3/30/18 - 2025

Where are we now?

3/30/18 Deadwater

Writer bound on the altar. No I’m not drawing a card for her. I use my horns for divination and they’re tingling with promise. I can feel the bridge of time knitting two worlds together. She has been blinded for several days, left without food for three, and no water since yesterday. All she hears is the voice I put into her head. The voice of Malphas, Hell’s magician, ordering her to bring him home.

I have unfortunately had to sacrifice the Builder, bone and sinew were needed for construction. Blood because I crave it.

At midnight I will light the fire.

---

Heaven

How I ended up here, I do not understand. But I must admit that it is the most refined company I have encountered in ages. I’ve just had the most enlightened discussion on the financial benefits of railroad regulation! Imagine! How very thrilling to be back among people of my social class and standing: people of erudition, intellect, and breeding. The Champagne is simply to die for, if you’ll pardon my uncouth vernacular. I’m playing croquet on the common lawn after supper this afternoon and the game promises to be quite a challenge. I understand the competition is fierce here, but no matter, I am a fine sportsman.

I must say I’d imagined this place to be rather stuffy, but it’s quite a good time. And I’ve seen no sign of that dreadful woman who kept me captive all those years. None of the Writer, either. By all appearances I am a free man being rewarded with splendid food, wine, and company. Why I fought this all these years with the Writer is a mystery. I suppose I was just befuddled by her feminine whiles.

I don’t even think I’ll miss her.

Ah! The bells are tolling, that means new arrivals! How exciting!

---

Deadwater 2025

“Mom?”

That’s the first thing I heard after Azazel set me on fire. After the rushing flames surrounded me.

Mom.

I was standing in a walk in closet staring at nothing, holding a bottle of wine. I turned to find a teenage girl with long, straight, raven black hair staring at me.

“Are you having another episode?” She asked. How could I even know what that meant?

“Who are you?”

She rolled her eyes and spun around, yelling, “She’s doing it again!” As she stomped out.

What? What am I doing again? Where even am I? I have a daughter? Who looks like she could be Mal in teenage-girl disguise? What has Azazel done to me? What am I going to do now?