It’s been years since I’ve taken a vacation. The only things I made time for were my career and my marriage. Both turned out to be a waste of time.
Without warning I was laid off after six years of late nights and missed events. At a late Friday afternoon meeting, we were all thanked for our dedication and told to clear out our desks by the end of the day.
About a month later my marriage was over. I found a note that said “so sorry” on the kitchen table. They loved me, but they were no longer IN LOVE with me. Also, there was someone else, but they would always love me. I wanted to work things out, but a divorce was all I got. The proceedings were fast, and I didn’t lose everything at least.
There was decent amount of money saved up in the bank, but that’s all I had. Years of dedicating myself to my job and marriage caused my friendships to fade away. My last remaining family member passed away last year. I had no one.
For a few weeks I got what my Stepdad called “Keith Moon” drunk., The hangovers didn’t do much to raise my spirits, so I curtailed my drinking, a little bit.
I updated my resume and scoured the job sites. Hours of looking at listings made me realize how boring my life was. Not just the drunk divorcee finding jobs part. The whole damn thing. No family, no friends, no love, no excitement. There comes a point in your life when all your wild stories are about something that happened ten years ago.
It wasn’t like I wanted to recreate my youth, but it was time to start living. Time to make new friends, find love, try new things. I made a couple of dating profiles and joined various online groups. Some of them even met up in real life.
My resume had been viewed a few times, but no interviews. Half “we’re sorry to inform you”, half being ghosted. I went on a few dates, but there wasn’t a lot of chemistry. The events I went to were fun, but the other attendees were obsessive or worse, awkward like me.
Part of me regretted putting myself out there at all, but I knew I wasn’t going to live by sitting at home. While I was checking my email, I saw an ad for a place called Plata Key. My arrow hovered over delete, but something occurred to me. I hadn’t been on vacation for at least five years.
The link took me to a video of beautiful beach filled with equally beautiful people. Turquoise waters crashed into ivory sands. Art galleries and crab shacks lined the board walk. Tropical, luxury hotels had bars with live music and five-star restaurants.
Outside it was gray and dreary. A light rain made the bark of the leafless trees black. The cold air had caused a few of my windows to fog a little. Instead of closing the tab, I booked myself a week in a King Suite at La Vista Bonita Seaside Hotel.
That weekend I was on a ferry approaching Plata Key. The turquoise waters were even more beautiful in person. There was a cliff on the western side of the island.
A large house stood at the top, looking down at all below. I know very little about architecture, but I knew I found the place impressive. Part of me longed to see the place, but I settled for the fact I was booked at the highest ranked hotel on the key.
My room had a decent sized balcony that overlooked the boardwalk and the beach. Smiling tourists carried shopping bags, while the beautiful people sunned themselves by the shore.
I know it’s cliche, but I bought a seashell bracelet from a stand on the boardwalk. It was going to be a talisman symbolizing my new beginnings. After that I explored the art galleries.
Some of them were tourist traps with prints priced like paintings. The images looked like the beach outside if you squinted. One gallery thought having Thomas Kinkade was still a big deal.
My favorite galleries were the small ones, run by free spirits and aging hippie types. I bought a lovely painting that looked just like the shore outside. The artist was a woman in her seventies. Her parrot sat perched at the back of her gallery. Then I bought a photograph of the boardwalk from a guy who clearly modeled his look after Thomas Magnum. As I left, he turned the Allman Brothers back up to full blare.
These pieces were going to serve as artifacts from the trip that changed my life. They would remind me after a day at my new job and remember that life could be lived well. However, I lost my desire to pick up any more artwork at the next gallery I visited.
I just finished thumbing through a print rack when I noticed a strange man watching me in a mirror. When I turned to look at him, he made a brisk escape into another room. It was uncomfortable being watched, so I left the gallery and headed back to the hotel. Shopping wasn’t the only reason I was here anyway.
--
After a little siesta I went down to the beach. Before I reached the ivory sand, I took off my shoes. I wanted to feel it squish between my toes. The sand was soft and warm, each step towards the ocean was a pleasure. I sat down on one of the bright-colored, Adirondack chairs the hotel set up for its guests and looked to my left.
Three children were throwing a frisbee out in the ocean. Their dog gave chase, then swam back to shore with the frisbee clasped in its jaws. Parents applied sunscreen to their babies while telling their older kids to “wait at LEAST a half hour”.
On my right, the grown-ups were sunbathing and reading paperbacks. There was a nude beach on the key, but I wasn’t brave enough to visit. Nor did I think I was on it. Yet down beyond where the kids could see, I noticed some people who wouldn’t have tan lines when they went home.
Everyone appeared to be having a great time. A nice breeze came across the water to keep me from falling asleep under the warm sun. I stood up to stretch and noticed a woman watching me. If she had been wearing sunglasses I wouldn’t have noticed, but I could see she wasn’t scanning the crowd. She was looking directly at me.
She collected her things into a big bag and stormed off the beach. Her strange behavior troubled me. Stranger still, that was the second time someone was spying on me that day. The woman disappeared into the mob of tourists on the board walk. I felt uneasy, so I decided to leave the beach in search of dinner.
I ate the Seaside Sampler al fresco at Gus Gator’s Crab Shack. The Grilled Calamari at Howard Phillips’ Vista could wait another night. Dusk was setting in and the neon lines were coming on. When I paid, I asked my server where the best live music was. They directed me to The Queen Bee down the street.
Queen Bee’s decor was a mish mash of Carribean, Cuban, and Trailer Park. Posters of famous reggae acts and mock street signs with dirty jokes covered every inch of wall space. The music was good though, and the drinks were even better.
I started off with a bottle Gaiman’s Lager as a calypso band came on. Couples of all ages danced in front of the stage. Some of them were even good at it.
People wearing Bob Marley t-shirts or Margaritaville hats started to shuffle in at the end of the calypso act. Most reeked of beer and pot. I ordered a Tequila Sunrise as a reggae act started up. The bass rumbled through the floor causing me to need the bathroom.
A small crowd of people made the already tight hallway even harder to move through. I accidently bumped shoulders with a guy passionately kissing his girlfriend. I apologized, but they kept making out unphased.
When I made my way back to the bar, the couple was still at it. I ordered another drink while the reggae band played “You Can Get It If You Really Want”. I scanned the crowd as I waited for my drink. People who wandered in right before the second act were swaying slowly in front of the stage while some of the couples were sitting this band out. The couple that was making out in the hallway, was looking right at me.
This caught me off guard. If they were upset about me bumping into them, they would have brought it up at the time. Or maybe when I was coming out of the bathroom. That wasn’t it though. These people had the same look as the man in the gallery and the woman on the beach. There was intent in their gaze. I started to back out of the place when I bumped into some one behind me.
“Whoa, party fowl,” a voice said behind me.
I turned around to see a man whose sleeve and hand were covered in beer.
“I…I am so sorry,” I said to the man. I looked over my shoulder to see if the couple was still staring at me, but they were gone.
“No harm, no….” The man smiled. “I mean party fowl, but you didn’t mean it”.
“Tequila Sunrise,” the bartender said as he held out my drink. I was going to tell him I didn’t want it anymore, but the man I bumped into said, “let me get that for you. In fact, bartender a shot of tequila for my new friend and me!”
I tried to resist, but the man shook his head and handed the bartender a fifty.
“You a tourist?”
Before I could answer he said, “I can tell. Say why don’t you join my friends and me for a drink?”
He waved his hand at a group of seven or so people. Part of me was reluctant to join them, but two things occurred to me. Safety in numbers. Four people spying on in you in one day makes you want back up. Second thing is that I came here to have fun, to meet new people. To live.
“One drink shouldn’t hurt,” I said.
“AYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!”
--
One drink is what I said, but it turned into one drink at Queen Bee’s.
“Let’s go someplace quieter so we can talk a little,” the man said. “Quieter, but not boring. We’ll take you to Gillman’s Piano Bar”.
Food trucks were camped out on the beach side of the street, doing their best to lure diners away from the crab shacks and high-priced restaurants. There was a nice selection.
Junji’s Walking Fish offered “Portable Sushi” to eat as you walked along the beach. Whatever the fish was, I couldn’t stand the smell.
The next truck was Taqueria Del Toro. They had their own homemade Chorizo in addition to fish tacos of course.
Even though I was enjoying Plata Key, I felt a twinge of homesickness when I saw a truck for Dan & Harold’s Windy City Eats.
We didn’t stop for anything, as tempting as some of it was. My stomach was full of Sampler and booze. Eating anything else would add insult to injury.
Gillman’s Piano Bar looked like a dive on the outside. Once I saw the interior though, I felt underdressed. Patrons were stylish to shabby, but the place looked like something from an old movie.
Once we found a table that would seat all of us, the man nodded to one of the bartenders. The bartender brought over a whiskey for everyone at the table.
“Dammit Sam, you know I hate scotch,” one of the others said to the man.
“It’s tradition Ashley,” the man said.
“I have to say, I don’t really like scotch either,” I said.
“It’s tradition, uh, what’s your name”.
“I didn’t say”.
“Neither did I. Samuel Taylor, Sam to my friends. And tonight, dear stranger, we are friends”.
“Here, here,” some of them said.
“To the pre-game” Sam said.
We clinked our glasses. Some of the people relished the whiskey, while others grimaced. I scrunched my face as I endured the burning in my throat coupled with the taste of pissed off leather.
“So, what brings you to our neck of the woods,” Sam asked.
“Vacation,” I said. “Been a long time since I’ve taken one”.
“Couldn’t have picked a better place,” Ashley said. Sam nodded in agreement.
“What do you do in the real world,” another asked.
“I’m in between things in the moment”.
“Are you here alone,” one of the others asked.
“Shit,” Ashley said, “do you just lack tact or are you trying to see if they’re available?”
“I’m alone,” I said.
I could feel the blood rush into my cheeks after I said it. Ashley grasped one of my hands. Sam sank his drink and motioned to the bartender.
“Well then,” Sam said, “it’s a good thing you bumped into us while we prepare”.
“Prepare for what?”
“The party up at my house”.
“Oh, I should probably head back to the hotel after this”.
“Did you come here to turn in at 10:30?”
“Well……no”.
“Good, then it’s settled. You’re among friends. We’ll get you back to your hotel. You staying at La Vista Bonita?”
I nodded in reflex.
“There you go. Bartender another round for our party please!”
Some of the others groaned when Sam ordered. We spent the next hour, drinking scotch, making small talk, and listening to the piano player cover Gershwin, Basie, and Brubeck.
--
“Where do you live?”
The words were sloppy, just like my walking.
“You see that hill over there,” Sam said. “I live at the house at the top”.
He pointed a finger to the house I admired on the ferry.
“You live up there?!?!”
“Nice huh?”
“Easy for a surgeon to afford,” Ashley said.
“Former surgeon,” Sam said. I couldn’t tell if it was humility or shame in his tone.
The incline was murder in my half drunken state. As we climbed the hill, there was a beautiful view of the ocean to our left. Stars shone on the wavy surface. They looked like floating diamonds.
A sound came way out from the sea. I couldn’t make out what it was. Something between singing and wailing.
The rest of the group started to take off ahead of me. Sam slowed down a little bit to stay with me.
“We’re almost at the end friend”.
I smiled. The sounds came again.
“What is that sound Sam?”
He smiled.
“I’ll tell you later. Let’s get to the party first”.
The front door of Sam’s house probably cost the same as three months of my mortgage. On the left there was a grand staircase that snaked up to a second floor. Beneath it was a passageway that led to a lower level. Forward right was the living room, packed full of guests. Just like the piano bar, the people here were both stylish and shabby. When we walked in, they cheered and clapped.
“Everybody, the reason we’re all here,” Ashley said waving a hand at us.
They cheered again. A man was snorting white powder off a tray on the living room table. I must have looked concerned, because Sam put a hand on my shoulder.
“You don’t have to do that if you don’t want. I don’t either,” Sam said.
“It’s not that. Aren’t you worried that….”
“That Captain Ron Maxwell of Plata Key Police is going to ruin every fucking bath towel I own if gets a bloody nose? Maybe.”
I was puzzled. Sam tried to reassure me.
“Don’t worry, anything you see here you can do if you like. And if you don’t, that’s okay too. We just want you to be comfortable. And don’t worry, even if the police here DID care….well, everyone has their price don’t they?”
Now I really wanted to go back to the hotel, but my damn, drunk legs wouldn’t carry me. I checked my phone to see if I had reception, but I hadn’t charged it. No rideshare for me. I just needed to sit down and relax a while. Plus, I actually had the opportunity to see the house on the hill from the inside.
With his hand still on my shoulder, Sam guided me through the living room to the kitchen. There was a large kitchen island that could seat ten or more. He sat me down and patted me on the back.
No one was snorting coke in here. All the discussions were merging into one big noise. I looked into the living room and noticed a large wooden carving on the wall. It looked like a legless caterpillar howling at the moon. Behind it, there was a smaller wood carving, the shape and dimension too difficult to understand in my state.
When Sam came back, he produced a fresh tequila sunrise. I gave him a look of uncertainty. He put a glass of water down next to it.
“Either one is here if you want it. I’ll give you the grand tour later, but right now you should rest, and I should attend to my other guests”.
Music started blasting in the room beyond the kitchen. By the end of the wretched tune, the whole world had apparently gone country. My head was swimming as another song just like it came on. No reggae or piano jazz to be found here.
I took a sip from my glass of water, then another, and another. Before I knew it, I had gulped it all down. A small crowd stood between the sink and me. Plus, it felt like it was a mile away.
For a few minutes I sat there. My throat felt like a desert. I scanned the kitchen, watching all of the guests talking. Their conversations ringing in my head.
Against my better judgement, I started to drink my cocktail. For a moment it cured my dry throat, and it tasted so good. Perhaps the best tequila sunrise I had ever tasted. Like the water, I guzzled it down. For a few minutes I was fine, but then I felt my stomach roll.
I saw a sliding door at the other end of the next room. My hand was cupped over my mouth as I navigated through the guests. Three men sat on a couch, smoking something that smelled like glass cleaner. There was a card table set up in the middle of the room. I couldn’t tell what they were playing because I was distracted by a drunk woman dancing naked against the wall.
The glass door slid open with relative ease, and I found the one place at the party that wasn’t crowded. Vomit rocketed out of my mouth and over the balcony ledge. Behind me, the singer of the song exclaimed he had never been to Heaven. But he’d been to Oklahoma. People cheered.
At some point in my life, I would’ve been thrilled for anyone to even think of inviting me to a party like this. Though as I stood there alone on the balcony, I wondered what the Hell I was doing here. I came to Plata Key to have an adventure, but I felt stupid at this party.
The glass door slid shut. By some miracle, I couldn’t hear the music or the people inside.
“You okay,” Sam said behind me.
“I just puked….sorry”.
I was half sorry. After all it was a bender since I bumped into him, and I hate scotch.
“Well room for more now right,” Sam said with a chuckle.
I shot him a look. He placed a glass of water down on the railing. I nodded to him in gratitude. We just stood there for a moment, the ocean breeze cooling me down.
“Sorry, I know my people can be…..alot.,” Sam said. “It’s a big tent, but I try to make EVERYONE feel welcome. I hope this didn’t ruin your night”.
“It’s….alright,” I said.
Part of me didn’t mean it. Sure he’d “taken me in” and “shown me a good time”, but it was weird. Who goes drinking before throwing a huge party at their house? Who has cops snorting coke off their living room table? Who has meth heads, watching naked women doing pelvic thrusts next to a card table, in an expensive house like this? Some of the people mingling here looked like they had expensive houses too.
My ex would say an eccentric with “fuck you” money. They would also be surprised to see me at a party like this. Not so boring now, huh honey?
When I took another sip of water, I heard the sound from the sea.
“What is that sound Sam?”
Sam flashed his bright, white teeth with a toothy grin. His black hair looked even darker now, and his blue eyes were almost hypnotizing.
“Depends on who you ask,” he said. “Local legends vary. Some say they are mermaids while others claim they’re sirens. To some they’re angels to others they’re sea devils. I’ve even heard them referred to as eldritch”.
I gave him a look. He smiled
“Weird or sinister. Ghostly…. Unwholesome…. It’s not a word one hears in general circulation”.
“What do you think it is?”
He shrugged.
“Maybe we’ll see tonight”.
He clapped me on the back and went inside. I took a sip of water, then another. Then I fell to sleep.
--
When I woke up my vision was blurred. Even though I was still, my focus kept shifting. There was a deep pounding in my brain and mouth tasted like metal and vomit.
As my vision started to clear up, I could see the ceiling of a shower. There was a stinging sensation all along the back of my body. I was so cold. When I shifted there was a clickity noise. My neck was finally free to move.
I was in the bathtub of my King Suite, and it was filled with ice. The digits in my hand could move at their bases, but I couldn’t feel my fingertips. Terror gripped me when I noticed they were pitch black. Below the knuckles was an olive green, beyond that was my normal skin color. My feet were about the same.
Another stinging sensation came alive in my abdomen. I tried to undo my shirt, but my fingers couldn’t negotiate the buttons. I managed to pull my shirt up a bit. Stitches and wrappings all across my stomach. It looked like they led up to my chest. Some of the wrappings were drenched with blood.
My head lulled to the right. A tablet was sitting on the toilet. There was a note on it that said, “We call every hour, on the hour”. I tried to scream for help, but my voice couldn’t manage it. The tablet started to ring, but I couldn’t get up to reach it. This happened another two times. By the third call I had the tablet but couldn’t swipe to take the call. The fourth time I swiped with the base of my knuckle.
“HI,” Sam said. He looked concerned. “I was beginning to think you were already gone”.
Already gone? What the Hell?
“I know you have a lot of questions, but you probably can’t speak. So, I’ll do the talking for both of us”.
In spite of everything else, I could still muster resentment for him for saying that.
“I just want you to know, we didn’t take anything out. We aren’t butchers selling your organs on the dark web or something….Instead, we gave you something”.
Gave me something? A hangover at best, but more likely some large scars and a flesh-eating virus.
“You seem like a nice person. But the fact of the matter is, you’re alone. You have no life to get back to. That’s why we gave you life. A new life as it so happens”.
I felt so worthless.
“This new life, it will give you purpose. You came here looking for new experiences, new connections. What you’re experiencing now, it’s singular. In a way I’m jealous of you”.
I didn’t know if I could still emote, but I did my best to show him the disdain I felt in the fiber of my being.
“I know…… The necrosis looks like it’s already setting in. Despite my best efforts, you will feel a great deal of pain before this is all over. Like I said, I’m a FORMER surgeon. I’ve found a higher calling since then”.
I started to sob, but my brain shut it off. The movement caused me even more agony, so my reflexes spared me.
“There’s supplies out in your room. I want you to try and get out there. Get out to the balcony and listen. And one more thing….”
I couldn’t him.
“Try to enjoy this. You’ve probably done your best to block out what happened. But try to remember. Try to cherish it. Try to find joy in this”.
With what little control I had, I chucked the tablet to the bathroom floor.
“You’re being childish, but I understand. I’ll leave you alone now. Someone will collect you when the time is right”.
Sam was wrong on so many levels. There’s also something he didn’t know. After a while of lying there in my helpless state, I remembered everything. What seemed like a nightmare, was actually a memory.
Now I know you’re wondering, why am I telling you all of this? Why am I going into such detail? There are two things I know for certain. I’m dying. My limbs are rotting, I’ve lost a lot of blood, and I feel something inside.
The other thing I know is, I am alone. The doctors couldn’t save me now. Even if the cops cared, Sam could buy them off. My ex was gone. All of my family was dead. My old friends were long gone and the people who called themselves my new friends… Well, they did this to me.
You may not even care what I’m telling you. But I implore you, take it to heart. This long ramble is my warning to you all.
--
Something knocked me out. Maybe the water, maybe one of the cocktails. It doesn’t matter.
When I came to, I was being carried by six people on a stretched-out blanket or canvas. We travelled down the backyard of the hous which sloped to a clearing in the trees. Beyond it was the cliff that stood over the ocean. On top of it there was a stone slab. They laid me down upon the slab. I was unable to move.
The six stood around me. We were surrounded by a multitude of people wearing cloaks. I could hear footsteps approaching the slab.
“Is all prepared,” I heard Ashley ask.
“All is ready,” the six around me said in unison.
“Let us all call upon the powers that be,” Ashley said.
They all dropped their cloaks and lifted their arms to the sky, dressed only in the light of the moon and stars. The people who had spied on me earlier, were among the six who surrounded me. All those around me started to speak in unison.
“From the first ring of the funeral bell
To the ocean bottom, to the depths of Hell
To beyond the stars where the Old Ones dwell
To the Pit where that first angel fell
We call upon the powers that be
To give us vision, help us see
By word and deed, by fang and claw
We here uphold thine sacred law
The hour three is thine own hour
Grant us strength, grant us power.”
“We gathered here call upon the powers of the dark,” Ashely said in a booming voice.
“We call to those beneath the depths and beyond the void,” the multitude said in response.
“We gathered here serve these powers”.
“It is RIGHT to serve them”.
“Tonight, the veil between our world and the other worlds is thin. Tonight, we perform our sacraments”.
Four of the people surrounding me stepped away. Sam approached me on the right. In his hand he held a small, ceremonial blade. To my left someone was holding what looked like a silver orb.
“Master of the blade,” Ashely said. “BEGIN!”
Sam plunged the instrument into my belly. A burning sensation spread as he slowly carved across me. As he did, a tear in the sky appeared, growing with my incision.
“Mistress of the vessel, perform your sacred duty,” Ashely said.
The silver orb wiggled and warbled. Sam dug his fingers into my incision and pulled it apart. The mistress placed the orb gently, then rammed it deep into my innards. I howled with agony as they performed their “sacraments”. Sam leaned towards my ear and whispered.
“This will be what you make of it”.
I tried to shoot him a look of hatred, but my eyes were fixed on the tear in the sky. The multitude looked only at me. Perhaps they could not see what I did. Maybe they were too frightened to look. Whatever they planted in me, granted me a vision of what was beyond that tear. Take what I tell you as a warning and prepare.
Every legend you’ve heard, ever nightmare you ever had, is true. Throughout space and time, there lies an unholy kinship that binds all dark things together. There lies a hierarchy that starts with the first fallen angel that goes as low as the things that scurry and slither upon the Earth.
Spirits haunt the lonely roads and empty places, while night creatures haunt the land and the sea. Cosmic monstrosities hide behind the cracks in our existence, nurturing the cruelty that lies in the hearts of evil people.
My mortal eyes witnessed every entity in every place. They work in perfect unison in order to create destruction and despair, and they delight in it.
Wild laughter came out of me during this horrid communion. I don’t know if I was going mad, or if it was some bid by mind, body, or soul to save what good could remain within me after this.
By some vicarious means I felt my own kinship with these wretched beings, but I know it truly belonged to the thing they buried inside me. The creatures in the sea called out to us, rejoicing in the terrible thing happening up on the cliff. I saw them now. The local legends did them no justice. They were beautiful and frightening in a way that no mere mortal could or should understand.
Beyond space, the thing that THEY prayed to floated unchecked. Behind it was blackened space, devoid of worlds, stars, and life. The surface of the thing was deep red, covered in greedy maws and dark eyes that appeared black but were actually deep green. The eyes only looked at that which it desired and devoured. I could see how it ignored the pleas and suffering of the things that worshipped it.
The creatures in the sea and the multitude on the cliff had a name for it in their prayers. The name was simply what the thing allowed them to call it. Its true name could not by uttered by their unworthy tongues, nor understood by their tiny minds.
It was lightyears away, but it floated towards us. As it went it gathered up worlds, stars, and life and ate them with no regard for the suffering and destruction it caused. This being was not the top of the hierarchy, but it was the origin of all greed and gluttony in our existence.
Appendages that were a mix between an elephant’s trunk and a tentacle covered its entirety. They sniffed out the things it devoured and dragged them to hungry mouths. As the planets and their inhabitants were pulled towards the gaping maws, the thing watched them intently yet held no remorse for their demise.
My mind was breaking as the tear in the sky started to close. The red monstrosity stopped its approach, the sea creatures stopped their song. Sam was stitching me up, the tear closing with each suture. The edges of my sight started to darken.
“The will of the darkness has been done”.
--
With rotted fingers, it has taken a long time to write this. You may find me foolish or vain, bothering to type this out. I had to though.
If you are a good person, if you try to give more than you take, or if you are simply lonely like me, prepare.
Tell your loved ones how much you care for them. Eat the foods that taste good. Listen to the music that moves you. Spoil the animals and the children in your life. Do the things that make you happy and be with the people who make your life worth living. The time you have to indulge in these pleasures may be short.
My face is puffed up like the wood carving in Sam’s house. I look like I’m howling at the moon, but I make no sound. I’ve have dragged myself to the balcony. The creatures in the sea are singing their song, and the thing inside me yearns to join them. I can’t control myself, I long to hear their music too.
Sam said this will be what I make of it. I don’t know if I can save you good people. Not from the horrible things that exist in every corner of our existence. Not even from the evil in human hearts. I tell you this though.
There are people who wish to harm you. They wish for bloodshed and madness. They long for pandemonium upon the Earth. If I can’t save you, my will shall grant their wish. I will give them what they want, and they will cry for me to take it back.
I’m going to give them Hell.