the screaming demon (Bolivian legend)

past a city of ashen men pocketed with a beating heart, past the ugly checkered man who stood as a coat hanger, past an onion bag filled with bugs and dirt and a little girl, there lay an ice desert. beyond that desert, beyond all of the ghastliest of the world, lay an abandoned mine digging all the way to the core of the earth, constricting an ice stone statue called the screaming demon. 

silhouetted by only a glimmer of light peeking through a mile long peephole, the screaming demon would stand behind a black hell of lava and melted, glistering limestone, summoning all the burnt souls sucked from the surface of the earth into his pit of black. it would mute its victims, for the cries of help would be saved for later. the screaming demon nor spoke nor moved; yet his essence of all the bottled up hatred escaped his body like a shaken-up coke, and it would all come down in pourings of screams, tainting all with abomination, lies, sins, and murder. 

the world was a chaos of tear-stricken cheeks and bloody buildings, and pain, oh the pain. it was only until He has sent the Pure One, the little boy that could plug his deaf ears, and travel all the way down to the core of the earth, and for there he sang unspeakable words that drowned out the screams of the screaming demon, so slithered away all uncontrollable hate from mortals, leaving just a slimmer in return, for such a happening could never leave completely. this is what made mortals still sinful, and still mortals, but no longer a replica child of the screaming demon. 

and yet, to this day, the screaming demon is still down in the core of the earth screaming, and to this day, the Pure One is still down in the core of the earth, singing a lullaby.

if the screaming demon shall ever be unleashed to the world again, purity will end.


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