Not like there used to be.
I couldn’t help but turn away from him as quickly as I had looked at him and made my way to my dressing room where my demonic hair dressers and make-up artists were surely waiting for me. I still remembered what it was like to have my soul even though it had been so long since I had had it. It was warm and comforting, unlike now where I was always cold and unyielding, but I still felt sorrow over what I was missing. I guess that was the point of the scar and the feelings of emptiness that followed its retrieval. The devil really wanted you to realize what you had done and wanted you to miss that part of yourself. That was the true hell. Not the one depicted in the Bible or Dante’s Inferno. It was the feeling of loss and hollowness that you were left with once your soul was gone.
I remembered the exact moment that my soul had been snatched from within me like it was yesterday. I had signed my contract without realizing what I was getting myself into. Without even understanding that my thirst for fame wouldn’t have me up on stage in front of the people I really wanted to entertain with my music, but in front of the demonic hoard that I was forced to amuse because I felt I could sell my soul that was given to me without consequence.
I had just finished signing my contract in my own blood and the devil was before me. He wasn’t what people thought he would be. He was tall, dark and attractive. Beautiful you could say. His features were angular and strong and you couldn’t help but look into his black and hollow eyes and feel something for him. I guess that was part of the allure. Once the signature was on the dotted line and I released my last breath, he reached his cold hand into my chest and an intense light poured from around his fingers as he grabbed my humanity. The feeling of being about so suffocate was overwhelming and as he gripped my soul with all his might the pain had me releasing an involuntary scream. As soon as he pulled his hand back, my soul in his hand and writhing to be free, the pain was gone and the empty feeling had taken its place. I was launched right on stage in front of a crowd of demons who wanted nothing more than to cause strife for what I used to be. Someone with a soul.
I would no longer breathe, no longer sleep, and would no longer feel the need to eat or drink. All I felt was nothing but the sadness and the sheer emptiness of myself. Even though I didn’t have to breathe, the reflex to do so was always one I gave into. It helped me feel somewhat alive. My first night in front of this crowd was the night I realized with terror what I had truly done and that the fame I had truly wanted wasn’t what I was going to get. I sold my soul for the music, and I only had myself to blame. I got what I had wanted. Just not the way I thought I would have it. I pictured a crowed of human beings, their beautiful faces not distorted by the darkness within them and sighed.
No matter where I was I could feel eyes watching over me and while I walked to my dressing room where I had everything I had ever wanted in life those eyes on me made me weary. Always had. As if the torture I was about to face at the hands of the demons that were there to make me look amazing wasn’t enough. The constant washing my face and putting on make-up and pulling at my hair to style it was torture in and of itself. It never stopped and I wasn’t given a single moment to myself. At this point that was what I had craved the most beside my body’s former resident.
The red of the hallway surrounding me was dark and deep, like the blood which no longer flowed through my veins. It now left blackish purple streaks under my skin from where the blood had stopped flowing. My blood was dead and I knew there was a way to restore life to my dead
I couldn’t help but turn away from him as quickly as I had looked at him and made my way to my dressing room where my demonic hair dressers and make-up artists were surely waiting for me. I still remembered what it was like to have my soul even though it had been so long since I had had it. It was warm and comforting, unlike now where I was always cold and unyielding, but I still felt sorrow over what I was missing. I guess that was the point of the scar and the feelings of emptiness that followed its retrieval. The devil really wanted you to realize what you had done and wanted you to miss that part of yourself. That was the true hell. Not the one depicted in the Bible or Dante’s Inferno. It was the feeling of loss and hollowness that you were left with once your soul was gone.
I remembered the exact moment that my soul had been snatched from within me like it was yesterday. I had signed my contract without realizing what I was getting myself into. Without even understanding that my thirst for fame wouldn’t have me up on stage in front of the people I really wanted to entertain with my music, but in front of the demonic hoard that I was forced to amuse because I felt I could sell my soul that was given to me without consequence.
I had just finished signing my contract in my own blood and the devil was before me. He wasn’t what people thought he would be. He was tall, dark and attractive. Beautiful you could say. His features were angular and strong and you couldn’t help but look into his black and hollow eyes and feel something for him. I guess that was part of the allure. Once the signature was on the dotted line and I released my last breath, he reached his cold hand into my chest and an intense light poured from around his fingers as he grabbed my humanity. The feeling of being about so suffocate was overwhelming and as he gripped my soul with all his might the pain had me releasing an involuntary scream. As soon as he pulled his hand back, my soul in his hand and writhing to be free, the pain was gone and the empty feeling had taken its place. I was launched right on stage in front of a crowd of demons who wanted nothing more than to cause strife for what I used to be. Someone with a soul.
I would no longer breathe, no longer sleep, and would no longer feel the need to eat or drink. All I felt was nothing but the sadness and the sheer emptiness of myself. Even though I didn’t have to breathe, the reflex to do so was always one I gave into. It helped me feel somewhat alive. My first night in front of this crowd was the night I realized with terror what I had truly done and that the fame I had truly wanted wasn’t what I was going to get. I sold my soul for the music, and I only had myself to blame. I got what I had wanted. Just not the way I thought I would have it. I pictured a crowed of human beings, their beautiful faces not distorted by the darkness within them and sighed.
No matter where I was I could feel eyes watching over me and while I walked to my dressing room where I had everything I had ever wanted in life those eyes on me made me weary. Always had. As if the torture I was about to face at the hands of the demons that were there to make me look amazing wasn’t enough. The constant washing my face and putting on make-up and pulling at my hair to style it was torture in and of itself. It never stopped and I wasn’t given a single moment to myself. At this point that was what I had craved the most beside my body’s former resident.
The red of the hallway surrounding me was dark and deep, like the blood which no longer flowed through my veins. It now left blackish purple streaks under my skin from where the blood had stopped flowing. My blood was dead and I knew there was a way to restore life to my dead
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