The Satanic Curses – Violence.

What goes around comes around.

I can feel him. This is not someone walking over my grave; this is someone jumping up and down upon it, taking a piss on it and then bouncing around the edge of the gravestone while mocking my corpse. The hairs on the back of my neck tingle and stand on end. More erect than a horny group of teenage boys at a strip club. I am being hunted.

There is something unnatural about my pursuer. I hesitate to use the phrase supernatural, but that is how it feels. I threw a brick at him as he chased me here, but he just continued walking. It bounced from him as if he were a wall. Who… What is following me? And why? I have no memories.

I feel it before I see it. An injury to my leg as my kneecap shatters as the pipe connects. He came out of nowhere! I can feel the pain exploding from my knee up and down my leg and detonating in my brain. He has got me; I am caught. I try to crawl away, but every movement feels like torture. The chance to move, to scuttle away, is soon taken from me as he slams the metal pipe down on my other leg. I’d like to say the pain was easier to handle than the first hit, but that would be a lie. If the first hit was the eruption of the volcano of pain, this was the secondary burst. Maybe not as spectacular as the first, but you sure as shit wouldn’t want to be near it.

He leers over me, enjoying what he has done. Rolling a dollop of phlegm in his mouth, he spits it out. It lands on my back; there is nothing I can do about it. I am alone; I am unarmed, and I am incapacitated.

I thought it was over when the pipe struck my legs. I was wrong.

He slams his foot down on my wrist, I should have seen it coming, but every neuron in my head is screaming in pain. He pins my hand and starts singing about piggies going to market. I feel the bones in my fingers burst into a million pieces as he slams the pipe down. The flesh splitting, the splintering bone pushing through and breaking free. He laughs as he does this. I scream, he laughs. What kind of sick, twisted bastard is this!

He smashes the pipe into my sides, into my ribs. I instinctively raise my arms, and he then hits my crippled hand. The pain rockets, you think it has hit the peak, but then it finds another level. Not just raised to eleven, this dial doesn’t seem to end. The pain suddenly switches off; like a trip switch being tripped, it goes from unbearable to nothing.

Is this the end? I hear my ribs cracking as he swings the pipe. Do I really hear it, or is it in my imagination? I don’t know. Crack, clap, crackle, snap and pop. I listen to it all; I feel it all, the smashing into my sides, but the pain, the pain has stopped.

It is then that I see it. Standing in the corner and watching everything. Six foot dressed in a long black coat, you’d think it was human, but the two black horns on its head with smoke rising from them tells you that it is something else. I am trapped in a nightmare. It can see me looking, and it smiles as it pulls a packet of cigarettes from its pocket and lights one.

I can hear and feel my heart beating in my neck; it is slowing. I am dying here on the floor alone; I hear the man in black talking to the other. It puts its hand on the other man’s shoulder, my attacker’s shoulder. “Revenge feels good, doesn’t it? That piece of shit killed you, and now you have had revenge. Do you want another go?” The man nods. The last thing I remember before the world goes dark is the memory of being executed. Sentenced to death for a string of killings. This is my hell; this is his heaven. I am doomed to live it forever.


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