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In The Demon Bar

In The Demon Bar

I was standing in the demon bar, when this lapsed catholic came sidling over.

As they tend to be, he was pallid under his sweat. He tugged at his shirt collar and said nervously, "Hot here, isn't it."


I looked at him and wondered if I should eat him, but he seemed stale and bloodless.

There were others, smaller ones, who might like to tear and chew his kind.

Why was he even talking to me?

Oh, oops.

I catch my reflection in a silver vat.

Whenever I drift and fail to pay attention, I turn back into this humanoid form. Old habits, hung up they should be. On a rusty hook somewhere and left to rot. Undercover work does that to a being.

You spend a few decades in full immersion, and just SEE what happens!

I make the adjustment and my shape shifts in response; my tail uncurls and the relaxation at my back informs me that my wings are flexing, relaxing from their downfold hiding posture.

My neck stretches with sweet delight and I shudder with joy and purest pleasure as my skin begins to shine and resonate the deep red glow, the infra red of nourishment that is the hallmark of my home dimension.

Lovingly and lusciously, I lick my lips and flex my jaws a little as the radiance expands with my true eyesight and I turn back to the man, smaller still he is now from this vantage, and what a sight, and what a mess!

There used to be a drawing I remember from my time upon his world, a dirty child engulfed in streaks of dust and buzzing flies - this creature is like that, a host to thousand parasites that buzz and drone and suck and leach off him, disgusting!

Flick, flick.

My view switches back and forth between the limited perception and the wider range, disturbing and yet strangely comforting - at this point, it is soothing have both at my disposal, to help de-transition me from that world into this.

A putrefying cloud of fear, ill smelling green and slimy dense is forming round his midriff, oozes from his armpits and his nose.

This is altogether too unpleasant!

I open my mouth and hiss at him, fast forward striking movement of my head that snaps my neck, a lovely feeling, most familiar, it is tingling, I might fight but no, I call that specific energy to circulate a little, warm me up and make me vibrant, more alive, as the disgraceful creature scrambles, runs and stumbles - to become a feast for many less discerning, for the vermin eaters, soon enough.


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"A visit to Project Sanctuary is simple to do and leaves you marvelling at the wonders to be discovered in your own mind." Margarita Foley

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