And before I know it, I can hear myself saying, “I see the fallen angels here—what remains after them—but where are the rest? I mean, where are the demons?”
Satan leers at me, and his voice resonates deeply, suddenly penetrating the depth of my soul.
“Where else?” he says. “Inside.”
Then he walks down the path, not before waving his hand with an elegant, courteous gesture, which I take to mean, Come now! Come with me!
Which I do—even though with each step, my feet get more and more scalded by the boiling earth. But I don’t give a damn, this pain cannot stop me, nothing can, because somehow I know there is a purpose to this journey. In life or death, I am—and perhaps always will be—a woman seeking a name for herself.
A woman on a quest.
We are traveling together in the direction of my village. Well, the copy of it. As close as can be.
Ghost in Twisted
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"Dark, intense, entertaining, thought-provoking and emotional, these short stories each hold their own brand of magnetisim that lasts long after the last word is read... A wealth of depth in few words."
- Dii, Top 500 Reviewer