I am the source of all evil and chaos. The humans despise me, well most do. They dream of accomplishing great things, with no end in sight, they aimlessly cling to the resources of the earth. Without much realization, they were already being manipulated by the wrong, by me.
Now more than half of the earth's population has diminished back into the now barren soil. Critters would lurk after the humans. Humans were now the ultimate prey against the newly evolved animals. The humans had squeezed too tight to the useless rocks of the earth, and everything fell apart one day. Not that any of this concerns me, except that it wasn't my darkness that caused the apocalypse. It was the humans themselves, it was like planetary suicide.
Now I, the Devil, am cursed with the heavy load of incoming tainted souls. Many humans were amazed when they found out that hell was not a hell, but the worst kind of hell. The rocks were constantly burning so hot that the souls of the hopeless would get blisters. Eternal blisters.
The fires were fueled by the blood of the sinners, but the sinners only received pain, not the death they so desired. They already had died, but I knew what they were thinking, "kill me."
Men and women, even some children stared at me with their empty eyes, and any pride they once had in the world of the living had been emaciated from their slump bodies, and scorched by the burning hell of death.
The scent of death covered the corpses of the restless sleepers, they slept in the fire, screaming in pain, never becoming accustomed to the life they chose. People would pile up on top of each other squashing the bones of the non-breathing at the bottom.
Most were like this, but there were a few who would mutter empty words in a corner about the luxury they once had, and the food and riches that they desired.
The men would mutter hateful slurs towards me and my establishment. None of it would reach my horn covered face, I was the devil, I am hate. They are only intoxicated to a degree of what I am. Many would repeat the same routine every earth day. They didn't care any more, supposedly, but if I were to give them a speck of bread color would flood their contempt eyes and bring hope to the crowd.
Then, there would possibly be some type of rebellion in them towards me, and the last thing I wanted to do was give them more obliterating death. The stench was already horrid enough for my own nose.
I just wish I could be loved, yet I will always be the source of all demonic hatred.