Ashes

This writing is in the first person perspective of a well dressed man six feet and one inch in height. His hair is slicked back. He wears a long black dress jacket with two large gold buttons, black slacks and black dress shoes polished to an extreme shine.

It's been so long since I've been here. It's wonderful to see again, after all this time. I had almost forgotten what it was like -- the smog, the desperation that stalked the streets at night, the families torn apart by apathy and mental disorder which will strut across television screens for the amusement of the masses. It reminds me of my time back in ancient Rome. The coliseums, the spectacle, the smell of freshly spilt blood...

Oh no, but these are the glory days. I always get reports, of course. The lesser demons always report thoroughly when they return from the surface. But no amount of reporting, no words could describe what the inner-city slums are like at night. The whole society is rotting away from the inside, burning down slowly into ash. The best Christians are the ones who don't really believe in Christ, and the best educated people don't even believe in God. They can sit in their offices, perches of power and pretend that they know why the sun comes up. But they don't.

It's a full moon tonight. You can't see it though, it's hidden by a bank of smog boiling restlessly in the cool night air. Lamps illuminate patches of sidewalk with harsh light, but muggings continue in the stretches of darkness between. Sounds of tires squealing pierce the air from time to time. Once there were gunshots. I could feel the hate, the hot pain, the anger in the air. It was all delicious. Every now and then I pass a homeless man lying against a building, bundled up in some old ratty blankets, trying to hold off the bitter night which cut at his bones so sharply. I feel nothing.

Two men, hardly more than teenagers, try to creep up behind me. I feel the malice of their intent. A man in a business suit wandering the streets at night is the perfect target for an easy couple of dollars. My tastes are very well refined, though most people would find them somewhat distasteful. They're right behind me now. Faster than their mortals eyes can see -- especially in the gloom of night -- I spin on my heal and face them.

"Can I do something for you gentlemen?" I ask.

The one who is closest to me, stops in his tracks and takes a few steps back toward his companion. They can feel... I know they can feel it. Their hearts are both filled with terror as I regard them cooly.

"No sir," he says hastily, gesturing with his hand to his companion, telling him to stop and walk backwards. "We were just going this way," he says, indicating the opposite direction with a quick hand gesture.

"Oh well, I do hope you're careful," I say, letting him know from my tone that I realize exactly what they had planned on doing. "There are many bad, bad men who wander streets like this at night, you wouldn't want any... accidents." They can tell that I am such a man who could cause an "accident" if he was so inclined.

"Tha--" the man's voice cuts out on him and he starts again, "thanks for the advice sir," he manages to get out. "We'll just be on our way. Have, uh...