My ducks were never in a row

My ducks were never in a row devil stories

blondee Community member
Autoplay OFF   •   7 months ago
Words that just kinda happened.

My ducks were never in a row

I'm not sure why, but I have never been a big church-goer. It's not that I believe one thing or another.. I'm just not sure. I'm sure you can understand why.

One thing I've been absolutely sure of though, is the fact that there is, what most people call, the Devil.

I don't want to offend any opinions by anything I say, so please forgive me if I do.

But, anyway. I know there is. I've seen him, or some strange form of him, many times.

I've seen demons within the eyes of people that I love. I've seen them completely take over a person and it's not something I want to dive to deep into, because, fuck. No.

But look, all of these fucked up experiences with meeting the Devil, not once, did I experience something like this.

I've come to the conclusion, that before, those must have been only demons or something fucked up like that.

Because, if the Devil himself is going to waste his time on Earth, he's probably gonna go hard before he goes home right?

Lucky me. I just happened to be the motherfucker that crossed his path on the wrong day, in the worst place, and very much at the wrong time.

I have felt it every single day. His presence. Like he's nothing but a dark shadow, standing behind me or over my shoulder whispering in my ear.

The Devil isn't what most immediately think. Why not? ....Why do you think? What the fuck are the Devil's intentions? Anyone?

He wants nothing more than to rip you apart only to put you back together and do it all over again. Well maybe not you, but, definitely me.

He's smart. He's quick witted. Very clever.

He knows my strengths, or lack thereof at this point, and he knows exactly what to say to lure me in.

Every time, everyday, I tell myself, "No, you won't let him get you today. Not this time. You fucking got this now."

And you know what? I really start to believe myself for a minute.

Every fucking word that rolls off his tongue is like a little slice of perfection.

I'll start telling myself lies, like, wow maybe he really does have a heart. Or a soul.


I spend so many hours trying to free myself from the darkness that has latched on, and then I can see it working. I'm feeling better. I'm feeling strong. I'm finally feeling confident.

I won't let him ruin this bliss.

Think again.

He will let you wear that feeling. For as long as he thinks necessary. Unlike me, he has patience. He doesn't care how long it takes, as long as he can hurt me.

I feel like he's trying to suck my soul from me, leaving me as nothing more than an empty shell.

He knows his shit.

He broke me down again. I haven't been in a mood so good in weeks, maybe months. And he didn't like that.

I promised myself and reassured myself, but his poison is much too strong, and it started to seep through my pours as he breathed his hot breathe on my neck.

It took over my body, and started taking over my mind. That good mood is now a distant memory. I see nothing but grey around me and I feel empty again.

He still wants to hurt me. He fucking taunts me too, if he didn't get enough the first time or twelve.

Says things that he knows will make me worry or feel anxious about. Then what? You guessed it. He starts his fucking shit again. Trying to make me feel like I matter. Like he loves me.

I resist for so long but I always seem to break down again. In one way or another.

I'm sitting alone now, against a wall in my bedroom. My legs are pulled up to my chest, and I have my arms wrapped around my legs.

I'm trying to be strong, trying not to cry, because it only pleases him that much more, and I open my eyes. I look around the room, dimly lit wondering if he's near.

The darkness consumes my room within seconds and his voice is echoing loudly. He laughs at me and at this point I know he can hear my thoughts.

Which only scares me further, and initially leads to his sick pleasures being maximized.

I want to fucking run and hide. Go anywhere safe. But it's useless. He will find me no matter where I go.

Like I said, that darkness has found a way to always be there. Even when he's gone (which never lasts long) , I still feel him there.

Imagine him as a silhouette made of dark smoke, and nothing more. Well when he goes away, there are parts of my body that almost look like they're on fire.

Little clouds of smoke that just hover in one or two spots, like a piece of him stuck around.

I can't get rid of it. Any of it. Or him.

He wants to hurt me. He told me so. He didn't like my confidence yesterday, I guess. Although he claims otherwise. (At least at this moment in time.)

He makes me feel like I owe him this. I deserve the things that he's doing, and he acts like I should feel grateful for him.

He's always correcting the way I say things. Even though it's for no reason! I know I say some stupid shit sometimes but he fucking makes me feel like a moron.

And sits there and rubs it the fuck this point I begin begging for salt in the wounds as a replacement...because the pain is nearly unbearable.

I thought I could warm his heart, help him, something...

Well I was wrong.

So instead.

I sit here, unbothered by his presence (briefly,) but already feeling regretful about it, and praying that I'm not making him angry.

It is impossible to love someone that is without a soul. I want to so badly, of course. But the dark art that he practices is far beyond my comprehension.

And I'm running out of life.

He's draining the blood from my body, quickly. Just as I start to completely fade out, my life is somehow revived, things start to form behind my blurred vision and I hear a sweet whisper.

It's telling me that I must go on, I have to continue, and not to give up. The voice loves me. I feel it. My eyes are starting to focus and I look around.

His black, soulless eyes pierce through me just before he fades out of sight. So quickly that it forces me to question whether or not he was really there.

I'm alone again. I'm alive. And I can breathe. It feels good to breathe. I let the air fill my lungs and let go, feeling at ease, finally.

Was it only a dream? I pull the heaviness of my body from the ground and head to the kitchen to replenish my body with some water.

Water. Yes, I need that.

I hum to myself as I move across the house. The lights are dim and the house feels cold. The silence is fucking deafening.

Just as I turn the corner I hear it once more...calling out for me. His sick laughter starts to fill the air around me. I can hear him in every direction and I have nowhere to turn.

I taste the wet salt on my tongue as I make a failed attempt to not cry.

"Oh you poor thing, let me take care of you. There, there." His voice sounds beautiful. It almost doesn't even matter what he says. He makes me want to believe him.

His sinister ways make me want to help him, so badly. I look toward him as he whispers to me.

He looks at me with eyes of gold, and my body goes weak again.

I fucking give in. I crawl into his arms and he holds me tight, rocking me back and forth. He sings a familiar song and I melt into his perfection.

I feel safe again and happy. I'm making him happy. I knew I could. I knew it.

My eyelids are getting heavier by the second. But then, faster than I could blink, I feel something change. The warmth is gone. I don't feel protected anymore. I feel cold. Freezing, actually.

My eyes open wide and I can't seem to swallow.

I look up at him, praying to the God I was once so unsure of, that the good was still in there somewhere.

He slowly starts to grin and the gold in his eyes shifts again. Black, cold, distant, and without a trace of soul.

"Are you feeling strong today?"

I try to swallow but the lump in my throat is too dry.

Fuck. No, no, no. Please don't do this again.

"Should I be feeling strong?"

I'm still searching his eyes, trying to be strong, but knowing otherwise.

His grin grows bigger and my world turns black.

And I'm gone again, just like that.

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