After a series of nonsensical events, she followed the man responsible for her troubles; he was tall and walked with long strides. Unhurriedly. Very unhurriedly. From nearly ten feet behind, she noticed he was completely bald and his head was quite big - too big for his soft narrow frame. Determined to catch up to him, she lunged forward with a burst of energy and landed almost squarely in his path. The man showed no surprise at the intrusion; it was almost as if he had expected the encounter as he smiled in a way that the casual observer would deem strange. She, however, did not consider it strange. There was absolutely nothing familiar about the small face whose centrally concentrated features were a comical contrast in relation to the size of the head. There was nothing familiar - yet she knew exactly who he was. It was a knowledge and certainty that was instinctive - primal. It was a sense of knowing that belonged to another space and time. It was an awareness that was hers and not hers at the same time. It was an inexplicable recognition but she was sure to the bone. He was Satan.

She caught herself. But she was startled for only a sliver of a moment; much as one would be when opening a closet in a haunted house and - already steeled for the worst occurrence - a decrepit skeleton leaps out shrouded in rags. One tends to easily reconcile the odds with the event of finding certain evil in a house of horror. There was nothing out of place. She felt no fear. No fear what so ever. Which was rather curious considering her ill preparation up against the ultimate essence of Hades.

Every single existential crises - and she had had many episodes over the two and half decades of her life - was like a torrid wave that bore her little boat further and further from shore. And on shore remained all the world's lessons, norms and prayers. It would seem that she was lost. Severed from redemption by the arrogance of believing there was truth to be found within the comparatively insignificant self. So in this dire moment when the popular recitals might have so easily worn off the threat, no words came to her lips. And still, she was not afraid. In fact, she was emboldened by a nascent energy inside of her that had been latent before this time. It was a realization that there was no coplanarity between herself and the Devil before her. Suddenly, in her mind, he existed in a dense glass prism unable to do any harm. She sensed the exact moment he caught her claim to superiority and she watched his smile fade into a dark scowl.

There was a war ongoing. No words....no blows.....just the intense energies of varied essence - pushing, engulfing, evading.

Losing.

Winning.

The stillness of the night lay heavy. She knew it was not a survival instinct that had roused her from that dream; she never felt any panic in the course of it and had no need for escape. But as she lay in bed wide eyed, she couldn't help contemplating the relevance of omens. It was going to be a long night.........

creepy scary :ocreepy scary