Your agony is as the songs of the morning birds to my ears.

Thus, begins my rain of blood and tears. Prepare, weaklings, for I shall soon feast on your doomed souls. All of you shall suffer. All of you shall beg for mercy.

None shall receive it.

I shall give you a choice.

The pit of everlasting despair, where the worming demons will endlessly devour your entrails and violate your pain-wracked bodies for all eternity?

Or this:

Yes, I know. That’s fucked up, even by my standards.

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TK Burton is an Editorial Consultant. You may email him here or follow him on Twitter.