. He is not appreciative.) Serious and devoted to her duty, with a keen eye for potential in others. Dies in Harbinger of the Storm and you WILL cry.

NEUTEMOC “Priests hide and run away. Warriors don’t.” Acatl’s older brother, a Jaguar Knight with five children and a failing marriage. Resents Acatl for not helping to support their aging parents by becoming a warrior like he did. The central suspect during most of Servant of the Underworld’s plot, though by the end he and Acatl have begun to repair their relationship. He is strict, stern, and bitter, but truly loves his family. (In the case of his younger brother, that love is buried very deep down.)

TEOMITL “If we don’t believe in ourselves, who is going to?” Acatl’s student, an enthusiastic warrior who yearns to prove himself worthy of his power and noble rank, as well as live up to the memory of the mother who died birthing him. During Servant of the Underworld he swears himself to Chalchiuhtlicue, goddess of fresh water and lakes, gaining (among other things) command over the man-eating water monsters called ahuitzotls. He is courting Mihmatini during Harbinger of the Storm; by the time Master of the House of Darts takes place, they are married. He is abrasive and proud, but also honest, loyal, and brave. And very, very ambitious. You will want to punch him several times. This is normal. (Also, I will swear that it's not just my ship-goggles being on too tight that has me thinking his relationship with Acatl is much more weighty and personal than the one he has with his ACTUAL WIFE.)

MIHMATINI “Better laugh, and smile at the flowers and jade. Life is too short to be spent grieving.” Acatl and Neutemoc’s youngest sister, a powerful magic-user who finds herself thrust into the position of Guardian during Harbinger of the Storm. Though she has no great ambitions herself—she mostly just wants to be a mother and raise children—she is ferociously protective of her family and will fight anything that threatens them. Even themselves. (Especially themselves.) Kind, caring, and light-hearted, but her acid tongue and sharp temper are not to be dismissed. "Fuck Around And Find Out" given human form.

ACAMAPICHTLI “We have always endured.” High priest of Tlaloc and a reoccurring thorn in Acatl’s side. Though he’s primarily out for his own gain and has no patience for Acatl’s refusal to play on the field of Imperial politics, they eventually form something like an uneasy truce following the end of Harbinger of the Storm. He is snarky and sardonic, but truly cares for his clergy. During Master of the House of Darts he somehow became one of my favorite characters.

TIZOC "I've always known that priests couldn't be trusted. You have just exceeded my expectations." Teomitl’s older brother, first Master of the House of Darts and then Revered Speaker. (Look, it’s not a spoiler if you can Google it.) He is cowardly, ambitious, and the closest thing this series has to an overarching antagonist. Among other things, tries to have Acatl executed during Harbinger of the Storm. Events at the end of that book only manage to make him measurably worse. "Ah There He Is, That Motherfucker, What A Tool" #1.

QUENAMI “Oh, Acatl. Such lack of tact. You are so unsuited for the Court.” High Priest of Huitzilpochtli, appointed by Tizoc between Servant of the Underworld and Harbinger of the Storm. Comes from a noble family, and is much better at diplomacy and playing politics than he is at magic. When push comes to shove, however, he can display some surprising determination. He is arrogant, scheming, and takes joy in cutting Acatl down, but presumably has some good qualities...somewhere. "Ah There He Is, That Motherfucker, What A Tool" #2.

Maps of the series’ primary setting

Setting Primers

Official Character Index

Glossary

[queenmuzz]

Mors aurem vellens, 'Vivite,' ait, 'venio'  Chapter III

Firstfruit Offering

The sun shone in your eyes, causing you to flinch.  How long had you slept?  Of course, you’d had a long trip, and your body didn’t have the stamina it used to, but surely you wouldn’t be so negligent as to sleep until mid morning?  But the way the shadows caused by the pillars stretched out on the marble, you had definitely overslept. Using your staff, you almost ran into the inner sanctum, terrified that you had the sacred fire die out.  From your interactions last night, you were almost certain that Vergil was not the type of God to have his rites besmirched.   What a dishonour it would be, to be slain for blasphemy on your first day as Temple Priestess!

Thankfully, the flames still flickered, albeit weakly, eating the last of the log, the embers now almost ash.  

So you gingerly placed another log from your small stash, as to not smother the little flame.  You cautiously began to blow at the base of the charred log, only stopping when the flames began to lick and scorch at the new logs shreds, kindling into a new flame.  With a sigh of relief, you slowly got back up.  In the light of mid morning, the temple, while eerily silent, was less foreboding than last evening, and the whistling wind seemed less strange. 

Even the presence of Vergil, unseen, but ever present was much less terrifying.  You could feel him, watching your every move, but not as overwhelming and less judgemental as last night, you still felt him as you walked back to your messy bedroll.  After all, he could have just struck you down for sleeping in, for almost losing the fire, he was well within his rights as God within his Temple.  But he just remained silent as his shrine statue.

You arrived back to your modest sleeping area, and as you rolled up your bundle, you noticed something. There, sitting at the foot of the bed was a bundle of brown fur. Upon closer inspection showed that there was one...no two...rabbits laying dead.  For a brief moment, you panicked, you had heard of feuding families leaving dead animals in the beds of their enemies as a warning.  But these ones seemed placed at the foot of the bed, and not where you would have noticed them upon waking.  And the way they were positioned, they kind of reminded you of when the barn cats would present dead mice to you and your siblings, as some sort of ‘gift’. Had Vergil given them to you as a ‘welcome present?’ You had to stifle an inward snicker at the mental image of the God carrying the pair of rabbits in his mouth before dropping it at your feet, and you hoped that he didn’t have the ability to read minds.  But, even though you still felt like you were being watched, there was no change in the intensity, and so you relaxed, and allowed yourself to utter out a soft ‘Thank you’ into the still air.  There was a shimmer in the light, the roots of the giant plant seemed to shift slightly, but then, all was silent.  You picked both of the rabbits up, and a knife contemplating on what to do with them.  Skinning them would be the first step of course, but what then?  Roasting them sounded delicious, but you had no time to turn a spit, undoubtedly today would be busy.  But perhaps...a stew?  You had a turnip, and some wild herbs that you’d picked up on your travels.  Unfortunately, a stew was not a stew worth eating without some bread to soak up the juices, and you were practically down to crusts of  bread so stale, that not even an ocean of stew would soften them up....

“Hello?!”  A voice rang out, startling you out of your thoughts.  You placed your knife down and followed the voice.  From what you had heard, no one ever came here, the entire countryside thought  land was cursed, and the temple shouldn’t have any visitors.  Still, it would be rude as Temple Priestess to not greet the person, even if they were lost.

“Hello? Anyone here?” The voice repeated, more louder, and it came from the common area.   Strange, you swore you could smell freshly baked bread.

Ah, there the visitor, a plump, auburn haired woman with a ruddy complexion, dressed in a simple peasant’s dress, carrying a basket, looking around slightly worriedly, and muttering to herself. 

“I do hope nothing bad happened to her, if something did….Enrico, I’m going to...” she growled, but whatever her threat was cut off by your appearance.

“AH!  There you are! When I heard that my Dear'' the faux deference dripped through, “husband left you all by your lonesome here, at NIGHT of all times, without inviting you to spend the night at our farm place, I was THIS close,” she pinched the fingers of her free hand together, almost touching, “to making him sleep with the pigs.  Damn fool…”  she brushed the hair away from her face, and looked around.  “So, I told him that I was going to come here this morning, and that he either come along, or be in charge of all the chores.” She chuckled, “Guess which he picked? He’s so superstitious, he’d rather have to milk the cows, feed the chickens, AND look after our little son than set foot here.  Anyways,” she smiled and gave a curtsy, “I’m Cecilia Elesion, wife of the lovable idiot, Enrico.  And I figured to myself, ‘that poor girl is all by herself, a newcomer, with no one lookin’ out for herself, so I’m gonna take a look out for her.’  Rico begged me not to go, but I insisted.  It’s ‘bout time someone took care of this Temple, it’s been abandoned for ages.” She took a look around, her eyes trailing the roots that wound themselves the pillars. “Ah, yes...I suppose you could call this a ‘Welcome to your new home’ gift.  I made em’ meself!”  She handed you the basket, and the gingham sheet that covered slipped off, revealing several loaves of freshly baked bread, some even designed in a braided pattern.  This wasn’t the leftover scraps of a farm wife's dough, these were the first loaves.  Cecelia was obviously sincere in her devotion.  

“Thank you!” you breathed in the scent as you took the basket.  After months of bread hard enough to crack teeth, warm fresh bread was glorious.  It would make a fantastic addition to the rabbit stew you had planned.  It would be  your first proper meal since you had left your home village.  For an instant, you felt a bit homesick, memories of your mother’s hearty stew.  You grasped her hand in thanks, trying to invoke a blessing, but a familiar chill trickled up your spine, and you felt a whisper in the shell of your ear.

“Ah….it appears she has been blessed by my Mother….” Vergil’s voice nearly startled you, unexpected as it was.  He’d been so content to lurk in the background, that you’d momentarily forgotten about his presence.  You paused for a moment, a frown on your face as you tried to decipher what he said.  Eva’s blessing… AHA!  The generous woman in front of you was with child, even if she didn’t show it, perhaps she didn’t even know it.

“Is something wrong?” Cecelia asked, misinterpreting your frown for a concern.  You hesitated, not knowing how to go around such a delicate subject.  As a child, you remember your mother slapping a man when he asked her when she was expecting, even when she wasn’t pregnant.  Should  you even mention it?  You decided, you  had been given a message from a God, it wouldn’t do to not relay it.

“I am just a little concerned with you going through all this effort, carrying all this load while expecting.”  After all, a pregnant woman shouldn’t exert herself too much.  She should be informed of her condition, in order to prepare herself.

Cecelia’s reaction was unexpected.  She turned pale, and a tinge of fear passed over her face. “You...you could tell?”

Ah, so she already knew.

“Well, I was told,” you admitted, glancing at the statue.  Strange, she should be happy, excited for a new addition to the family, not looking like she was about to burst out in tears.

“No one knows yet, not even Enrico.” she confessed, a sheen of sweat coming over her forehead.  You quickly leant your arm to help her down to the floor. “We’ve tried so hard after our only son, so many losses, that this time… this time I couldn’t bear to  let him know, I didn’t want to get his hopes up once again, only for them to come crashing down.  Our little Credo...he was our miracle child...I had resigned myself to focusing on just him.”  She looked at you, dawning horror on her face.  “He told you?  Does that mean…?”  She couldn’t speak further, the poor woman looked like she was going to pass out.

The whisper came again, without a hint of deception, “I have no claims on her unborn child nor her, not for many years, my Mother shall guide her through both their journeys.”  His words, while spoken firmly and without empathy, were a relief to you.  

Oh, so this was going to be  a Priestess’s job?  You’d always assumed that it would be a rather insular job, tending to the hearth, offering prayers, not relaying messages like the more outgoing Gods’ priests.  You knelt down towards the trembling woman, speaking as soothingly as possible. “It’s alright...He has spoken to me, and he says that you and your child are safe.”  

The woman scanned your face, trying to find out if  you were truly speaking the truth, or just speaking false words of comfort, before the impact of what you had said hit her.

“You’re...you’re certain?”  

You nodded, inwardly relieved as the ruddiness returned to her cheeks.  What you didn’t expect was her hugging you.

“Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!”  You swore you could hear your ribs cracking, “A thousand blessings upon you.  You have no idea how much both of us have been praying to Mother Eva for another child, we were almost planning on making a Pilgrimage to Fortuna.  But if you and Him say…”  she looked to you for one last confirmation, and smiled brightly.  “Rico will be delighted when I tell him.  And to think…” her old grin came back, “he’d rather clean up chicken droppings than set foot in this place.”  She looked down at the basket, momentarily forgotten, “this is poor payment, but is there anything, ANYTHING you need that our family can provide, we can do it.”

“Well,” you thought.  In truth, the fact the Temple was located on lifeless ground, meant you were without much sustenance, so maybe… “Wood for the sacred hearth.  I need a supply to keep the flame burning.”

“Say no more,” Cecilia assured you as she got back onto her feet, “you will lack for nothing. We’re just poor humble farmers, but we can provide you and Him the essentials.  Whatever you need!” 

She gave a curtsy to you, paused before the statue, and clasped her hands to speak a short silent prayer.  For a brief moment, you swore you saw the roots quiver, but when tried to take a closer look, they were still.  But something in the air was different, other than the smell of bread, there was a vibration, a smell of fresh earth, but then it was sucked up, like water to a dry sponge.

And with that the woman left, a spring to her step, so out of place in such a dour looking place.

*******

Vergil watched as the little plump woman hurried out, singing a merry tune.  Mortals got far too excited over small things.  While he spoke the truth,  that for now, he had no claims on her or her child, in a short amount of his time, he would claim one, then the other.  That went for everyone, none could escape his reach.  Perhaps that’s why people were afraid of him, that they would attempt to avoid his inevitable arrival to end their pitiful lives.  But this was strange.  That woman had… thanked him?  To him, a God of Death, be given thanks felt...fulfilling.  A surge of energy, more potent than life blood coursed through him, and the Qliphoth’s roots seemed to twitch in response.  

“Well, that was kind of you.”  His sense of puzzlement was dissipated as the voice of his Priestess, who was watching the woman’s receding form. 

He stood beside her, still invisible and scoffed, “She provided an offering, I felt it would be poor form to let her leave without being compensated.” “But you didn’t have to do that.  You made her so happy!” she placed her hands together, “If you did that more often, perhaps more people would visit your temple!”

“And what makes you think I want people to ‘visit’?”

“Well…” she stroked her chin, “I assumed you would be lonely all by yourself here.  After all, that’s what temples and shrines are for, right?  To be a meeting point for both mortals and Deities.  Us mortals give you offerings and our prayers, and you give us advice, prophecies  and sometimes intercede on our behalf.”

She looked outside.  “Where I come from, in the wild forests…packs of monkeys and herds of  deer travel together.  The deer, with their keen noses, lead the monkeys to fresh vegetation with nuts and fruits, and the monkeys, sitting high above the trees, have a good view of the surrounding area and can alert the deer when a tiger is prowling downwind of the herd.  A relationship in which both benefit.”

Vergil was annoyed by her simple observation. “I need none of that.” “Well, you’re the only God I know who doesn’t appreciate or encourage worship.  Lady Trish has people flocking to her for her for rain-bringing storms, Lord Dante practically has entire battalions marching through his temples, praying for victory.  Even poets and writers make the pilgrimage from miles to beg the gift of inspiration from Lord V-”

“DO NOT SPEAK THAT NAME!”

The roots of the Qliphoth rippled with energy, and he had to control them from jerking.  Just the mention of that cursed name brought back memories that he could not bear. In response to his rage the roots demanded blood, lifeforce, something to sate their ever ravenous hunger.  And they sensed the Priestess, standing there, so weak and vulnerable.  Easy prey.

“I’m sorry,” she spoke apologetically, but refreshingly not with overly emotional supplication.  Just her calm voice, startled at his outburst but without the expected fear, was enough to let his rage subside.  She stood there, unaware how close she was to death, her eyes staring through him.  She still couldn’t see him, of course, he would not allow it, but her steady and firm stance was  unafraid of his wrath.  Perhaps her expecting death in such a short time left her without fear.  

No, he ordered them to stand down, and they reluctantly complied, she has no idea of what she speaks of, he thought, and besides...she still has more use to me alive than dead...for now.

Still, his rage hadn’t truly subsided…did he really need her, another priest that would eventually stab him in the back? “I need no one.” He hissed, his voice sizzled through the temple like a winter’s wind.  “I need no worshippers….I need no priestess.”

And without allowing her to respond, he left, not even looking back.  She would no doubt leave after his outburst...any sane person would.   He was fine with that.

He did not need her.

He did not need anyone.

All He needed was power.

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 28

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 28 - Immortal

In some remote mountainous areas in the south, Miao women used clay pots and menstrual blood to raise hundreds of insects. They sealed them, placed them in a damp place and cast curses on them. Once the day was done, the poisonous insects will have killed each other and the last one was embodied with Gu poison*. The curse made with Gu poison could make someone's love interest fall helplessly in love with them for the rest of his life, and it could also plague one's enemy with nightmares, madness, and even death. The women who concocted Gu poison were typically loners, often muttering to no one, avoided by the general public.

*(T/N: 蛊 - Gu poison was believed to be the combination of all the venoms from the insects that died and would be used for black magic in southern regions of China)

In Nanyang Black Magic, they would use the body of a baby that died recently, boiled out the toyol*, poured it on a puppet doused in human blood and placed it in the home. The imprisoned baby ghost would protect the house but the curse-caster will be punished. They would also carve birthdates into wood, causing the other to die.

*(T/N: 尸油 - literally 'corpse oil.' I'll spare you the graphic details but basically taking a dead body's chin and boiling it until oil drains out of it)

This black magic flourished in the Ming Dynasty. The Eastern Depot eunuchs* were in turmoil. Everyone was reporting each other, no one would speak to each other, eyes darting between each other daily. These curses were developed as a branch of Daoism to oppose political rivals. A-Yan said that the Daoist practices used to drive out ghosts and save people were declining, but this black magic has stuck around. It was one of the biggest spots in Daoist history.

*(T/N: 东厂 - a secret police & spy agency run by eunuchs meant to suppress political opposition towards the emperor)

Saturday morning was a beautiful day. The sun was shining but not to the point of being unbearably hot. The distant mountains stood silently under the blue sky. A black Audi passed quickly through the country’s tree-lined roads, raising a cloud of grit and dust. A white goose with its head held high on the roadside was startled by the car, flapping its wings and stretching its neck to hide behind a fence.

The car stopped at a small farmhouse in the northwest corner of the village.

In the courtyard, a tall Shuzi tree stretched out dense branches, looking extraordinarily vibrant. In contrast, the entire courtyard was strangely decrepit. A well was covered by a millstone and the stone-paced path was full of weeds. The doors of the three mud-brick houses were closed, with straw curtains covering the doors and windows covered with dust.

Everything was very different from a month ago. Lin Yan remembered that the last time he came here, there were hens and rabbits. The old lady in blue embroidered clothing was kneeling on the futon with her eyes closed. The small courtyard was filled with the mysterious atmosphere of the countryside. The current yard would give people the impression that the homeowner hadn't been home for years when, in fact, a fresh grave in the back of the mountain had only been built a month ago. Rural people were convinced that the houses inhabited by the living were blessed by the gods and sheltered from the elements for decades. Once the owner of the house dies, the gods will follow, so the empty house often collapsed and was destroyed in less than six months.

"When Second Immortal Gu was in the village, she would help children that fell sick with fever, and the adults that were dealing with evil spirits. Young men would ask her when they'd get married and, for the right price, she'd tell them." The village chief said with a cigarette in his mouth.

The village leader knew Yin Zhou’s mother well. He heard that Yin Zhou wanted to bring someone to pay tribute to Second Immortal Gu and waited at the entrance of the village to welcome them. It took ten minutes to drive from the village leader's house to Second Immortal Gu’s house. The village head smoked four cigarettes in a row. Yin Zhou squeezed his eyes shut while Lin Yan and the little Daoist priest twisted their heads out of the window every 30 seconds to gasp for a breath of fresh air. The village chief was the only one of them chatting in the smoky car. Lin Yan saw how the complaints of three people and a ghost just flew over his head.

If a ghost could complain.

Lin Yan found a roll of incense from the little Daoist's bag and lit it. He put the incense burner at the door of the mud-brick house and offered his respects.

"Last time, we left just before Second Immortal Gu had her accident. I should have come to offer some incense sooner, it's just things with school got busy and I haven't been able to make it until now." Lin Yan brushed the straw curtain and the accumulated dust fell on his face. "Cough, cough. Does - Does anyone take care of this place?"

"Of course not. You big city kids wouldn't know. Doing this line of work is only good for putting food on the table. Immortal Gu came out here in her twenties. In less than ten years, her husband and two sons had died and she was the only one left. She couldn't even save herself." The village leader stuffed his yellow striped shirt into his pants. "Don't feel bad. No immortal in this village could escape that fate."

"Come on, let's go, you guys are here to see her grave. We don't put up any gravestones here. We just build a stone platform, but the villagers will remember who it's for. I'll take you up there."

The sun was growing hotter. Several of them used broken branches to smack the grass in case of snakes while they hiked up the rugged mountain trail. A rural cemetery wasn't as neat as an urban cemetery. Each family claimed a spot, with every newly deceased buried next to the rest of their family. The grave was a prominent mound of dirt with a large stone on top. Some of the graves were too old to even make out the mound, the ground studded with small light blue flowers. A date palm tree grew wildly, and they needed to watch their step when walking so they wouldn't disturb the resting dead.

Second Immortal Gu's grave was off on its own. The mound was freshly dug. Other than a crooked wreath lying on it, it was indistinguishable from the older graves that had been abandoned for years.

The scene made Lin Yan feel incredibly guilty. He burned a large stack of paper dollars in front of the grave, playing with his branch while saying silently in his mind: Auntie, if you're still here, please come back and tell us who harmed you. We'll avenge your death.

The village chief took the cigarettes Lin Yan had bought him and squatted off in the distance to smoke. Lin Yan winked at the little Daoist priest and said softly, "Let's start?"

A-Yan nodded and took out a crumpled photo from his pocket that he had found in a frame in Immortal Gu's house. The immortal in the photo was still very young, wearing a floral cotton jacket and staring vacantly ahead.

"Now isn't a good time. The s-sun is too high. The mountains are filled with Yang energy, and the ghosts may not be able to be reached." A-Yan said. He jumped up and grabbed a twig from the date tree above his head. He hung a spirit summoning flag on it and patted the dust off his shoulders. "Here's a picture, here are the bones. Um, Lin Yan, I'm going to borrow your birthdate for this."

Before Lin Yan had time to ask, the little Daoist priest handed him a dagger. Unlike his usual mahogany sword, this one was actually made of metal. The handle seemed to be a few years old, and the tip of the blade gleaming a bright white in the sunlight.

"H-Hold this for a minute. You might feel a little uncomfortable, but don't let it go." A-Yan instructed: "I-I'll read one sentence and you read the next."

Yin Zhou chuckled but he felt that it probably wasn't the time to laugh so he quickly turned his laughter into a string of coughs.

Surprisingly, A-Yan never stuttered whenever he talked about Taoism and charms, Lin Yan muttered.

Time passed by and it was almost noon. The date trees in the mountains couldn't block the hot sun. After standing there for a long time, most of them were covered in a layer of sweat. The village leader couldn't bear the heat and left to join some nearby people to drink some tea. Lin Yan stood in front of the grave with the dagger in his hand. He rubbed the sweat on his cheeks off with his shoulder, hoping that this time it would be over quickly.

The little Daoist started reciting. His voice didn't sound like proper speech, but the slow rate of speech wasn't too difficult to follow. Lin Yan held the hilt of the dagger and along with the chant. Not even halfway through the incantation, Lin Yan already began to feel that something was wrong. The temperature around him began to drop, and the hot sweat condensed on his back. He kept shivering like he was suffering from heatstroke. A chill came from the handle of the dagger. First, the temperature seeped into his palm, and then his whole arm, up to his shoulders, through the bones in his spine to the back of his head in a numb wave. It was as if he wasn't holding a dagger but a frozen fish that had been left in the bottom tray of the freezer for a year.

The spirit summoning flag above his head began to move.

"It's cold." Lin Yan took a breath and scanned the silent mountains around him. "Have you reached the soul?"

"I t-think I found her." The little Daoist hesitated. "Huh. . . that's weird. . ."

After reciting two more incantations, the bone-chilling cold air had spread to his calves. Lin Yan's teeth chattered and he shivered out: "A-. . . A-Yan, are you sure this is okay. . . it's too. . . cold. . ."

The chanting continued, the little Daoist priest shot him a sideways glance, his eyes cold. Lin Yan can only brace himself to keep follow the mantra incantations, a heavy cold sweat forming on his forehead.

"Hold on for a little longer. The soul is bound to something, I want to break it free." A-Yan gritted his teeth, and a piece of talisman paper was slapped against the blade. All of a sudden, the cold washed over him like a tsunami. Lin Yan's whole body felt like it was being stabbed by needles, veins popping on his forehead from the pain.

"A-Yan, what are you doing?!" Yin Zhou knew something wasn't right when he saw Lin Yan's lips turn blue. "If you can't do it now, someone's going to get hurt. Lin Yan, use the ghost that's following you!"

"Almost there. Don't let go!" The little Daoist was flushed a sickly pale colour and he rapidly chanted the mantra. The spirit summoning flag above his head was being whipped by the wind. There was a ripping sound and the whole piece of cloth was torn in half and fluttered down onto the old grave in the distance.

"I-It's okay. . . A-Yan, go faster. . ." Lin Yan was so cold that he could barely get his tongue to work. He tried to move the hand with the dagger to it but he found that his skin was stuck to the metal and he couldn't budge it. He was shivering from his arms all the way down to his legs. Lin Yan staggered back and stepped on the bag they'd brought, almost falling backwards.

A force of strength supported his back. Xiao Yu's voice sounded right when he needed him, but his low voice didn't let him retort: "Let go."

Xiao Yu's hand covered the back of Lin Yan's hand. Compared to the temperature of the dagger, his palm was actually warm. It was just right to block the cold air that kept pouring into Lin Yan's arm. A-Yan's expression changed in an instant and he shouted loudly: "Back off, beast!"

"I'll fucking finish this. . ." Lin Yan abruptly closed his eyes and pressed his palm to the blade. All at once, the bone-chilling cold air felt like ten thousand needles running through his palm up to his arm. At the same time, there was a cold that grew behind him. He quickly opened his eyes but Second Immortal Gu hadn't appeared. On the contrary, Xiao Yu snapped Lin Yan's wrist with completely overwhelming strength, forcing the sharp weapon out of his hand.

The moment the dagger was taken out of Lin Yan's hand, he felt like he was immediately torn out of an ice block and thrown into a fire. The ritual was broken, the hot sunlight licked his back, making his whole body numbly feel like it was going to dissolve. However, he couldn't care less about his body's reaction. What happened next made Lin Yan and Yin Zhou - who was freaking out off to the side - shocked. They saw Xiao Yu holding the dagger inching towards A-Yan, frigid eyes filled with killing intent. When the palm of his hand touched the hilt of the knife, it sounded like searing flesh. But he didn't care. He grabbed A-Yan's collar with one hand, and violently plunged the dagger toward his left eye with the other!

Lin Yan's mind kicked into action. He subconsciously rushed over to hold Xiao Yu's waist, using all his strength to drag him back. However, something was wrong with the little Daoist priest, too. His usual cowardice was gone and his eyes burned with rage. He rolled away and broke free, rapidly taking out a handful of cinnabar and tossing it towards Xiao Yu. His voice changed because of the trembling: "An evil beast is an evil beast. You can't stay!"

"What the fuck is going on!" Yin Zhou couldn't see Xiao Yu. He could only see the little Daoist tumbling on the ground alone trying to avoid a shimmering dagger. Lin Yan's nerves were fried. While dragging Xiao Yu back, he roared towards Yin Zhou: "How the hell should I know? You grab A-Yan!"

He had never seen Xiao Yu so angry. The midday sun was burning and blinding. The ghost's whole body was emitting a faint greenish-black aura. The knuckles of both hands snapped open, sharp claw-like nails grabbing the back of the Daoist priest's head. Lin Yan thought he was seeing things and closed his eyes, but the scene stayed the same. The place where the ghost stood glowed a greenish-black and the place where the human stood was a dancing orange fire, intertwining with each other, but the orangish-yellow flames were gradually dying out. . .

Later, he would learn that people have yang energy and ghosts have yin energy. When the energy was extremely concentrated, he could directly perceive the yin and yang without his eyes confusing it in his mind. This was the foundation of excellent Taoism. He had inadvertently opened a long-closed door to the mystical arts.

However, the current situation was extremely dangerous. Xiao Yu held A-Yan’s neck with one hand and the dagger cut inch by inch into the little Daoist priest's arm blocking it. The hand holding the knife was searing black from the contact with the blade of the evil spirit's. A Yan's face grew purple, his eyes bulging. Lin Yan didn't dare to hesitate for a moment and scrambled over to protect A-Yan from behind. There was a clanging sound and the dagger rolled to the ground.

The little Daoist broke free from the evil spirit's hands, clutching his bleeding wound and groaning intermittently: "Lin Yan. . . Immortal Gu. . . Immortal Gu's spirit is trapped. . . I couldn't get her. . ."

Lin Yan supported the little Daoist's shoulders. His eyes gleamed, and the soft deer-like eyes were different from those when he had when he cast the spell. "The curse. . . Be careful." A-Yan whispered. Lin Yan hadn't gotten the chance to ask what was going on before his thin body couldn't support his own weight. His eyes rolled back and he fainted.

Lin Yan and Yin Zhou looked at each other, shocked by the outcome, unable to utter a word.

[selenthediscountvamp]

Wip Intro - Vampire Project (working title)

Genre: (Asexual) Romance, Horror, Magical Realism/Fabulism, Vampires

Audience: adult

Pov: third person limited

Warnings: animal deaths, graphic violence, body horror

Summary:

Following an eviction as a teen, Christopher realized happiness equaled wealth. At 26, he's destitute and ostracised from high society for smarming his way into people's pockets. He entered hunting competitions to regain the nobles' favor, only to lose an eye on top of his dignity — and wake up dead. His skin mummified and getting worse the longer he remained without blood, itching to be shed and evolve. He was terrified of what that transformation may result in and desperate to understand this strange condition no one else seemed to see. When all else failed, doctors and priests refused to help; he sought out a mysterious Lord his age. Taking on a construction job for his manor, Christopher worked towards the Lord's trust in hopes of a cure, certain the Lord harbored all the answers to his sickness. 

After all, the Lord was well versed in miracle resurrections — as a child he had survived his own death and evolved. 

Characters:

Christopher: A 26-year-old builder contracted to repair the Lord's manor. Even before his sudden bout of vampirism, he was used to sucking the money out of people with too much wealth for their own good. Obsessed with fixing things and returning his family to their old glory, he's in over his head trying to fix himself.

Lord (to be named): If the phrase 'circle of life' were someone's motto, it would be his. At 23 he's in love with nature; having died at ten, he became convinced his life was as much worth as a rabbit's or a flower's. Ready to bury himself in the earth if he could. Vilified by his brother for his 'eccentricities', and by the villagers for his resurrection they claimed 'demonic' - it was only a matter of time he'd develop a fear of leaving his own property. Screw the haters by hiding from them, amiright. Resigned to whatever happened in his own life, he guides Christopher through his vampirism for something to hang onto.

The idea for this book originally developed about 2 years ago. After having read a lot of vampire fiction and doing a quick mind experiment of 'what if. I thought a lot about the common tropes popularised by Stroker that echo in the history of fiction to this day, and especially the concept of 'x person goes to meet a shifty aristocrat at a manor' and how you could twist it around in a neat way. So I figured, hey, what if x person is already a vampire when they arrive! Which, is not the most original of things, I'm aware. But this story is my soup of tropy self-indulgent goodness, so it's fine. I'm allowed; I have a permit I swear. Anyway, after two years of doing nothing with that setup, and then half a year of intense brainstorming, changing the main character's voice several times, and writing 5 drafts that all together constituted 40k only to decide to scrap it all at a last ditch effort at the story —  what I was left with barely resembled the original concept. I diverged pretty heavily from the 'classic' popularised concept of vampirism,  but well, sacrifices had to be made to make it interesting to write. At this point, I've come way further into the plot than the last 5 times before I changed things around, but technically(very technically), it's still a first draft. So it's gonna take quite a while to the finished product, *finger guns*. But after realising it was my writing process that was the issue, not the premise, I'm 100% certain this is the right path for this book. Anyway, that's all, keep blood-sucking, I'll be seeing you. 🦇🦇

Taglist: @writerwaage ​

Reply to be added to the taglist :)

[lost-technology]

I started working hard and going full-bore on the Trigun Body Horror Week prompts. @organsoutsidelovinglydescribed Perhaps I am late as others have already begun working on them. I have a couple of prompts left to go. It's been fun. I love writing nasty, scary, grisly stuff! Although I think my prompts for this one are turning out to be more sad than utterly horrific. It's not WIP Wednesday, but I'll share a couple of out of context lines from one of my stories. I won't tell you which prompt it is for: ___________________ So far, I have been successful in 78.8 percent of the tests on rabbits.  You are among the first hominid subjects.  Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, STOP!!! Nicholas did not know what a “rabbit” was.  If this is what he did to rabbits, Priest William must have hated them. ___________________

[helluvascribe]

Martha’s Revenge

 Previously on “Murder Family”

 Mrs. Mayberry sat at her desk, looking stunned, her face turning red. The other woman was so young and beautiful. There was her husband, clad naked and showing off his muscles and parts to her.

 With a blank shadowed look on her face, the teacher suddenly stood up and walked away. If she wasn’t going to be able to divorce that cheating bastard…

 “Wait! Mrs. Mayberry!” called the brown haired girl. She took hold of the teacher’s hand. “Remember what you taught us…think before you act.”

 Dark thoughts suddenly festered within the woman and she gripped the girl’s neck before tossing her up in the air through the roof. She stomped out of the room and shut the door. The children ran to the window to watch as she got in her old green car and plowed through a white picket fence. “I love school” was on her license plate. The children rushed to the computer.

 The door to the bedroom was quickly pulled open.

 “Oh shit, sweetie!” said her husband, caught in the act of fucking the young lady on their master bed. “What are you doing here?”

 “Shut up, Jarold!” A newfound rage flared in her eyes. A deadly looking riffle was in her hands. She fired several shots.

 The blonde lady shrieked as Mrs. Mayberry moved closer.

 “You scream like a fish!” the teacher mentioned to the blonde haired lady.

 With a demonic yell, she brutally shot the younger woman across multiple areas of her body. Thick blood splattered everywhere.

 Her husband gasped. “Oh god, what have you done?! She had a family!”

 “We could’ve had a family!” the blonde teacher sobbed, in a flood of despair and rage. She picked up a bullet and shot her husband square in the head. He collapsed to the floor, dead.

 “Oh god, what have I done?” she asked, frazzled, whipping away the blood from the screen. She saw her children stare in horror and disgust. “In front you all.” She broke down into tears, seeing her dead husband in a pool of blood.  She spoke her last words through sobs. “I’m so sorry my children. Don’t forget to work on your timestamps.”

 Mrs. Mayberry knew there was nothing left for her but jail time and grief. There was only one other option. With shaking hands, she shot herself in the chest with a yelp. The children fainted on the floor one by one at the traumatizing sight. The policeman took the wailing blonde lady to the hospital…and found Mrs. Mayberry’s body lying next to her husband’s on the blood-stained floor.

  The blonde lady Martha stared lovingly with a brown uncovered eye at her new muscular husband Ralphie wearing an orange plaid shirt. He had brown hair and an athlete/superhero build. Their two children stood by her bedside as she recovered. The room had bouquets of colorful flowers in every corner. Camera flashed as news reporters talked to her.

 “How does it feel to have survived such a crazy bitch?” a newswoman asked.

 “I just hope that sick woman finally found peace,” Martha drawled in her hospital bed.

 Her husband comforted her, head lowered.

 “You are so brave,” the reporter commended to Martha. “Here’s $2 million dollars!”

 The woman’s face lit up as she was handed a large golden check. “Oh thank you!” She smiled at the cameras with her husband like she was a movie star.

 The stereotypical America family lived in a house near the woods and by a lake. Martha dressed like a housewife with a long polka dot skirt. Her daughter had brown pigtails, a lavender shirt with a tie, and a red skirt, with boots. The younger boy had a beaver-skin cap, a white shirt, brown pants and camouflage boots. On the outside, they were the perfect typical family.

 “You’re a hero,” said more news people as she stood elegantly at a VNN (Vivienne News Network) podium.

 “You’re a hero, girl,” admired a brown skinned jogger with short blonde passing Martha by. Martha basked in the attention and wealth. Who knew that getting shot at would change her life for the better.

 “My mama’s a hero!” declared the son.

 “She is a hero!” The brown haired casher agreed down to him as the family went grocery shopping.

 “Ooooh…You’re a hero!” moaned her husband as he thrust his penis wildly in and out of her as they made love in their bedroom. Their walls were covered with pelvises and newspaper clippings of Martha under “local hero” headings.

 “You’re a hero,” smiled an old praying priest who stood by her at one church meeting.

 Even worse for Mayberry, a new class of children cheered, “You’re a hero!” to Martha when she taught a “How to deal with trauma 101 class.”

 “Oh you’re a hero!” another man groaned as he wildly gave her anal.

  “That’s gotta be her,” Blitzo whispered. He then chuckled darkly. “This is too easy.” He looked over at Moxxie. “Moxxie, do you want this one?”

 Moxxie looked stunned and smiled nervously. “Me?”

 “Yeah, this one’s simple enough for you to handle. It’s just a happy mother who just got out of the hospital.”

 Moxxie stood up and looked through the window. His face fell as he looked at the happy family enjoying dinner. A pig’s head was at the center of the table. The house was decorated with axes and guns on the walls. A lamp stand seemed to be made out of a spinal column. Ralphie and Martha affectionately rubbed each other’s noses, Martha holding a dinner platter in her hand.

 “You snooze you lose, Mox!” Blitzo called out.

 He got out his gun, which was black with flames painted on it. The reflector was an upside down cross and it hovered over Martha’s face. She smiled with large doe eyes and blinked innocently.

 “And I’ve got you, bitch,” Blitzo murmured.

 “Wait, are we actually killing a family?!” Moxxie asked in disbelief.

 “No, don’t be a puss, we’re just killing a mother,” Blitzo remarked. “We’re running a family.” He grinned and clicked his rifle, positioning it.

 “But…” Moxxie began. “Hold on, hold on, let’s just think about it…”

 Moxxie lifted up the rifle just before Blitzo fired. The bullet hit a glass mirror in the house, causing the family members to gasp in fear.

 “What was that, Ralphie?” Martha asked her husband, who sat at the table.

 Ralphie shook his head. “I don’t know Martha, but whatever it is…”

 He stood up with a sharp-toothed grin, holding a rifle in his hands.

 “They’re gonna be tomorrow night’s dinner!”

 Martha set the platter down on the table, downed a glass of wine and smashed the glass on the floor.

 “Alright, kids! Guns out!” She called with an evil grin. The kids, too, grinned evilly as they pulled out smaller guns. The boy pulled out his from his brown beaver-skin hat.

 “Looks like we’ve got some rabbits to catch, youngins!” Ralphie said with an evil chuckle.

 A bullet fired through the wall and shot Blitzo in the arm. He cried out as black blood splattered.

 “A new hole!” Blitzo cried in terror. “Scatter!”

 Blitzo and Millie leapt into the air just as another gunshot created a larger hole in the wall. A grinning Martha and Ralphie leapt through the hole and chased after them, guns drawn. Moxxie peered out from behind the bush, rapidly looking around. A child’s hand grabbed Moxxie’s pointed tail and he yelped. He only saw a barrage of fists from the children before passing out.

 Millie flipped backwards along a cobblestone trail before diving into the lake.

 “There you go, little critter!” Ralphie called, firing another bullet. He stepped onto the wooden dock. “Y’all can’t hide long from me!”

 Millie had her head above the water under the dock, a knife in her mouth. She broke through the dock with a crash before landing with a grin, knife at the ready. Ralphie swing a beer bottle at her, but she moved behind him out of the way. Millie jumped up in the air, knife in both hands. Ralphie swung the bottle upwards, hitting her in the head. The glass shattered and she fell to the ground with a loud yelp. Millie struggled weakly to stand, but collapsed onto the dock, eye twitching. Ralphie grinned down at her as the sky spiraled red. He picked her up and headed deep into the woods.

 Moxxie opened his eyes and gasped with a squeak to find his hands and body tied with rope. He appeared to be tied to a stitched up headless dead body sitting on a chair. Moxxie’s face fell in fear as he stared at the boy and girl in front of him. Both their eyes were red and devious grins formed on their faces.

 Moxxie tried to defuse the fear. “Oh. Hello there little ones. Aren’t you cute?”

 The children spoke in low distorted voices:

 “It’s nice to have a new critter to play with.”

 Moxxie glanced up in terror at a red spotlight above him. The light revealed a human head high up and several limbs on plaques. The wooden walls were stained with red blood. Tow plaques held stitched up faces of skin. A larger plaque displayed a dead man with long white hair, arms crossed, eyes and teeth bulging out. His upper chest was connected to the plaque. A picture frame made of bones displayed another face made of skin inside it. Human skin was tacked to the wall with “bless this mess” stitched onto it. Moxxie looked and saw a dead human body on a platter, an apple in its mouth. Organs were displayed in a nearby bowl.

 Moxxie took one look at the dead body and whimpered. “Aw. Crumbs.”

 Meanwhile, Blitzo was running for his life in the woods. Four gunshots rang out as Blitzo darted through a bush, leaves falling to the ground. Martha’s evil echoing laughter quickened his pace. The imp slide down a grass hill, landing on his feet. He crouched under the bushes, looking around. He panted, catching his breath.

 “I know you’re hurtin’, little devil,” drawled Martha in a sing-song voice.

 Blitzo darted behind a tree, taking in deep silent breaths. His back was pressed against the bark. He covered his mouth, not daring to move.

 “I promise that I can make that pain go real quick.”

 Martha walked through the woods, not too far away, in shadow. “Just come let Mama Martha put a bullet in that pretty little skull!”

 Blitzo sighed in relief after hearing the footsteps fade.

   Out of nowhere, Blitzo found himself being pinned against the tree by the bottom handle of Martha’s gun.

 “Got ya!” she grinned. Bltzo’s phone was on the ground, Stolas still talking.

 “So, you’re a little devil, huh?” she asked, a wide grin. “Come to drag me and my kin to Hell? Well not today, Satan!”

 She pressed the gun further into Blitzo. “Gonna send y’all back where ya came from!”

 She hit Blitzo hard and he slumped to the ground. She took him and headed off into the woods.

 Back at the house, Moxxie struggled to free his tied up hands and body. In the reflection of the window, he could see the orange yellow lights of fires. He gasped.

 “Millie!”

 The two kids stared deviously at him. He froze when the girl revealed a long sharp knife in her hands. Moxxie glared, determined. As the girl raised the knife, Moxxie shoved her backwards with the chair. There was a thud as the chair toppled over onto the floor. Moxxie grabbed the knife and cut the rope loose, freeing himself. A “Live, Laugh, Love” sign and a hangman’s noose hung from the wall. Moxxie burst through the round window, a shadow silhouette with glowing yellow eyes. Wasting no time, he raced into the woods and toward rows of torches. Hanging from the trees were red Satanic symbols. There were also tents around the area.

 A full moon appeared in the sky from behind thin clouds. Down below, Blitzo and Millie were tied to a stake decorated with black spikes at the top. Ralphie laughed as he poured gasoline onto the ground by their feet. Martha stood nearby, holding a torch in her left hand. Her blouse was torn and low cut, with polka dots on them. Her eyes were red and she wore skull earrings.

 Blitzo groaned in frustration. “I had that fucking shot. God dammit, Moxxie.”

 “Satan!” Martha declared. “We return your filthy creatures back to the pits of Hell!” She raised her torch. “May the root of evil remain honored as we continue thy work!”

 Martha tossed the torch underneath Blitzo and Moxxie, who still struggled to free themselves. Ralphie laughed again. The stake soon lit up in flames…

 …leaving the imps unscathed.

 “Yeah, that’s not exactly how it works, lady,” Blitzo explained. “Sorry, your fire doesn’t really hurt us, but I mean I could fake it if that’ll get your dick hard.” He smirked and Millie giggled.

 “Oh. Shit.” Martha stared confused and rolled her eyes. “I don’t have one.”

 Then she got a better idea and grinned. “Well, I’ll just shoot you in your smart-ass mouth!” She held her rifle in her hands.

 “That would be more effective,” Blitzo mentioned.

 “Blitzo!” Millie spat.

 Martha laughed again as she raised the rifle, two barrels pointing at the imps. The imps closed their eyes and flinched.

 A loud bang and a yelp was heard. Martha’s eyeball flew from her socket and she collapsed to the ground.

 “Moxxie!” Millie cried, seeing Moxxie hold a gun in his hands. Moxxie raced over and untied Millie and Blitzo.

  Back inside the house, the boy and girl were in their father’s arms in a corner.

 “Don’t move!” Moxxie demanded, pointing his rifle at them. The boy and girl looked scared and innocent. The girl even had a dark gray stitched up teddy bear with her.

 Ralphie chucked. “What are you gonna do, little guy? Kill us?”

 “I should!” Moxxie replied, stepping back. “You people are monsters!” Then he lowered the rifle. “But… you should have a chance at a life and a purpose. Look at your children. They have their whole future ahead of them! You are going to face your crimes, justly.”

 He picked up a remote from a stand. “I am calling your earthly authorities and they will make sure you are dealt with, fairly. I am handing this, my way.”

 He pressed a button and a television turned on in the adjacent room. A black and white program played. Moxxie gasped in surprise, then looked down at it.

 “Oh shit,” he muttered. The black remote had pink and white buttons reminiscent of a smiling goofy face.

 “Uh do you…do you have a phone to summon 911?”

 “Yeah, it’s in the kitchen,” Ralphie mentioned behind him.

 Moxxie held the remote. “Then what’s this for?”

 “It’s a universal remote,” Ralphie replied. “Got it for the kids.” The kids smiled and he pulled them in a hug.

 “Aww,” Moxxie smiled, eyes shining.

 He called the police and hurried back to the portal in the dark woods.

  Moxxie heard the whirl of blades and flashes of light. He turned around. There were police cars and a helicopter in front of the house.

 A voice over a loudspeaker said, “We got em’ boys!”

 A missile fired at the roof and the entire house exploded in a fiery inferno. Something hit Moxxie in the face. He stared at the ground and found the head of the teddy bear that had flown off. He stared with a shocked look of disbelief on his face. The family that had a chance to be better was now dead.

 Blitzo grabbed Moxxie hard by the neck and pulled him through the portal.

 ***

 Hell, Pentagram City

Mrs. Mayberry

October 31st 2020, morning of Murder Family

 Mrs. Mayberry woke up staring at a crimson red sky. Her form had completely changed… Mrs. Mayberry was now a purple demon with stripped curved horns on her head, wearing rectangular glasses. She wore a pale red shirt with x stitches on it, along with an eye where her pendant was on her chest. Her hair was long and white and pulled back with a black bandana. She wore a dark skirt with an upside down cross on it and heels. She also had sharp yellow teeth.

 After finding a place to live and shying out of sight from shady strangers, Mrs. Mayberry had the chance to continue her career where she left off. So she did. It took some learning and adaptation to Hell’s culture but fortunately...it was pretty simple.

 Mrs. Mayberry was soon hired at “Pentagram Penitentiary Place,” one of the top public schools in the district. It was a large school for grades K-12. The name of the school was in black letters surrounded by a red downward facing pentagram over the black front doors. “All grades in one place!” read the slogan. The building was of red-orange brick with three rows of low cracked windows facing the front. The outdoor playground consisted of rusted basketball hoops, a jungle gym, dark asphalt and a swing set that made squeaky sounds every time it was used. The slide was high up and made of metal, so that it was always painfully hot for the young demon children to slide down. A barbed wire fence with swirls of wire at the top surrounded the prison-like school.

 A bunch of middle schoolers were bouncing a demon skull around and tossing it into the basketball hoops. Little preschooler demons rough-housed on the grass-less ground, laughing. One small green dragon kept making burping sounds, emitting orange sparks much to the delight of his peers.  A dinosaur used his tail for a black eyed doll girl to use as a jump rope. There was even a little scary-go round that furry bird-like kids went on to test their flying and spin out of control in the air. One white bird crashed against the fence and slid down with a flop.

 “Loser!” taunted a bulky blue cyclops kid wearing a baseball cap. He spat on the bird’s upside-down head and laughed with his goons. An older demon with a rhino’s horn was spray-painting teal blue penises on the walls.

 “Watch your back!” he called out to a centaur who fired an arrow from a bow, startled. The green lizard demon tied to the target glanced down at the arrow that had almost gotten him in the crotch. He sighed with relief, only to have an ax lodged into his head, thrown by an orange goat teenager.

 Nearby were two purple demons with silvery snake hair sitting on a concrete window ledge, wearing blouses, sequined navy skirts and shoes. They were listening to music from their Eye-Pods. One of them was painting her nails and the other took a drag from an e-cigarette. Every kid had a multiple digit number temporarily tattooed on their necks. An E, an M and an H were before the numbers, for elementary, middle and high school. The following number indicated their grade and the last two numbers were their position in alphabetical order. K or a P next to the E stood for kindergarten and preschool.

 A loud buzzer rang at the top of the roof, signaling class starting. The children were lined up in front of their respective teachers. Mrs. Mayberry stood in front of her line of preschool demons.

 After singing a song about a demonic turtle drowning in a bathtub with the class, she counted each child as they made their way to homeroom. They all filled in and sat at their wooden desks. The demonic alphabet was listed on a nearby poster with translations into English and other languages.

 “Good morning!” Mrs. Mayberry trilled in the windowless classroom, scrapping her chalk against the blackboard before catching it with a twirl. “I hope you all did your homework.”

 The kids fearfully nodded.

 “Hmm, I don’t think you did, EP-04,” she scolded a demon boy wearing an orange shirt with no paper in front of him. “Go sit in time-out.”

 The boy groaned and sat on a stool facing the wall. The white dunce cap burned on his head.

 “The pledge of allegiance,” Mrs. Mayberry led. The class stood up with their hands on their hearts.

 “I pledge allegiance and my soul to the banner

Of His Majesty Lucifer and Her Majesty Lilith

And to the unholy Inferno

For Pentagram City

One nation under Satan

Indivisible

With liberty and chaos for all!”

 They sat back down.

 “Now let’s sing,” Mrs. Mayberry ordered.

 The demonic class broke out into song:

 “We love to do our homework and learn stuff every day.”

 “And when I throw in these hard questions, you should know just what to say,” Mrs. Mayberry sang.

 “Okay!” they cheered.

 She wrote an equation on the board. “Divide this number by…”

 “Zero!”

 “Our favorite paint is…”

 “Bloody red!”

 “And when there’s a stranger danger…”

 “You stab them in the head!” they answered, making stabbing motions with their arms.

 “A poison for a deep sleep?” she asked.

 “Wormwood! Does no good!”

 “The geological components of Hell?”

 “Fire and brimstone!” added a girl.

 “If you can’t use love…”

 “Use hate!”

 “Now it’s time for us to say the day and date.”

 “Your death day was on January 8th, right?” piped up a boy in the back.

 Mrs. Mayberry stopped short. “Hush up! We don’t mention that date.” She turned to the class. “Go on.”

 “It’s 3 in the afternoon…” said a boy.

 “On October 31st,” said a green girl.

 “Hell’s heat is still hot,” said another girl, sweating.

 “Let’s watch the episode first!” reminded the dunce boy.

 The demons went “la la la” as Mrs. Mayberry stared at the board, red eyes wide.

 “Oh my suns! Stop singing children. Shut up!”

 The demons fell silent.

 “I forgot it’s the new episode! I’m supposed to be off to pursue my revenge!”

 “Maybe you could scare your enemies at a death-day party!” a girl suggested with her hands up in the air.

 Mrs. Mayberry looked at her hell-phone and saw the last seconds of an I.M.P. commercial. She stood up to walk away.

 “Wait! Mrs. Mayberry,” said a girl, taking hold of her hand. “Remember what you taught us. Act before you think.”

 Mrs. Mayberry pat her head. “I think not. Work on your timestamps and assignments, children. I’m off to pursue a little education of my own.”

 A horn-covered sub man walked in and bellowed, “200 pushups on the double! Or it’s back to your cells!”

 The demons got up from their seats and bent down to do the pushups.

 Mrs. Mayberry called a taxi outside and it drove her off.

 Up on a screen outside her window, Mrs. Mayberry saw a full commercial where she learned of an assassination company called I.M.P.

 “Hi there, I’m Blitzo, the “o” is silent and I’m the funder of I.M.P.! Are you a piece of shit that got sent to Hell? Or are you an innocent soul who just so happened to get fucked over by someone else?”

 The next shot showed a bulky red demon with horns, wearing a white Ohio shirt/jersey. A sign read, “Some guy who hired us!” The demon spoke:

 “After lovingly killing my wife for fucking a delivery man, you could imagine my surprise when I wound down here, after the State of Ohio killed me.” He rammed his meaty fists. “I really wish I could stick it to that yappy jogger who saw me hiding the body!”

 “Guess I’m not the only one who murdered my spouse,” she thought. “I’ve also never seen a guy with…such muscles before…”

 Blitzo appeared again. “Well luckily for you, thanks to our company’s special access to the living world…we promise to take care of your unfinished business by taking out anyone who may have screwed you over when you were alive!”

 The sounds of the imp jingle motivated Mrs. Mayberry as the taxi pulled to a stop in front of the I.M.P. building. She got out, climbed up the stairs and knocked on the office door. It opened and out popped Blitzo.

 “Is this I.M.P.?” she asked.

 “Yes,” Blitzo said.

 “I figured, since I saw the commercial. I have one bad bitch that needs to be killed. And I’ve got a lot to say.”

 “Well, come on in then,” he said.

 Mrs. Mayberry paced Blitzo’s office at I.M.P. headquarters as she told her story.

  “I was a good person before it all went down,” she narrated, pacing to and fro. “I was good my entire life.”

 She continued on, adding details about her personal life. She held a cigarette in her hand. Apparently, it was easy to get into unhealthy habits in Hell.

 “You do everything right in life, play by the rules, and still get sent down here with all the Hitlers and Epsteins of the world. After one measly massacre propelled by blind rage. So that’s why I’m here. To get my revenge.”

 “I mean was she hotter?” Blitzo remarked with a smirk.

 The demon’s eyes flared red in anger, her face partially in shadow by the drawn blinds. A lemon tree was in the background with a sign that read “no whores” beside it. Blitzo casually lounged in his office chair.

 “I’m just saying I had a hard time understanding the unprompted melodrama you just spat at me, tits,” Blitzo chuckled.

 Mayberry growled and her body briefly glowed red. Her cigarette bent in her hand.

 Blitzo rolled his eyes. “Anyway I don’t think you quite understand how we’re operating down here.” He stood up and Mrs. Mayberry glared at him. “You see we take revenge on the living and it sounds like the core cast of your sitcom of a death frankly are all probably down here in Hell with you. Boop.”

 He bonked her on the nose.

 Mayberry’s pointed tail twitched, her purple claws clenched. Her skirt was torn with holes and her feet were cloven hooves. This imp guy was worse than the demonic children she taught.

 Mayberry extended her left claws. “Not all of them. That whore survived. Now they all call her a hero.”

 She continued. “Between the talk shows and bullshit donations she made so much goddamn cash. Getting shot was the best thing to happen to her.”

 Mayberry bashed her fists into the ground, creating cracks. “She’s not a hero!” Mayberry yelled, getting in close to Blitzo’s face.

 “Yeah, okay, yeah, my thoughts exactly,” Blitzo stuttered in a rapid nervous voice. He frantically pressed a red button under the desk multiple times. The red light flashed under the “Deranged Client” label on a dashboard. The other labels read, “More Coffee,” “Soiled My Pants,” “Horny Client,” “Client Giving Birth,” “Ghost,” and “Stolas.”

 Blitzo later burst through the door, followed by Mrs. Mayberry. “Guys, I’d like you to meet, our newest client!”

 The room suddenly burst into flames…Blitzo was furious. He quickly led Mrs. Mayberry outside where she hopped into a taxi to wait back home.

 “Bye and don’t worry,” called Blitzo to her, “We’ll get that skank in less than 24 hours or your first kill is free!”

 She could only hope that crazy imp and his team could do their job.

 As it turned out, Mrs. Mayberry later found out that not only had I.M.P. killed Martha, they also killed her crazy Satanic family. Mrs. Mayberry was very impressed. She held a piece of cake and laughed with the I.M.P. members for a special celebration. Millie talked about how it was okay to kill someone if they tried to kill you back.

 “That’s messed up,” mentioned Mrs. Mayberry. Then she smiled. “But I paid for it!”

 Everyone laughed again. Mrs. Mayberry felt good among her new allies. She had embraced her past at last.

 After the celebration, she got back into the taxi but instead of heading home, she headed further into town.

 There was a red Ohio demon for her to thank.

  Hell, Pentagram City

Martha

Sometime after Murder Family

  Blood red sky. Thin clouds the color of smoke. A giant spinning pentagram hovering in the sky above buildings. A figure slowly got up from the street, stretching their arms and legs, looking around. They slowly got up and looked at their reflection in a window.

 Martha’s eyes glowed fiery red as she stared at her new form. Magenta red colored skin and messy thick white hair extending down along her back. A curved piece of white hair covering her missing right eye, which was covered by a red X, like the X on Vaggie. Long slender fingers with sharp black nails. A row of sharp white teeth and pointed horns on her head. Her feet were now cloven hooves and she had a long pointed tail. Succubus bat wings extended from her back…she was now a succubus demon.

 In addition, she was wearing the same clothes she had worn when she died: torn dark pants, a belt with a skull on it and matching skull earrings. She wore her torn up white bra with little red hearts on it. She also wore red heels fitted onto her feet that somehow didn’t make her lose balance. Her bracelets around her arm were red, with small glowing pentagrams on it. She wore red lipstick.

 Not too far away, Martha saw bodies stirring from the sleep of death. There was a man slowing getting up with two kids.

 “Ralphie?” she asked, peering closer. Her feet made soft clopping sounds as her heels made contact with the cracked asphalt.

 Ralphie opened his large orange eyes. He had still retained his muscular build from when he was alive, even wearing similar jeans and a torn plaid shirt that was now red instead of orange. His skin was dark gray like a wolf’s and he, too, had a row of sharp teeth. He had beefy arms with fur on them, even having pointed wolf ears as well. Having wolf-like traits, he appeared very much like a hunter. A hunter for his mistress.

 Standing up, he rammed his thick fist into a nearby demon, sending the creature into a nearby brick wall. He snatched up the critter’s rifle and tested it in his hands.

 “Mama? Papa?” asked two little voices.

 Ralphie looked down and gasped. “Kids! You’re alright!”

 The formerly white boy was now a small beaver demon, still wearing his shirt, pants and beaver skin hat. His stripped beaver tail had small spikes on it. His sister was wearing her skirt and leggings but this time, she had light pink skin, her two orange pigtails now small living snakes on her head.

 “Chuck! Ebony!” Martha cried, embracing her little creature children.

 “I knew you’d always be my hero,” Chuck said, straightening his furry cap and backing up along with his sister. “You can live through anything!” His eyes glinted with mischief like a raccoon getting into trouble.

 Chuck then paused. “Wait, where are we? Are we…dead? I don’t feel dead.”

 “This must be an afterlife,” Ralphie said, scratching his hairy chin.

 Martha took in the bustling city filled with demons, the area bathed in a crimson light. The essences of trapped sinners who had died, peered at the group in the forms of eyes from the walls. Her grin spread across her face and she spread out her arms.

 “Not just any afterlife…this is Satan’s domain!”

 “Hail Satan,” the kids chimed together after a moment.

 “We’re in Hell?!” Ralphie exclaimed. “I…I can’t remember what happened. I was holding you two, I heard a loud thunderous boom…our whole house shook like a twister was ripping it apart. And then there was this flash of light, a searing heat and…”

 He seized up at the recent painful memory. The kids hugged their father again, Martha running her hand through his matted gray fur on his head. The girl sniffled a bit.

 He examined the wandering demons around him, with a raised eyebrow. “Can’t believe I’m still alive, I think. If this is Hell… I thought the creatures would look more red and horny.”

 He looked at his wife who titled her head. “Um…besides you. I mean, where are the pitchforks and fire?”

 Martha walked over to him, a small sway of her hips. “Ya think I’m horny, huh? I think I had some ideas about what I could do with my horns…someplace.” She gave him a wink and Ralphie smirked. The kids stuck out their tongues and made sounds of disgust.

 “Well, first of all, we need to find a place to stay,” Ralphie said. “I have a feelin’ this city ain’t too friendly around newcomers. He held his gun and clicked it a few times.

 “But where would we go?” Martha asked. “If our savior Satan were here, he could help us. And we obviously cannot go back to our original home.”

 “Let’s take shelter in the woods,” Ralphie said. “We’ll find some game to hunt and continue our previous routine.”

 “Let’s get going,” Martha said. She led the way, followed by her husband, who held his children’s hands. The boy’s beaver tail trailed along behind him.

 “Look,” called a voice coming from a slender red goat woman with her friends. “Is that Martha?”

 Martha spun around. “How’d you know my name?”

 “Everyone knows who you are,” she said, a shine in her eyes. “You’re our hero!”

 Martha put on her most charming smile. “You bet I am! Still a survivor even after that sick woman tried to kill me.”

 “I remember you donating to the church back on Earth,” said the goat. “I wanted to meet you in person but instead I met Covid 19 beforehand. But now…here I am, in front of my idol!”

 She let out a squee like a fangirl and eagerly shook Martha’s claw.

 “It’s very nice to meet you,” said Martha.

 “You’re new here, right? Hell can be pretty dangerous. I’ll give you some money and a place to live, how about that?”

 “Oh thank you!” Martha beamed innocently, pleased to have allies even in Hell.

  A few weeks later, the four family members were settled in a house very similar to their previous one, next to the woods by a lake of lava. Ralphie hunted demonic animals for their dinners and gave miniature guns to the kids. It was surprisingly simple to get weapons in Hell (sadly, angelic weapons were too expensive, even for them.)

 Martha’s fame on Earth made her recognizable in Hell, by friend and foe alike. She and her family made it known that they were not to be messed with. Just one aim from their guns was enough to get other demons to back off. Martha was back in business, sometimes hosting a cooking show with Jeffery the serial killer. She became a fan favorite and a Satanic cult leader. Now instead of just her family supporting cannibalism and dark rituals, Martha had other allies on her side as well. The more allies she made, the more money came in. The family bought new clothes made from the skins of animals, demons and on rare cases, humans.

 The two children relaxed on the couch, staring at an old TV, complete with knobs on the right side. A universal remote was between them, the buttons resembling a face. They were currently watching a show in black and white: “Buck Dynasty!” popped up in slanted white letters as old-time preppy music played. The scene cut to a moving forest where a lone stag was walking through the snow.

 “There’s the fine specimen, a white-tailed deer calmly grazing over there,” a man’s voice whispered from a distance. He listed off some hunting tips such as using the wind and distance to eliminate scent. “The best way to stalk is by moving slowly and reducing unnecessary body motions.”

 “The easiest times to hunt deer are the rut, or breeding time, which usually occurs during late summer or early fall.”  

 A diagram of a deer’s anatomy popped up on screen, showing the ideal places to shoot them. An arrow pointed to a spot behind the deer’s shoulder, one-fourth up from the belly.

 The scope hovered near the shoulder area as the scene grew quiet. The man took a deep breath with focus, using the pad of his index finger to pull the trigger…

 The stag stumbled and dropped to the white ground shortly after the loud blast was heard. The kids watched in amusement.

 The man posed behind the fallen animal, grabbing the antlers and displaying a bright white smile. He had dark skin, short hair, glasses and wore a simple white vest with a bow tie. His pants and boots were dark.

 “Deery me, that was a good one! I seem to remember Bambi’s mother suffering a similar fate many winters ago. Not a fawn experience for him, I’m sure.”

 Audience laughter followed and the boy chuckled.

 “Those jokes are so lame,” Ebony rolled her eyes.

 The next clips showed the man hauling the carcass into a truck and field dressing it to preserve the meat.

 “Get it to a processor soon, or if you’re skilled enough in skinning, get started sooner rather than later,” he said, a cigar briefly in his mouth. “I know I’ve made my share of mistakes when hunting, but practice makes polished. No, not perfect because let’s face it, no one’s perfect in this world. Once you’ve got that nice fresh venison, you can use it in many different dishes. I personally love adding it to jambalaya for Mardi Gras. Nothing like a tasty classic to excite your taste buds!”

 “How does this show even exist?” the girl asked her father when he came in.

 Ralphie just shrugged his shoulders. “Just one of those random classics that I enjoy from time to time.”

 A colored commercial came on, advertising Vox’s Voot Floop cereal. A teal blue box showed blue circles of sugared cereal bits falling into a bowl as electronic music played in the background. Vox’s robotic voice came on: “The sugary sensation of the modern nation! Only $666! Box also comes with a free mini Vox figure inside. Collect all three V figures, today!”

 “Mom, can we get that cereal too?” the boy asked. “I want that Vox figure.”

 “Too damn expensive,” Martha called out.

 “I can get it for ya Chuck,” Ralphie said.

 “Thanks dad,” said Chuck.  

 The next ad showed a strip club and Valentino posing with two of his female clients, Dia and Summer. Angel Dust was pole dancing in the background; behind him was a glowing pink spider web with a heart in the center. Groovy electronic music played as the women’s hands stroked the pimp’s purplish skin. A box of cigarettes was shown on screen, surrounded by smoky pink hearts. “Feel the love and rush, with Valentin Vapors.” Valentino’s eyes twinkled under his pink heart sunglasses.

 Another commercial came on, this one displaying a revolving dollhouse with a land made of candy in the background. Stitched up dolls in velvet fabric were shown being played with by smiling demon girls. A music-box tune played as one of the dolls held a lollipop in one hand and a little plastic knife in the other. The plastic heads of the dolls moved from side to side at the push of a button. The toy dolls sat at a table with a set of teacups in front of them and a multicolored toy castle nearby. “Velvet’s Tea Party!” was displayed in glittery pink letters on the screen. “Free shipping on your order when you like and subscribe to Lady Velvet’s profiles!”  

 “Oooh!” Ebony smiled in delight, pointing at the screen. “I want one of those Velvet dolls for Christmas!”

 Martha smiled. “Maybe Krampus can get one for you…that is, if you behave.”

 “I don’t want him to punish us,” Chuck said with a worried look.

 “Ah, you’ll all be fine,” said their father. “Christmas is only a month or so away!”

 For the next few minutes, the siblings fought over who would control the remote.

 “I wanna watch Buck Dynasty!” Chuck said.

 “No, it’s mine!” cried Ebony. “Fizztastic Circus is on and Robo Fizz is gonna do his grand act in Loo-Loo Land!”

 “Mine!”

 “It’s mine! Let go!”

 Martha stepped in and turned off the television, the white circle shrinking into black.

 “It’s time to go to bed, kids,” she said.

 “Awww,” they groaned.

 “None of that. You guys have school tomorrow.”

  The next day, Ralphie took the children to school: Pentagram Penitentiary Place. Chuck and Ebony got their school supplies, got in the car and Ralphie took them to the brick building.

 “Have a good day,” Ralphie smiled. “And make sure you behave yourselves.”

 “Yes papa!” they called out, waving goodbye as the car drove off.

 They headed into the classroom and took their seats across from each other. A purple colored demon with white hair and glasses stood at the front.

 “Good morning!”

 “Good morning Ms. Mayberry!” the students chimed.

 After doing some addition, writing and reading, the demon children spread out in the room.

 Ms. Mayberry led a song and dance. The children curled up on the floor, pretending to be asleep.

 “Lots of little demons were sleeping on a rock

In the fiery pits of Hell”

 The children slowly stood up.

 “They lifted up their heads

And shook out their tails…”

 The children shook their heads, butts and tails.

 “And they said, ‘let’s go killing.’”

 The music sped up as she sang, “Let’s go killing, let’s go killing.” The demon kids screamed and danced and got into wild fights with their classmates. Ebony choked another demon girl and laughed in childish delight.

 “Yeah let’s go killing, in the flames of Hell.”

 The music slowed down.

 “Then the little demons got very, very tired

“That they came back to the rock

They put down their heads

And they put down their tails

And then took a little nap.”

 The children pretended to yawn and slowly went back onto the floor. They curled up into balls and pretended to sleep.

 The music paused, then started up louder again at the next verse.

 “And when they woke up

They were a little bit bored

So they took a shower.”

 The children pretended to wash different parts of their bodies.

 “And they washed their ears

And they washed their tummies.

And they brushed their teeth

And they washed their spines and tails

And they washed their toes.

And then they said, (the children stopped and spread out their hands and repeated what was next.)

‘Wait a minute! We’re demons! We don’t take showers!’”

 The music sped up again as Ms. Mayberry sang, “Let’s go killing, let’s go killing, yeah, let’s go killing.” The children ran around the room, bashing other’s heads, biting and causing a real ruckus.

 “Yeah let’s go killing, in the flames of Hell.”

 The music slowed down and again, the children pretended to fall asleep on the floor.

 “Then the little demons got very, very tired

“That they came back to the rock

They put down their heads

And they put down their tails

And then took a little nap.”

 Princess Charlie peered into the room for a visit, pleased to see the children laughing and having fun.

 “And when they woke up,

They decided to spread kindness.”

 The demon children stood up and danced together. They gave each other hugs and pretended to say nice things. “I love you.” “You’re a wonderful person.”

“Let’s bake cupcakes.”

 Charlie’s eyes welled with happy tears as she watched the sight.

 “And so they gave each other hugs

And they did chores

And they sang songs

And they gave each other gifts

And said nice things

And then they said,

‘Wait a minute! We’re demons!’”

 Charlie’s face paled and her smile fell, mouth open in a gasp.

 The class all declared: “’We don’t play nice! Let’s go killing!’”

 Charlie covered her mouth as blood sprayed everywhere. She ducked as a chair smashed against the wall. The song continued on. She brushed tears from her eyes, left behind a Happy Hotel flier and left.

 After class, Ebony found a lone picture of Ms. Mayberry in her human form lying on the desk. She slipped it into her backpack and followed her brother out the classroom door. She was thankful not to have to scrub toilets or run laps like many older kids.

 Ralphie picked them up and they headed back home. Martha arrived through the front door not long after.

 “How was work, honey?” Ralphie asked, licking his wife on the cheek.

 “Marvelous!” she exclaimed. ���I helped perform five sacrifices to Satan today. I was named in a magazine as “the next potential priestess of the Satanic temple.” The services went by smoothly and we even raised money for the homeless.” She was hiding the fact that she had been showing off her cleavage to another male cult member on her break.

 “That’s marvelous,” Ralphie said. “Even in this hellhole, you still do great things.”

 “Hey, look what we found!” Ebony said. She took out the picture of Ms. Mayberry and handed it over to Martha. “I think our teacher drew a human.”

 The kids ran off.

 Martha’s red eyes narrowed as she examined it closely.

 “I know that woman…”

 Martha had seen her…flashbacks of an angry Mrs. Mayberry shooting wildly at her after making out with Jarold. Then she thought back to her death and the imps that had been sent after her.

 Martha spoke in a low voice, almost to herself. “That sick woman…of course she’d be down here in Hell. She’d do anything to get in my way, after my casual fling with her lover.”

 She hovered a claw over the picture. “Could she have something to do with those filthy creatures sent to kill my family?”

 Martha seethed and the picture in her hand burst into flames, ash falling to the floor. Her form glowed with an evil, red aura. Sooner or later, she was going to find those bastard imps and give them literal hell to pay.

 And for Mrs. Mayberry? The old widow would be vilified by everyone in the city. Then she would die alone, alone and painfully without any lover or children to comfort her. Martha thought she would make a great offering to Satan.

 The dark pink succubus let out a crazed determined laugh. “Not today, Satan, not today!”

Hell, Pentagram City

“Some Guy”

2021

 The Buckeyes were playing at a large black coffin-shaped basketball stadium, more specifically the Rottenstein Stadium. The beefy red-skinned demon who had killed his cheating wife and died by the electric chair, used to play for the Ohio men’s basketball team in Columbus, Ohio on Earth. He had hired I.M.P. to kill the person who had alerted the police when he hid the body. Did they accomplish their mission? He didn’t know.

 “Hey Mando, over here!” called a voice. The red buff demon caught the basketball from his scaly cyclops teammate just in time. He dribbled it down the black wooden court, wearing his white jersey with “Ohio” on it in red letters. His white sneakers squeaked as he dashed across the floor. The cheers of the crowd and the sports announcer discussing the game motivated him on. Only ten seconds left…

 “Outta my way!” he roared as a bunch of hunched wolves in blue jerseys tried to close in. His rows of four sharp teeth were visible. Mando maneuvered the ball quickly between the palms of his hands, dodging the gray arms trying to reach for it. His bulky body did its job in knocking his opponents back. Seeing no clear path toward his teammates, he decided to keep going. With as much strength as he could muster, Mando leaped up and tossed the ball with both hands. The ball soared in a high arc toward the hanging hoop on a wooden casket…

 And by a stroke of luck, it fell right through just as the buzzer sounded. Mando stood up and cheered with his teammates as the zombie coach blew the whistle nearby. The scoreboard read Buckeyes 99, Wolverines 96. A crowd of demons wearing red and white held up signs that read “Go Buckeyes!” “Bullseye for Buckeyes!” One mascot was dressed like an eye with antlers arching along the top. The wolverine team of werewolves howled in disappointment.

 “Yeah!” Mando grinned as he spun the basketball with one of his fingers. “Down go the doggos!”

 “Nice shot, man!” complimented the cyclops teammate. “At this rate, we’ll be able to face off against the Bee-zelbubs and the Dragons in no time.” Mando took several deep breaths and wiped his face with a nearby cloth. He gulped down an entire can of Monster energy drink before following his teammates to the locker rooms. After washing up, the large demon smashed a hole for himself through the wall near the stadium entrance and headed down the street. Streetlamps shaped like eyes at the top and held together with bones, flickered above him. He snatched a beer from an unsuspecting demon and guzzled some of it. He let out a loud burp, sending other demons scattering.

 The red demon took out his Eye-Pod and listened to some rock music with rap lyrics. Another song had the vocals of Lilith backed up by her group of performers. He even bobbed his head to “Inside of Every Demon is a Rainbow” and the I.M.P. Jingle. Although he wasn’t that much into musicals, he could see why so many in Hell loved them.

 He saw a poster of I.M.P. and glared like a snorting bull. He hadn’t heard anything back from them yet ever since the time he appeared on their commercial. What was taking so long? He hadn’t even gotten his check yet because according to another I.M.P. billboard, it took several weeks to arrive by mail. (He did get a pile of meat and a small bag of money but it wasn’t the same.) Anger boiled up inside him, it took all his effort not to punch the nearest building or demon.

 Wrath had been Mando’s main sin, no doubt. As soon as he leaned that his wife had been having sex with the local delivery man, he lost all control and beat her to death. Then, of course, a jogger had spotted him trying to hide the body in a park and alerted the police. He was sent to jail and then died by the electric chair. He hadn’t forgiven those in his life…not even himself. At least he somewhat had lived up to his father’s expectations for him to be a star athlete.

 He stared in disgust at a magazine depicting a blonde demon wearing revealing black underwear barely covering her exposed butt and standing by a mailbox. “Your Special Delivery!” was written in bold letters at the top. Mando blew fire from his mouth and the magazine crumpled to ash. He sighed and continued on.

 Why did his wife have to cheat on him behind his back? It was natural instinct to become jealous and illogical after finding out your lover was unfaithful. Apparently, she had said the delivery man was charming, generous with letters and “free of any anger issues.” She had emphasized that last part much to his disdain.

 Mando lived a lonely life in an old apartment in the Ring of Wrath, the same district where Moxxie and Millie lived. The district was full of fire, poverty, angry people and fights on boats over the River Styx. He was glad he was not one of the unlucky wailing souls trapped beneath the water. Hell was like Chicago but with monsters and magic. His bedroom was small and cramped, with basketball posters on the walls and sets of lifting weights.

  But Mando wasn’t ready to go home to annoying side neighbors and cigarette filled rooms. The exercise had made him hungry. He smiled and spotted a nearby café, the sign in the shape of a white bat up on the top. The top had an awning that looked like part of a torn up circus flap.

 A guy with glasses and shaped like a purple serpent held the door open for the buff demon. His shoulders and belly got stuck on the way in. He first tried to stuff his way in, to no avail. He growled in anger, even as the purple guy said, “back up, sir.” Mando punched the glass doors, making them shatter, while also knocking the purple guy aside.

 “Table for one!” Mando said, barging in and staring at the frightened blue fish server. A black neon cat holding a saxophone in a corner looked at the blue fish with concern but the blue server smiled, saying “I’ve got this one.”

 “Right this way, sir,” the fish said, opening the door as wide as he could for the red demon to strut outside. He found a larger chair at a table to support his weight and sat down. The server placed a dish of deviled eggs onto the table as Mando glanced at the menu. He popped a few into his mouth as he admired the garden and pavilion. A black iron fence separated the area from the street. There were rose bushes nearby as well and a few ravens were pecking scraps of food from the grass.

 Mando finished his plate and was about to leave.

 Then, his eyes spotted a random beauty sitting at an adjacent table.

 She was a purple demon with long white hair who was drinking a cup of tea. A clipboard with a piece of paper labeled “lesson plans” was in front of her. She was wearing a torn black shirt that reached the lower part of her legs and a reddish shirt with stitches on it. She had curved horns, a black bandanna and a red upside down cross on her skirt. Her large red eyes met his with a brief glare before turning away. A cigarette dangled from her mouth.

 Mando took a deep breath and decided to say hello, just to give it a shot. He stood up from his chair and made his way over to the table. He sat down across from her, fiddling with his black spiked bracelets. The woman looked at him again, a look of confusion from her face.

 “Can I help you?”

 “Uh, just wanted to say hi and stuff.”

 “Well then, hi.”

 There was an awkward silence that stretched out for a moment.

 “Sorry, I guess I’ll just leave,” the red demon began but she said, “wait.”

 The woman peered at him closely, fingers up to her chin. “You look familiar. I think I saw your face on that I.M.P. commercial.”

 “You know about I.M.P.?” Mando asked.  

 “Of course,” she said. She held out her hand. “I’m Ms. Mayberry. Some still call me Mrs. Mayberry but that’s unnecessary since, you know, that time…”

 She trailed off, her face briefly turning pink. “Sorry, getting off topic.” Their hands met for a handshake, Mayberry’s lavender hand small within the red demon’s palm.

 “I don’t recall my human name. My peers call me Mando. Not sure why.”

 More silence.

 “So,” Mando said scratching his chin, “You were saying you know I.M.P.?”

 Mayberry held her cigarette in one hand. “Yes. I found them after watching the ad. Walked up to their headquarters in Imp City and talked business with their leader.”

 “Oh? You hired them too? How’d it go?”

 The woman smiled with sharp teeth. “They did their job well. They traveled to the living world to kill my husband’s whore. Ended up killing her whole family.”

 Mando grinned and chuckled. “My, my! You must’ve been satisfied after that.”

 “I guess you could say that. I remember you saying you…killed your wife, right?”

 Mando nodded, cracking his knuckles. “Yeah she was asking for it.”

 Mrs. Mayberry briefly seethed, hiding her fear. “If you even think about…”

 Mando backed up, holding out his hands, “No, no, no, I’m not gonna hurt you, ma’am. I might have a bad temper but I can still control it…sometimes.”

 A red aura glowed around Mayberry and Mando gulped. The glow faded away.

 “Anyway…yeah I hired I.M.P. to go after a person who saw me hiding her body. Haven’t heard back from them yet. I’d like to see that guy’s head in front of me if possible. What did you do next?”

 “Well, I obviously hired I.M.P. to go kill Martha. And it worked out well, like I said.”

 Mando beamed, his black eyes shining. “What a coincidence for us to have so much in common! This is wonderful!”

 Mrs. Mayberry had to smile herself. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, yet. I do need some time to collect my thoughts.” She inhaled smoke from her cigarette and exhaled.

 Mando leaned slightly back. “As do I. I completely understand.”

 “Do you though? You’re not a school teacher who murdered her husband in front of your schoolchildren. And then took your own life.”

 Mando visibly winced at that. “I…I’m so sorry. Then again, you’re not a former basketball player who died in an electric chair after being caught. I didn’t get to choose how I died.”

 Mayberry’s face showed a hint of kindness. “That must’ve been hard as well. But strangely enough, I.M.P. brought us together.”

 Mando laughed. “Yeah, who would’ve thought that would ever happen!”

 After that, the two of them were content to just sit quietly drinking their drinks and eating various snacks. Their conversation became more light-hearted.

 “Yeah I know I.M.P.s not perfect,” said Mando, “You should’ve seen Blitzo’s misspellings on the billboard. ‘Come to I Am Pee?!’ No wonder their business has been slow.”

 Both of them laughed out loud.

 “That imp can be annoying. He should come to my spelling classes,” Mayberry giggled.

  “But I’m willing to give them another chance…for you.”

 “You still don’t know me well,” Mayberry deadpanned.

 “Heh. Sorry. Have a tendency to rush into things. Literally as well.” He rubbed his head.

 Mayberry chuckled. “You must’ve gotten knocked in the head a lot, I imagine.”

 “That’s what happens in sports. Oh, good news, I just won my recent game this morning.”

 “Congrats!” Mayberry said. “Wish I was there to see it, but I have my job.”

 “Where at?”

 “Pentagram Penitentiary Place.”

 “Ah, the boot camp school. Pretty strict over there, I heard.”

 “It’s not too bad. The atmosphere helped me toughen up when I first applied. Even in Hell, it still brings me joy to sharpen the minds of the youth. Though I do wish there was less emphasis on murder all the time.”

 “Says the one who murdered her husband and tried to kill his lover.”

 “Oh shut it.”

 Mayberry sighed as Mando smirked playfully. “I just wish things were…better, you know. Don’t you ever wish you could somehow magically change yourself and go off to a better place?”

 “Mhmm,” Mando nodded. “But like they all say, ‘Hell’s a one way trip down.’ We’re stuck here forever. Might as well make the best of it.”

 Mayberry thought back to when she collected the Happy Hotel flier that Charlie had left behind when she peered into the classroom. Redeeming demons shouldn’t be possible, yet Hell’s own princess firmly believed in it. Could it really be true?

 Mando saw her pondering in thought and thought of something to brighten things up. “Hmm, maybe if you’d like, I could come by and coach the kids on some basketball moves when I’m not practicing or playing.”

 This time, Mayberry’s eyes sparkled. “That would be wonderful, sir! The kids haven’t had a proper gym instructor in months. The last one got his head kicked off by wild teens. They’ll need someone to look up to.”

 Mando grinned and pounded his fist into his palm. “You bet I can keep them in line. I’ve learned a few things from my coaches…they’ll be in tip top shape in no time!”

 “Just…please don’t hurt them,” Mayberry pleaded.

 “You have my word miss,” he said.

 Mando couldn’t help but stare at her beautiful face and features. It wasn’t a face of youthful beauty, but it radiated wisdom and strength.

 Mayberry looked unsure. “It’s been a while since someone has looked at me like that.”

 Mando chuckled in embarrassment after staring at her breasts under her shirt. “My bad.”

 “No it’s…fine,” she trailed off, eyes looking off to the side. It was a look of lust, but not entirely. It was almost like the way her husband looked at her before…

 She brushed the memory aside. There was no reason to trust this guy…at least not completely. He was just a friendly acquaintance. Even still, she revealed what was plaguing her mind.

 “I worry sometimes that that Martha person, might be down here,” she said. “I don’t wanna have to deal with her again after what happened. I mean, we both died and did bad things…”

 “Don’t worry about it,” Mando assured her. “From the looks of things, you know how to take care of yourself.”

 Both of them got up from their seats. Mayberry stood up straighter, pleased with the reassurance. She kept telling herself to be strong, but hearing it from someone else made her feel…lighter, less weighed down by her thoughts. Mando stood up, towering over her.

 Mando fished into his shirt and gave her a card with his name and number on it. The Ohio State logo was on one corner.

 “No, no, I’m not ready for that yet…”

 He still held it out in front of her. “You don’t have to do anything with it,” he said. “Just know that I’ll be around if you ever feel unsafe.”

 Mayberry stood still, left eye twitching. It almost felt like she was betraying her husband by talking with another man. She had promised herself that she would remain faithful to him in life.

 But now things were different. She was in Hell, a place where she could do what she wished. It was her second chance.

 With shaking, hesitant fingers, she gripped onto the card and took it, putting it in her purse.

“It was lovely to meet you, Ms. Mayberry,” Mando said.

 “Same to you,” she said.

 “Want to meet up together next week?”

 “I’ll do a rain-check,” Mayberry said.

 “Be careful, the acid rains here aren’t too pleasant without umbrellas.”

 Mayberry snickered a bit. “We’ll see.”

 “I’ll go ahead and support I.M.P. with you,” he mentioned. “Those crazy killers need more recognition. You never know when you’ll need someone eliminated.”

 “Agreed,” Mayberry said. “Using the grimoire to enter the living world is no small feat.”

 “See you around!” he called, as he broke through the wrought iron fence, sending birds flapping and scattering.

 Mayberry watched him stomp off before she exited through the cafe door. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 The murder of crows swooped down and landed on another table partially shadowed among the rosebushes. There were several wilted rose heads on a plate and a mug of coffee. The birds landed on the shoulders of a figure behind a white newspaper. One gloved hand stroked the bird’s feathers. The paper lowered slightly to reveal two large glowing red eyes.