The True Evil
The True Evil
Penned by Wuhao Iosef Mythrin, from the point of view of no one in particular
the true evil. I am not the demonic horde at the gates, I am not the
villainous murderer of dozens. I am not the terrorist who kidnapped
your children, nor am I the monster who tormented them.
I am insidious, and I am disgusting. I am a
parasite, spreading from soul to soul, heart to heart. Worse than the
raiders chipping at the fortress walls, I am the traitor within the
citadel. I am not the soldier who murdered your countrymen, nor the
baron who ordered them to -- I am the person who sold them the plans
I wiped your tears when you were sad, sang the
songs that entertained you; I was there for you, I was there for your
brothers and sisters; You gave me your heart, and I gave you mine. And
when the time came, I took mine back and returned yours in a thousand
Inside you, I have inspired a deep conflict;
Do you hate me for the things I have done to you? Do you hate yourself
for allowing yourself to trust me? Do you hate me for inspiring to you?
Round and round I drag you on this accursed track, and you tearfully
ponder whose heart to plunge your dagger into.
Perhaps you are alone in seeing my true face;
Is it worse for you to be the only one to know, or perhaps you wish
to have never known at all? Is it better to believe a tragic truth,
or a lustrous lie?
I have a thousand names, a million bodies, and
a single soul. I infect, I taint, I destroy you, rebuild you, and from
the ruins I have crafted a copy of myself.
As a child, I admired the dawn, and I will stand
proudly on the mountaintop observing the sunset. And perhaps as day
gives into night, I will watch with another victim, smiling in feigned
love and friendship. Tell me, does it hurt you more to know that I have
done it again, or is it worse that I have cast you aside?
Perhaps in your sorrow and anguish, you yourself
will turn as I did -- Perhaps you will not even realize what you are
doing as you emulate me, and destroy more lives, and allow yourself
to become a part of my delightful cycle of sorrows. And I laugh, because
though my flesh dies, my spirit has reproduced within you. I shall live
through the aeons, through a trillion incarnations -- And you, you have
So yes, sharpen your dagger. Stick it through
my heart. It will do you no good -- Because the original black heart
died and decayed generations ago, before history. All you can do is
stick your dagger through the heart of another victim, another tainted
soul who was dragged down into hell, kicking and screaming, just like