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Too long have I been terrified and paranoid of things I do not understand. Hell has a means of being horrific. I know that better than any man alive, and I have for a year. Recently, though, Hell has returned. It is back. I was checking my computer to start the day when I noticed I had a message. I've lived as a shut-in for a long time. I moved out of my old neighborhood and I don't take any packages; I only ever leave the house to go shopping. I don't know anybody that would message me to talk, but with this case in particular I felt a temptation to open and read it, one that I could not overcome.

My fear was quickly provoked. All my paranoia, my borderline schizophrenic behavior, it was all there to expect this one message. I couldn't resist it, though. I had to see it.

"Dear Jacques, it has been a long time since our last encounter. Despite your best efforts, you have still spread my works. You still instill fear in those around you, and as you only now realize, fear is my truest power."

I wanted to scroll down. I needed to see it, but my computer turned off. Out of the CD port came a dollar bill missing the insignias. I looked closer at it, though, and I saw my own face. My computer turned itself back on, my default background had changed to a picture of my old house. Most of my files were gone, but the letter was still there and opened itself.

"Need more? I can do a lot more. You have done a lot of my work for me. I'm coming over to give you a reward. Besides that, you should have something to eat. Take this and eat of it."

One of the dressers in my computer desk opened, and in it was a bowl of soup with a spoon in it. I had to taste it. I didn't want to try it, I tried to walk away but I couldn't. I lost control of my body. My legs walked to the soup. My hands reached down and lifted the spoon to my mouth. My mouth opened and my throat swallowed. It tasted spectacular, however. I regained control of my self, and now I went to eat it by my own will. It was the best food I had ever eaten, and soon it was gone. I continued reading the letter.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. It took many people to make it taste that well. I am soon to be there to greet you. See you soon, Jacques. From: Hell."

My hands shook. Cold sweat covered me. The light bulb in the room began to crack, water dripping through. The door was gone, and the windows with it. The room began to get dark. The computer shut down, and it became completely black. I heard a couple of footsteps around me, and I wanted to scream but I couldn't. Then, the room was lit up again, now with a crimson-cloaked figure in front of me. Candles surrounded him and covered the room around us.

"People always misunderstand me." The cloaked figure turned to me. His face was wrinkled and old, his skin lacking complexion. His eyes were misshapen and one side of his face hung lower than the other. His mouth barely moved as he spoke. "They don't understand why I do the things I do. People don't understand that I hardly do anything at all. Every genocide, every famine, every article about bombings or drownings. I did none of that. That is not my work. You all have made war for me. You have destabilized the globe and turned a blind eye to misery and suffering."

The candles around him began to levitate and spin around him as he spoke. With every word he said, he made more and more sense to me. I began to listen less out of fear of consequence and more to listen. He stuck out one of his hands, similar to his face in lack of complexion and wrinkles, and he pointed at me. The candles began to go out.

"Now he bows in front of me, swearing he will live by my code. Swearing he will join me in Hell. You all will come to fear him, and you all will come to fear me. I say you all for a reason. One may question the legitimacy of his claims, so I tell you this. I say this because I know he will share this story. He has no choice."

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