Yes, yes, I know, this should go on Bríosca Briste, but fuck it, I want people to see this one.
Spare change, madam?
Sir, some spare change? Please sir, just for a hostel for the night.
Just a few coppers sir?
God bless you, madam. God bless your kind heart. Look at it. Look at how it rolls around the rim. Heads, tails, heads, tails...
God bless nothing. There's a reason I've my hood pulled down over my face. If you saw my eyes, you'd scream. Run, call the police. He's feral, something's wrong. But you wouldn't even have the energy for that. If you looked into my eyes, you'd see the things I've seen. Unimaginable horrors. Children feeding on their parents. Monsters with gaping, toothy maws, devouring people who will never die. Charred skeletons still screaming, wailing, roaring to be put out of their misery. The only thing louder than their cries for help are the flames consuming them.
That was the easy part.
There was the other side. Countless numbers of souls deluded. Left to wander an eternal emptiness on their own. Calling out the names of loved ones, even though they know they'll never get a response. All they have is their memories, their emotions. Nothing to distract them. Forever, they will wander through the mist, lost, alone. They can do nothing to stop it. All the while it laughs. It looks on them and it laughs. Sometimes, in a moment of twisted lucidity, it will give them the briefest glimpse of what their heart desires, only to tear it away from them as soon as they see it. Digging deeper into the well of melancholy they sink into without drowning. People say the Devil is evil, but they've never met God.
How do I know all this?
No, I didn't sign any deal. I haven't been to Hell and back. I'm on the guestlist. I played for both teams. It's easier than you'd think. They don't mind who gets who. They have their own little pleasures in store for either one. Good and evil? Doesn't exist. Two sides of the same coin, if you ask me. No, no asking about it. I'm telling you. I've seen it first hand, sure. I watched people see their own hearts being ripped out of their chests and did up the paperwork afterwards. Likewise, I sat there, propping against the armrest, laughing there with it. But they were jealous lovers. They didn't like me playing the field. So both of them decided to have the last laugh on me. Branding me both as their slave, I was thrown out, into limbo, this waking life. It's just a testing ground, see who gets what. All we're living towards - or dying towards, rather - is just what way we get fucked over once we cross over. I once met a priest upstairs who couldn't stop crying once he found out. They get it the worst. They devote their lives wholeheartedly to it. Of course they're initially overjoyed to see their faith rewarded, but once they realise they've no-one to share it with, the gloss quickly comes off. As for the other part, no-one ever deserves what's coming to them. No-one.
So there we have it. Through one eye, I see the gray mist. Through the other, the red fury. That's why I haven't slept since I got here. That's why I don't know what it is to dream.
But when I open both together, I only see what I need to do.
This needs to end - and I'm the one that needs to do it.