I was hoping to introduce the results of by telling you a scary story. I was hoping to tell the tale of my encounter with a silent devil encountered walking through dry tall grass on a dim day, the rain only just holding back like tears on the verge of falling.
But I can't quite conjure that story. 'Devils' have always been kind to me. All the ghosts and demons and sleep hags I've encountered have been sweet to me, protective of me.
I am not afraid of those monsters.
The real devils, those that have done the most damage, have had human faces. They are handsome, they are pretty, they sneeze and laugh, they do laundry and groceries and look like regular people. Those devils hurt, they leave the deepest scars.
No, meeting a silent devil in the long grass doesn't seem that scary. Their worst bits on the outside. It's the devils hiding inside that scare me most of all.
