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A story by alteredfiction posted on commaful. watch the rest: https://archiveofourown.o...


The devil cannot create, he can only alter creation.

For a period of my life I was alone and content, locked inside my home. Then I wasn't. This made me stressed.

My headphones vibrated into my ears. A loud thumping tune boomed until they were sore. I bobbed my head to it. The song was a real banger.

I fell out of my chair by throwing my head back too hard once so I kept it slow. That wasn't fun. No knots or anything though.

The song ended and the player cycled to the next one when my stomach rumbled. I'd forgotten to eat again. I got up out of my chair and blood rushed to my head. Too fast.

I waited for it to pass then walked into the kitchen. The cold linoleum flooring touched my bare feet, while the next song played. This one was softer and more ambient. I opened the fridge.

A half gallon of milk and a single hotdog frank greeted me.

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