The Devil’s Hands

At a young age I was introduced to the devil. He was handsome, popular, loved and he held the entire school in the palm of his hand. The very hand that tipped over the first domino. One day we were children and the next day, we weren’t. We were monsters, I shed blood defending what little of mine was left to defend but in the end we were outnumbered. We plunged our white flags into the soil and we left.
Years later I met the devil again, just as handsome as he had been before. His boyish good looks exchanged for a mans. As fate would of had it, he moved in next door to my apartment. He didn’t recognize me, I can imagine he never thought twice about us after we left…but I remembered him and I remember what he set his wolves out to do.
At the end of the world, I will remember him.

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