I don’t like satanists, alright? It’s mostly the fact that they are all stuck-up pricks who can’t help but act exactly like stereotypical preaching prick Christian that doesn’t really exist for the most part. I know there are terrible Christians out there, but there are a lot of terrible satanists out there, too. “Actually, we aren’t that bad. We support human rights and we’re all about individualism” No, they’re not. They’re all about feeling special and having the moral high ground. That’s it.
You don’t need any extra labels or a “community” of narcissists who LARP as D&D classes to be decent human beings. Anton LaVey wasn’t about being a good guy and neither was Crowley. They were both sex pests with a lot of charisma, that’s all.
That said, I’ve had some personal experience with the worship of The God Below. Yes, I know, “Satanists don’t worship the devil.” They worship their own reflections as an act of self-empowerment. My experiences with Satanism have left a sour taste in my mouth.
That said, my own experiences were never the reason I get annoyed with self-obsessed pricks being what they are. It’s just the narcissistic behavior that drives me up the wall. Unfortunately, some people can’t take a joke or criticism and that leads them to become obsessed with strangers.
My distaste and banter have gotten me into a few arguments with these people. Most of these ended up with me getting blocked on social media by some angry cunt. Nothing too serious. It happens to everyone, doesn’t it?
What doesn’t happen to everyone is being stalked by some creep who keeps on threatening you on all of your social media accounts, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram… Everything over a silly comment online. The creep was telling me to kill myself, accusing me of being a bigoted fanatic, a supporter of everything evil in this world, and accused me of being every kind of monstrosity imaginable. Obviously, he never got the type quite right.
At first, I engaged him in his raged-filled keyboard bashing, but soon enough, he became annoying and I just started ignoring him. When that didn’t help, I blocked him and he just followed me somehow onto the next social media platform until I’ve blocked him on all of them. Being “doxed” once over some unrelated stuff, it wasn’t surprising I had an e-stalker who figured out my internet footprint.
What was actually scary is when I received a letter with photos of my house and a threatening note telling me I’ll get what I deserve soon enough. I was actually worried about the creep finding out where I live and physically stalking me, so I contacted the police who merely told me to just stay away from the guy’s presence online because it was “mostly an internet thing.”
Well, it wasn’t an internet thing for too long; he started calling my phone. Breathing into the phone and rasping all sorts of disgusting things aimed at me. He sent me more photos via mail, this time of me at my workplace and with my friends. That’s when I started breaking.
Anxiety hits me bad, really bad… I black out and become a completely different person. That’s why I usually don’t take anything to heart anymore. Because I can’t let myself slip into that dark pit again.
I contacted the authorities again. This time, they took my complaint seriously.
It was never properly adressed though, as nothing remained of my problem.
The day after I filed my complaint. I had an encounter with my stalker. Walking home from a late-night stroll at the marina, I heard feet shuffling behind me. Someone whistled to my left, and when I turned. The back of my head started pounding. My vision became blurred, and I lost my balance, falling to the concrete.
For the next few moments, I felt a rain of kicks and punches pounding every part of my body. A cacophony of cursing and berating echoed all around me as the pain that assaulted my mind from every direction began descending towards my stomach. It turned out that there was more than one guy who wanted to punish me for calling the Church of Satan nothing but a Church of Circlejerk. Before long, the pain became identical to the sensation of trying to digest glass and nails.
I couldn’t make out what my assailants were saying, but it didn’t matter. The feeling in my guts was far more terrifying than any beatdown I could’ve endured. It must’ve made a sound because the mob that was on top of me was suddenly running away. I remember vaguely getting up as the urge to throw up became unbearable.
Everything was so slow and murky, everything but the disgusting feeling of a hand climbing up my throat. I was throwing up, but the contents of my stomach just wouldn’t end. A black acidic mass crawled out of my mouth and onto the floor as I hopelessly watched it crawl out of me.
It hadn’t been this bad in years. The last time it came out, I had to move to a different down.
I could see my assailants were running away, but it was already too late. The demon was already out, half of its body slithering out of my mouth like a snake. It flew like a homing missile towards those who had awakened it.
All the while I was forced to watch, helplessly, as its acidic touch caught up to them, dissolving everything it touched into nothingness.
You see, when I was a child, my parents introduced me to their special church, The Misanthropic Children of Azrael. The experience wasn’t pleasant. In fact, what they had drilled into me remolded me into the fiend I am today. The bastards at the church implanted a real demon inside of my body.
It did save my life on more than one occasion, but it had also left a trail of destruction buried deep within the chambers of my mind. I am forced to live with the nightmarish aftermaths of each and every rampage of the thing that’s riding my body.
My assailants were no different that night, yet another victim of the lust of the demon inside. Thankfully, I’ve been too beat up to actually notice the details of their bloody obliteration. I don’t think they even got the chance to scream for help before the devil crawling out of my mouth devoured them.
The whole ordeal left me exhausted and sore, as if I had come off from a super marathon. I could barely make it home without passing out from the strain. Not to mention yet another set of fevered dreams to haunt me. This time, a bunch of idiots being turned paste and devoured by my very own sentient vomit.
I did get to see one of their faces before it was turned into a paste of brains and skull bits and swallowed into oblivion. It was the face of some IT guy who worked at the same company as me. That certainly explains how these pricks could’ve known so much about me. He probably looked into my private info to try to freak me out, but when that didn’t work, he opted to use violence.
I didn’t really know the guy. Though now that I think about it, he’s been giving me the stink eye for a while. I think it stemmed from the fact that I hang out with D.Z. from finances. I think he had a thing for her, but thought I took away his opportunity.
Little did the shithead know that, just like me, she carries an infernal nuke inside of her, in more than one sense. He’s lucky she never let him close, otherwise he’d been dead long ago.