. . the ever accepting fire, took him into her folds, not bothering bout his looks, his mood,behaviour, sins or any of his faults. In hades, she said no one would be judged, for to have reached there was punishment enough. Like a baby in the womb, he curled up, allowing the flames to lick his wounds, the heat to suture them and the colour to get mental peace. She took him in and let him burn. Let his bones crack with the heat. Let the skin melt of his body. Let all the pain flow into him. She let him smoulder - let the suffering take its time to boil to perfection - she let him bast in his own hatred, till all that was left in the aftermath of the burning was glowing embers of the materialistic son of a pig. She chad reduced everything -from whence he had come - dust to dust and ashes to ashes. This was the beginning of the end of HIM.

Out of the ashes, left from the fires of Hades, with the spawn of Cerberus and the egg of Cthulu and transformed with the breadth of life a creature, she created. Taking her powers begotten from countless souls passing through hell, she had made this creature - violent, hurt, demonic, egoistic and without a care in the world - the one intention to avenge what he lost in his past to get back that utopia he so craved for. This hell spawn knew no master and moved with the sole and single minded intention of a quest he deemed his own to reclaim his past. This is the end of the beginning of HIM.

Standing tall, with the airs of one sired from the firey pits of hell, he wished no confrontation, though pain welled in him. It stabbed him, made him cringe, twisted into his heart, yanking at his innards, drinking at his life juices, goring his testicles and mastrubated all over his decomposing body. He learnt from the pain, he knew what was to be done. He accepted the punishment stoically - a sinner who needed to earn his repentance. For to fall in love , was a sin, he had learnt the hard way. He learnt from pain that he brought upon himself that the wiles of the free men could not be trusted. He learnt that the hearts of men swayed like dead leaves in the wind when brought in confrontation with woman kind. He realized that a woman could never be looked upon - she was a bitch who needed to be brought down and learn her place. She needed to be hung on a hook before her intestines were cut out from her, stuffed with her own brains before being served to the very people who lusted after her.

Women - the creators and destroyers of me - the real puppet masters who danced men to their whimsical tunes without a care for what their actions or the ripples it caused. Like forest nymphs they trapped and baited men before gnawing into their very souls which they needed for their sustainence.

He came to learn it was far better in the fires of hell, than the arms of a woman. One could never expect the moment when the hand that was caressing the forehead would be striking the knife deep into the heart, twisting as it went through bone and gristle like a hot knife through butter. More heartless than Gods, these creatures demented and divided the free world of men.

He often wondered why the one closest to a man was the one that struck the deepest and left a gaping wound that never healed, the wound left to bloodsuckers, the scar that never came, the pain that never went, the hate that was all left in the empty shell.

The creature saw it all, he waited , he watched. he wanted to time to be ripe to strike the burning iron into the she demons that were loose in the world above. He waited to wreck havoc and send all these creature back to where they came from, hell was paradise for them - he waited . . . . .