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Possession

Thursday March 18, 2010

You’re Satan’s confessor. Write his first confession in a thousand years.

“I love him.”  Three words strung together on a line, followed by silence.  Nothing more than that and yet the force of those words ricochet between my ribs .  I can feel them caught and crashing, eager for escape.

I don’t know why they chose me for this job.   Satan wants to make confession and they choose me?  I just got here, I barely even know the lines.  In fact, he started talking before I could even got my welcome line out.

“Quiet.”

Five letters bellow around the room, consuming all the empty spaces.  Commanding.  There is nothing else, but to obey.  I do.

“I loved him.  From the beginning.  From the very start.  While all the other angels praised and admired, I craved.  Wanted.  I still do, even from here.”

There is nothing in this room but the words he doesn’t even seem to speak.  The words are not heard, but born within my own body.  I can feel them awakening beneath my skin.  The need suddenly my own.  Close and visceral.  My collar is suddenly too tight, but loosing the button beneath the black band does nothing to ease the pressure that is building.

“No power is larger than this.  Nothing can stop it.  Possession.  I want Him for my own.  Mine.”

That last word searing through my brain.  Mine, mine, mine.  I’m losing focus.  The words blur together and leave only the pulsing emptiness behind.  There is more, I can tell that, but this is all I can absorb.  My body cannot hold it.  The need collapsing me somehow from within.

The guards watch as another set of vestments catch a current from the vent, billowing upwards before falling into the chair.


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