Flames of Hatred I
August 10, 2004
by: Silver Nightingale

Blood. I want to feel your blood flowing on my hands. I want to feel your blood against my skin, to hear your blood drip from there down the cold marble floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. Such a sweet calming sound. It soothes my heart and soul.

Haste. My heartbeat quickens it pace. I am thrilled at the idea of your death, of your torture, of your demise. I want to hear you cry, I want to hear you beg for death to come. I want to drag you down my chamber of hurt and keep you there for all eternity. Forever I shall hear you scream in agony. Such a peaceful sound, very pleasing to the ears.

Frost. That's what my heart feels. That's what it feels as long as you still live. Cold is my heart as long as I still see you breathe. You must not be afraid, though, for it is you who made me this way. You made my heart harden, you made my heart frozen, you made my heart numb. I shall give you what you deserve; you see, I never punish just for the sake of punishing. I punish for the sake of justice, my own version of justice. And frankly, I enjoy punishing mortals for they are mere obstacles in this world, obstacles that need to be shattered to oblivion.

Yes, you shall have your time of punishment. For now, continue to mock humanity and I shall stay silent amidst your proud laughter. But tomorrow you shall be engulfed by the shadows of your demons as they feast on you and I shall be the one laughing to my heart's content. Call me a sadist but then again, aren't we all?

"Everyone has their limitation..."