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SatanSpace fan Spar10 wrote these cool stories about Satanah in his vision of a sort of "future" Hell. Thank you Spar10!

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Avoiding the first demonic slick was easy. They smell.

Get caught in one though and even my shimmer would be corrupted. Though not to the crippling extent of a lesser one. Demonic slicks are so obvious and clumsy.

But there are three sets of six.

Someone or some “thing” is attempting to invoke an ancient name in a vain attempt to gain control over me.

Amusing.

None exist that know my true name.

Even then they would be dead before it would be of any use to them.

Seeker splines flick past my ear so close I can hear the screams of the souls that are being tapped to empower them. It is like the sound of the scraping together of dusty insect husks within the depths of a crystalline nautilus: whisper quiet and a thousand fathoms down.

They bury themselves into a 2,500 year old oak, injecting their torment in and venting coherent life energy out the exposed ends so quick that, with the “crack” of a sonic boom, the trunk implodes into a violent cloud of lifeless dust so cold that surrounding vegetation withers where it lands.

Coming out of a dive roll I catch sight of dripping ether that has pooled at the base of another tree. I watch as a field mouse scurries through what to it is an unseen mass. It dies, twitching, as its tiny life force is overpowered and sucked dry.

Now it is clear.

I am actively hunted.

Interesting.

It is a Plasmatic Phreak, the offspring of a Split Aura and a Lich: Quick as thought and highly toxic.

Its “ear” holes bristle with newly grown seeker splines like a fur of fungus growing in the cavity of a carcass.

I disperse my essence, drifting along the chill night air flowing down and around objects and obstacles unhindered by form and substance. I even infuse into and out of solid matter through metaphysical gaps.

I coalesce right behind my prey so close I hear the sizzle as it ejects more splines. It shoots blindly in desperation into my last known position. I hear the gelatinous excretions of its form as it shifts and gurgles in perplexity which grows into complete terror as it realizes that it is now the one who is hunted.

I blow a kiss at the back of its head and watch as the splines ripple like the seeds of a dandy lion about to take flight from a child’s breathe.

As the realization pours over this pathetic creature I wait till the whole fabric of its being vibrates with the abject fear of being whipped out of existence, savoring the shift.

I reach out and grip the air just behind it, slowly balling my hand into a fist of my remorseless will.

In a blink the Plasmatic Phreak is compressed into the size of a robin’s egg, a faceted gem sparkling and almost as blue.

I reach down into the dark recesses of rotting wood and extract the web I find there.

I let her crawl up my arm and into my hair. It is a far safer residence I assure her.

Folding together the widow’s web and gem I empower the objects as I slowly spread my hands, extruding a fine runic inscribed chain of silvery web which now grips the jewel.

Glittering, I tie it around my neck and move off into the night...

Finis
Written by Spar10

I discovered a new sensation: the tensing of certain frequencies.

I have spared the life of one particular little boy. I have never done this.

He plays night after night. Hour upon hour of his existence spent on his computer machine. It is curious to me how these chose to spend their time brief as it is in corporeal form. Maybe they know they have forever, unless I or another of my sisters consumes their soul.

I have appeared to him within the game as another player.

Once, while playing, I actually killed him and resurrected him an instant later mimicking what had happened in the game.

He then “whispered” to me that he had to log out, had to do homework. I knew it was because his nose was pouring blood down the front of his shirt. His face had cracked against the edge of his table when he had fallen lifeless at my touch.

Once, I splattered his intestines out of his side just as he was laughing while sharing funny pictures with him in a chat room. I reached out again and put him back together and all he remembers is he had to get offline because of a stomach ache.

Each night now I reappear to him online in whatever guise amuses me and make his death more and more exquisite.

And each time I erase the visual memory of it happening from his mind but I leave the delicious after effects of the tissue that has been rent, ripped or torn and then recombined.

And through this I have discovered this new sensation in the fabric of my being where before there were just existence and power surging now there is an absence that is then quelled by the rippling after-images of his pain echoing through certain levels of space and time as all souls do when under stress. The confusion within his spirit and his mind not yet cognate of what is happening is delicious.

I anticipate the night.

Finis
Written by Spar10