So, where are all the demons?

Good question. I didn't really explain that fully, did I? Well, I need to make a small confession. I said that there wasn't a hell before. Technically, that's true. There's no god I've met that sends demons anywhere special, nor can I say that I know where bad folks go when they die.

This is the confession. There is a place, sort of. More like a state of mind. A wavelength. A channel where all the ephemeral arteries of the world roll across landscape that can only be described as hellish.

The best part? It's right on top of ours.

I'm sure that religions and mystics around the world have names for this place, because I can't see how they couldn't. I've seen it once myself, so all kinds of holy men and women must have at least caught glimpses of it. I have my own name for it.

It was one of my first encounters with these things. A would-be demonologist got in heavy with an absurdly powerful monstrosity of a demon, and had aquired a little boy to help him. I'd call it a spirit of greed, but from what I saw, it had become much more than that. Absorbed some smaller ones, no doubt. Anyway, I busted in, all gung-ho, feeling like a hero. I came in, and the ritual was nearly complete. The demon hadn't crossed yet, but this kid was in the between area. I've seen a lot of fucked up shit since then, I've seen rapes, I've seen horrible murders, but nothing has ever disturbed me more than that kid halfway across the borderline, and the demon pulling him out.

So, not knowing anything about what to do at this point, I did the only thing I could think of: I shot the cultist. He hadn't been paying attention, I guess. He was busy enraptured by his power. Anyway, he crumpled, and fell and knocked over... something. A totem of some sort. Anyway, he fell into the ritual staging area, the totem fell, the monster roared and fell back past the borderline. The kid dropped a few feet off the stage, and knocked his head on the floor.

I rushed over. Hero style. Hoo-rah.

I picked him up in my arms. He wasn't older than 7, at least. He was ****, I guess. I started to walk away, when I noticed something weird. His hair color had changed. Lightened, quite a bit. It had a green tinge, too, like he'd been out in the sun too long.

His eyelids shot open. He had no eyes anymore. In the place were two grubs, rutting against one another.

I'm sorry, I'd rather not describe this scene anymore.

He said something, though, before I put a bullet in him too. Something that keeps me up during the day, and keeps me fighting at night.

He said, "I can't get out of this dark place. I'm scared."

The dark place. That's where demons are.