The “DeathWalk” Pt.3

I’m gonna start at the end and let this story unfurl in reverse as it was truly meant to traverse…

On my “DeathWalk” home yesterday, the Devil held my hand. It wasn’t my safety he was concerned with as much as it was my Soul, for holding my hand, he was the one in control as he whispered to me, ” let us take it nice and slow”, and we crossed that bridge over troubled waters. As we did, I looked up one time and saw his black-winged angels of death hovering above me and each one had the face of every person I have ever hurt. There were so many that it darkened the mid-day sky. Funny thing, I wasn’t scared! There was this calmness or sense of relief about me I’ve felt before as this really wasn’t the first time I was about to lose my Soul…

The Devil held my hand.


  1. I think it would be interesting for all of us to describe our devil…. what he/she/it looks like. LOOKS.
    But what if, you do not see, you only hear.

    If I closed my eyes and filled this space with the picture of my devil.

    Her name is “too late”. Not black nor pure red, but beautiful.. it’s like a trace, a mist.. you see the tail end of her, her hair wishing, long and dark. She is thin. Ive never seen her eyes but if I had to guess they’d radiate green!! Her smile is convincing.. breath taking. That’s what always get me.

    The trace of her is always blurred into the scene. If I went to reach out right now she would say, “come find me”. She always leaves me behind.

    New event, new place, it’s just another trace. Sometimes she bold and wants to play. I try to do what she wants because I want to be her friend, but she never bends.

    Oh, she’s mad. She just turns her head and makes you screech.. COME BACK. Let me see your face….


  2. Interesting thought… I might agree because at times.. pleasing her leads me to the fire, the rage, or something standing back at me about to throw the match in the fire, saying walk with me.


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