Thoughts of Satan

1

The snow glittered across the forest, making everything look stark and vulnerable. The twinkling stars winked across the sky, enchanting each other, and the mystic moon shone down upon the heads of those lucky enough to see this magnificent site. Yet, few risk the unknown dangers of the night and dare to venture out from their comfy little dens to see anything like this, they much prefer safety over wonder. Which is why a certain figure was content with gazing out over this rare and magical landscape, where no one could see his haunted face. 2

He wore no shirt, even though the biting cold should have set in by now. The tattoos that were permanently embedded into his skin swirled beautifully, and you could find yourself tracing them forever. His pants were tattered and worn, but he didn't care. Where he came from, clothes are nothing. He closed his crimson eyes and relished the sting when another frigid breeze blew over him, making his black hair, streaked with gold lift behind him. Tilting his head to look at the starry blanket laid out above him, he wondered how he could have ever forgotten about the dark wonders. He unfurled his black angel wings and regarded them with venom. This is the reason I am haunted. This is the reason I am hated, he thought.3

He laughed at the thought. A harsh, bitter sound, it was scarred with thousands of years of pain. He was created thousands of years ago, made to be a monster in the eyes of so many, just so a select one could look like a savior. He hissed at the mere thought of that man and covered his face in his long, bony hands. He wasn't supposed to be here, in the mortal world, but what did he care? It's not like anybody could kill him. 'I am Immortal' he thought. When he first heard those words, so many years ago, he was elated. He could live, forever young. But now, he just wished it could end. To many, he was the very embodiment of evil. To himself, he was just a lost soul. Some even looked up at him like a God, and how he hated that. He didn't want to be anything like the man who turned him into this...abomination. 4

He was Satan himself, but he didn't understand why people hated him so. Of course, he heard all the rumors about torture and prostitution that he took part in, but none of it was true. It was always God this, God that, pray to god or else The Devil will drag you down to Hell. He snorted. His curving horns caught the moonlight, and he glanced down at his reflection in the pool he was standing on. Walking on water wasn't a good way to show that he wasn't different, wasn't...what? He didn't know for sure. His hearing caught a bunch of Devil obsessed Goths chanting about how one day the world will end. He was tired of this, oh so tired. 'Of course, this world is very beautiful...but I'm sure His Mightiness will smite me if I try.' Satan's thoughts dripped with sarcasm. He would gladly give up Hell, and the ruling of the Underworld just for a mortal life and body. In reality, God was a lot worse than him. But everybody didn't see him that way, oh no.5

Standing still on that beautiful night, he caught sense of somebody standing on the water's edge. He started and turned abruptly. Satan regarded the boy carefully, as if he was something dangerous, but his eyes, those eyes that were clouded by all the terrible things he had seen over the years, widened as he saw the boy's sickly yellow skin, frail body and shuddering muscles. He smelled distinctly of death. The boy just continued to watch him, not afraid like all the others, but..welcoming, almost. The Devil could see the poor child was in pain as he stepped onto the the bank. Some sickness had caught him, it was tormenting him, but not letting him free of this place. Satan felt a twinge of sympathy deep within, but before he could do anything, the child spoke.6

'Are you Hell's Angel?' his eyes were searching, looking for something. The Devil decided he would do some good for this world and nodded. The boy smiled and took a step forward. 'I've been waiting.'7

Satan smiled, and opened his arms for the poor child. The boy, now smiled wider and walked into his waiting arms, openly embracing the end. For once in years, Satan's eyes were clear.