Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-26235915-20150323103302

''Note: So this is my first pasta. Horror is somewhat hard to make, I'm kind of new to writing horror stories, so don't expect too much, I'm just starting. Well, here it goes:''

''Post Script: I had to make this, it was just an urge to, it always was.. And so the plot is kind of weird, I kind of think it was a cliché somehow or it will be Dogscape; the intro may be a kind of long, the middle has gone far yet to reach ...''



He was perfect.

Just perfect, that's all. Not like what you always see in Hallow's Eve: a man whose skin is red, with large, red horns and that long, pointy tail; finished with a malicious, evil grin that gives you the worst of dread- was he like that? No! But he was an angel, the ones that were the closest to God. Many, almost all, adored him; no one can ever resist the face that was filled with nothing but beauty and light- regret waits for those who doesn't. And that light: it was the light that fills every corner of darkness and the loght that can warm each heart- except his. His heart was pure: purely made with dark, the dark that was never filled with light ever since he was him, and yet for him it felt like it was not enough.

No one really knows what's inside: If it was a havock of madness and confusion, or a flood of dread mixed with the true form of fear- but it was something much more worse- it was Satan himself.

Why was he perfect? You'll see it: His warm, caring, seducing eyes, those decayed wings with feathers grown darker than black, he's what we call a true fallen angel. How could Lucifer turn to Satan? Why and How? Power. He wants to have it so then he'll have it- to rule the world he created for his sins. He just started with nothing; below the Earth, on the mantle. Yet he urged to live in there- and then for so long, he grinned: the deadly one. He created what is now called Hell: named and made out of man and God, and he was happy. Humans sin, all the time, it was his power to make it: because he gets his power from it. He used it- he made fire, and he made more sins. The lake, the eternal acid lake- was one of his best pleasures. He created rocks, he created gates: one in each level.

Those levels, there were seven of them: the higher the level is, the deeper you go into Hell and the core. As each level gets deeper, it gets more worse, slitting throats and hanging then after, stabbing with acid, twisting the heads so they'll get decapitated, the screams would rip their throats out even before they get killed- it's better. The seventh and last level isn't what you see, read and think: you'll become a demon. Actually all levels end with a demon, but being a high priest or priestess will be much more better: you won't get harmed, you won't get killed, you'll be nothing. Nothing. Your soul will be incinerated, like cremated. Ashes will be thrown all over the core and you'll be dead: thrice, but for him it still wasn't enough. All of this, all of what he sees, wasn't really enough. He needs more. More sins. More power.

And because he wanted so: he got it so. He killed them, humans. He possessed them, and got their souls. He possessed them with every might, and no one could and can stop him. He had minions: the demons that were created by the souls of those who sinned. They act as the devil as they possess and kill one by one, in each country and state: they were like their father; they were the children. They, altogether, were powerful. Ruling underground eternally, killing the lost souls that thought they were pure as they pass through each level. Seeing all those demons that were created all throughout the days of Hell, you thought they could just stay there. He sent them: not only to possess and kill, but to have each and every one a human to watch to. Why? They watch them: each and every sin they make- and they count it. And when those humans die, they count dying as a sin- and then it ends by throwing the humans down to Hell, onto the vicious "Lake of Fire".

Hell was perfect as Satan had been, the demons had never been so excited- there was never even anything exciting. Some possess and kill, some count sins, some stand at a corner behind; motionless and faceless, and screams. Some look at souls, staring; Hell was one of a kind. Spirits, ghosts, whatever humans call them, they will always fall onto Hell and die, with nothing to spare. They become soulless, even if they are souls. Never will they be conscious, never will awake from nothing, and they will turn to them: demonic souls, spirits that were possessed by other demons, no matter who they are. And still, Satan, was never satisfied. He wanted more, more power. The paranoia, the dread, shock, whatever those humans feel, it was insignificant for him. He wanted to control the world; all worlds, not what just he owned- he wanted Earth. And there he was, laughing, grinning, smiling, the sound of chains clanking as the echos move them; the abyss was too small for him- he kept laughing.

And there he was, the old, ancient dragon: he looked like he was there since the world was made, also because his scales look fragile, but it was strong was it could ever be. He evolved. He has changed. Not what you have seen. He started as an angel, falling into the skies from deep down; those black wings can never be better. His seducing eyes, so beautiful that it gives terror to everyone who saw it. The light, the one that he has, it was so bright, and inside- it was pure, so pure, made with pure dark. He is just perfect, that's all.

He was perfect.

Now he's chained up. And he'll be waiting. 