The Beauty of a Demon; Exposé

The demons are cheating us. Well, I believe they open our eyes. They are plucking us from dogmatism and try to turn us to the many layers of reality. As if they were telling us – do not limit yourself to one truth, when there are many truths in the world. I remember when I said these things to my grandmother. Of course, she didn’t believe it. She believed in the One Truth which were brought by the Savior. I remember her house filled with various religious sculptures and crosses. I remember that I often sat in front of them, engrossed, studying their saintly expression. I wondered if they knew about the existence of different versions of the truth? Probably not, since the grandmother believed them. Poor old woman, that’s the only person I felt the pity of pity while she was burning. Um, she could keep her mouth shut, that’s why I sacrificed her.

Often, she would tell me that I am beautiful. That’s why I’m sorry. It’s the only person from I’ve ever heard such things. As a fallen angel, I believed that I was the most beautiful of all, just like The Book says. People were not of the same opinion. That’s why they ended up in a poorer place than this. I know where I will end – the more victims for the Creator, the more I approach the Eternal Source.

Someone is knocking. These are new victims, I barely lured them to come. I said them that I was feeling ill and that I need help. Les Miserables! They are fooled so easily. My weapon is fire, but before that, I will torture them. I’ll put them in front of the mirror, I want to watch them lose their youth and beauty. Piece by piece. Perhaps then, so peeled of and naked, they will realize how miserable they are actually.

“Hello, Todd. Hello, Mary. Please, come in.”

They are getting in and falling into the unconscious immediately. I smelled the entire room with poison. It’s good to act right now so I don’t have to talk to them.

I am getting to my work immediately. I take them from the floor and put them on the chairs. I tie them up and I wait for a moment to wake up. This enjoyment lasts for hours. They are crying, screaming, and they are lost, scared, unbridled. I’m powerful. I’m the one who is judging them.

I’m watching their dead bodies. Deflected from burns and whips. In addition to them, I see my beauty in the mirror. How beautiful I am. The fallen angel – most beautiful of them all.


~ Zorica ~


The Art of Joey Havlock