The dead are easy; it’s the living that are a bitch

Down here, our power is absolute. The fires that caress us burn and char the damned. A word from our lips causes them pain. Our claws and our teeth and our pitchforks can come and go through their flesh as pleases us. We cut them to ribbons of blackened meat and slivers of bone and when they heal we begin our fun anew.

Up there, the rules are different. The balance between heaven and hell is maintained by ancient custom. No force or trickery can be used: they have to give over willingly, they have to choose damnation.

It’s annoying.

***
Title by: CJS
Story by: David

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