~Prologue~

The idea of Hell inspires. It inspires not only me but has inspired and will continue to inspire some of the greatest artists. It inspires great works of art. Poems. Paintings. Novels. The Christians believe Hell is a place of punishment. But why would Lucifer torture those who are in fact similar to him. He rebelled against “God” and was punished. The sinners sent to the “fiery” pits are doing the same things. They are his allies. Then again I’m not Christian. I’m not Jewish. I’m not Muslim. And I’m not Wiccan (though I have studied the religion a bit). Yet, I wouldn’t consider myself an atheist. I would like to believe there is a higher power but it gets hard. So maybe I’m not the best person to say these things. But then again I’m not trying to convince you that my philosophy is the right one. Believe what you want. I don’t give a damn.

     But back to what I was saying before. Hell inspires. If it didn’t why would so many novels have been condemned by religious leaders? Why would books have been banned and burned? These things have been considered too sinful for our eyes. But who are they, the religious leaders and the nut jobs, to judge. As I sit here pondering these things the sun is slowly rising turning the night to day. A new day is on the horizon. Possibly the last day I’ll see. You see, dear readers, I’ve discovered something. I’ve discovered that Hell would indeed be a satisfactory place to be sent to. If the Christians who condemn me would be the ones going to heaven, why would I want to go? I am who I want to be and I’m not going to change for those idiots.

     But because my choices in life don’t meet the criteria (In Christian opinion) to get into heaven, I’m condemned to burn forever and be tortured with whips and chains. I can’t help but laugh as I reflect on all that helped me arrive at this conclusion. The dark journey laced with even darker waysides. Imbrued with blood. Full of passion and hatred. Angst. Pain. Pleasure. Love is the only thing absent from this journey. This story. In the place of love is lust. Sinful pleasure of the flesh. But who really wants love? Love impairs your senses. Love is foolish. And only fools love.

     This isn’t a story about happy people with simple problems that can be solved in a short amount of time. It’s about evil people. Sadistic people. The people you were warned about from an early age. Perverts. Freaks. Masochists. And a plethora of other unsavory characters. From this you may expect the setting to be that of dark alleyways, decrepit buildings, and other seedy and dangerous places where the rejects of society tend to gather. You’d be wrong. If you were to see these people walking down the street you’d never know that they are truly the scum of the earth. People (using the term loosely) that would be spit back out from Christian hell. But then again we all wear our masks don’t we? We hide behind smiles. We pantomime the emotions we know we’re supposed to feel but most of the time we don’t give a damn.

     By now you’re probably overcome with curiosity as to who I am. Asking yourself, who is this faceless narrator? This corrupt individual, saying things that make so much sense yet go against what us good, moral ones were taught from birth? Well, it doesn’t matter who I am. Whether I’m male or female. Young or impossibly old. Nor does my sexuality matter. In fact I may never tell you. I might chose to let you use your feeble minds to draw some conclusion which may or may not be right. What matter’s is my story and telling you things like my name would just personalize it. I don’t want you to think of me as a person. I’ll admit the power I hold by writing this is intoxicating. I’m basically God. Able to control the events of the past. Make them how I want them. Make a happy ending if I so desire. Kill off people I don’t like in brutal ways. Keep people I approved of alive. I could change the whole story and you wouldn’t know because I highly doubt anyone reading this was present during any of these events. No, those who pick up this will be nothing like the one’s described here, will they? They’ll be respectable. Simply looking for something to entertain them and impress them. But no matter how different you think you are from the people written about here, you’re wrong. You’re the same. You go through life playing a role. Donning many masks and costumes in your life. There is a difference how ever. Us, sinners, eventually gave up the costumes and stood before you bare. We were ourselves and did what we wanted. Whether what we did was wrong is open for discussion but at least we were willing. You’ll go through your lives never tasting the sweet pleasure of a life full of dissent and unabashed sin. The apple is sweeter than you will ever know. Then you will ever have the courage to know. It seems a simplistic thing to do. Taste the juicy fruit of the apple, shed your costume, and live life as it should be. But in truth it’s one of the hardest things to do. Society forces us to conform. We’re to never break a taboo. Never go against the norm. Be exactly the same as the person next to you. Do all this and you’ll have lived the perfect mundane life. And die the perfect mundane death.

     By now those of you smart enough, have realized I just contradicted myself. Earlier I said you would never know who these “people” were and here I’m saying we’ve done away with our masks. We have. You’re just not bright enough to realize it. When we smile you assume. You assume you know why. But you don’t. You think the smile is an extension of kindness or a remembrance of some earlier joy. It is the remembrance of some earlier joy, though you wouldn’t consider it joy. You’d consider it sick. Twisted and disturbed. But that smile is also a reaction to the depraved thoughts running through that persons head. And the beauty of it is you never know what the depraved thoughts involve. It amuses me how quickly my smile with be returned by a perfect stranger when all I’m really thinking about is how lovely that person would look on bed of silk, surrounded by wood and eventually dirt with the worms burrowing their way through the slowly decomposing flesh.

     Oh, sick isn’t it? Yet you’re still reading. And I know why. It’s intriguing. Appealing to your darkest desires. Your immoral thoughts that you keep repressed. Locked away from the rest of the world. The desires you refuse to acknowledge. But I know. I know exactly who you are. I may have never met you but I know you. You’ll read on. Feign repugnance. Shake your head and wonder where such a person as me could have come from. Yet, on the inside. In your “heart of hearts”, to coin an awfully cheesy phrase, you wish you could meet me. My words appeal to you. Make your heart beat faster in the hollow cave of your chest. Make your pulse quicken. Shudders roll through you spine. For I am in fact everything you’ve ever wanted. I’m everything forbidden to you. Something you yearn for. Something you could never have because you restrain yourself. People like you make me want to vomit. But even as I tell you how sick you make me you’re going to keep reading because as I stated before my words appeal to you. Hopefully when you’re done reading you’ll take this as your Bible. Use my words to guide you. Live by my example. Worship me as your God if you want. I’m much more interesting than any of the others anyway.