Unalloyed Evil, the Murderous Heart, the Blackest Darkness
The evil that lurks in the dark shadows in every human heart.
Beyond Religion: The Reality of Hell
Hell exists.
Scholars, philosophers, and theologians argue endlessly about it. Religious leaders often promote the idea, framing it as a way to control bad behavior. It assumes people harm others for selfish reasons because they believe they can escape punishment.
Cultures and religions invented Hell—a final reckoning for those who seemed to get away with their sins in life. The hope was that fear of eternal suffering might compel goodness.
Over time, though, the idea of Hell lost its weight. Legalistic debates, dogmatic tangents, and empty philosophical posturing drained it of emotional power. If it ever worked, it doesn’t frighten enough to change behavior anymore.
But Hell doesn’t need religion to exist. Hell exists here, now, today. I see it when I look at the world.
I’ve watched true crime dramas. They show the Hell we create for ourselves.
Perhaps you’ve read about the Manson murders in Helter Skelter?
Manifestations of Hell surround us. They appear daily, unavoidable, stark in their brutality. The nightly news bears witness to them, a relentless stream of suffering and conflict.
Consider the Palestinians in the Gaza Strip. No one could mistake their existence for Paradise.
Perhaps some astute commenter can share their victim narrative that justifies atrocities like that. It would reveal exactly how and why evil manifests. How did the Nazi’s justify the halocaust? How does the US justify it’s many wars and “peacekeeping” missions?
Wherever evil arises, Hell reveals itself for its victims.
It rarely fits the tidy images of Hell we imagine from religious teachings. Instead, it manifests in the crushing of hapless lives under the boots of greed, veiled by apathy and frozen in cold indifference.
In many ways, that makes it worse. The evil men do rarely targets the deserving—it consumes the innocent.
Evil doesn’t dwell only in the actions of others. It lurks inside each of us.
It’s primal.
Evil Lurks Inside Each of Us
When we witness evil in the world, it’s easy to take refuge in the comforting lie:
I would never do that.
That delusion props up our self-image, letting us cling to the illusion of goodness or, for some, even saintliness.
I’ve stared into the darkness within myself. I’ve asked hard questions, ones I struggled to answer. I looked at my life and asked,
“How bad could I become?” The answers chilled me.
Before congratulating yourself, before deciding you stand above this, consider one simple truth: that belief, that delusion, that I-AM-BETTER-THAN-YOU feeling is a lie.
Without confronting the evil in our own hearts, we cannot become a force for good. Ignorance of that truth only leaves the darkness unchecked, spreading into the world.
!!! Trigger Alert !!!
This is where it gets hard—really hard. What comes next will cut deep and leave marks you didn’t expect. It’s the kind of truth that doesn’t ask permission before it hurts.
Prepare yourself for the weight of it, for the pain, the cruelty, the shadows that linger where light rarely reaches. These aren’t easy things to hold, but if you face them with an open heart, you’ll find something greater than the darkness. You’ll find compassion—raw, earned, and undeniable.
Consider this your warning. What comes next won’t let you look away.
1 in 10,000
My son is Autistic. We knew he was different, slower, but details eluded us.
I sat in a room that reeked of sterile authority. Across the table, they slid a report my way. It bore cold numbers, unemotional and indifferent.
My son’s cognitive ability, placed him in less than the 0.01 percentile, their lowest category.
Stop. Read that again.
If you’re a parent, let that number claw at your dreams. It gutted mine in a nanosecond.
The air thickened, and a weight, black and unyielding, wrapped itself around my chest. Every ounce of light in me seemed to collapse into a void so deep I couldn’t breathe. A black hole had consumed my soul, devouring every fragment of hope I had stitched together for my boy’s future.
I felt the deepest, darkest black hole in the entire universe consume my soul.
Pleasure? Not a shred of it.
Not a flicker of relief, no angle to spin it. Just pain, raw and searing, filling every fiber of me.
My body carried it like poison in my veins, and it lingered, persistent, merciless.
Do you know what it feels like to carry pain so pure it brands your soul, searing that pain in permanently?
It itches. It irritates. It incinerates.
And there I sat, a pawn in some cruel, cosmic joke. My son and I, the chosen test subjects for some twisted, sadistic experiment.
Rage burned under the despair, sharp and hot.
I wanted to roar, to fight, to fix what felt irrevocably broken. This had to be a mistake—a lie, a failure of numbers, a system I refused to believe.
I clenched my fists, ready to defy the universe itself for my son. I dove into that black hole, sucking me to the source, a manifestation of pure evil, a cruel demon who feeds on life force.
A Cruel Cosmic Joke
I stepped into the blackness, the kind that swallows sound and sense, and I faced him—the Evil Demon. My rage ignited, raw and unrestrained.
WHY THE FUCK DID YOU SEND ME A FUCKED-UP KID LIKE THAT?
I feel my world shake
Like an earthquake
Hard to see clear
Is it me? Is it fear?Madly in anger with you
I'm madly in anger with youSt. Anger—Metallica
The question lashed out, but it fell into his waiting hands.
He didn’t flinch.
He welcomed it, his twisted delight spreading like rot.
He fed on my fury, a parasite drawing strength from my pain. He didn’t just consume it; he savored it. My life force seeped into him, a rich and bitter feast.
He reveled in the torment, an experimenter proud of his creation. I saw it in his eyes. He absorbed the energy, turned it into something unholy. The Demon stood, satisfied with his work, but he wanted more. My presence, my resistance, added spice to the meal.
He decided to speak, not to justify but to torment.
He told me what he’d done. He explained, not with guilt, but with relish.
He believed that the truth, sharp and cruel, would cut deeper than ignorance. Pain, he thought, would flavor his feast, nourish his bottomless appetite.
But that’s the Demon’s curse. He can consume endlessly, but never fill the void.
No amount of my anger, grief, or despair could sate him. Yet he feasted on it, greedy and insatiable, feeding on my anguish until I saw the truth: I had become his banquet.
A Calculated Cruelty
He spoke, his voice curling with amusement.
“I created two of you,” he said, watching me. “I had an idea. I took the allocation of smarts meant for both of you and gave it all to you. Left him with nothing. For the fun of it.”
His grin widened, a cruel twist of his lips.
“Two lives, both designed to suffer. You—prideful, arrogant, too full of yourself to see it. Him—drenched in shame, convinced his existence isn’t worth the air he breathes. Pain and rejection baked into your very beings.”
He paused, savoring his words, then continued.
“You’ll revel in your superiority, your ego turning you into the kind of person everyone hates. He’ll drown in toxic shame, spiraling into despair, wondering why he exists at all.”
His voice dropped, weighted with mockery.
“I have high hopes for you. I’ve crafted you to break. To surrender everything in a blaze of fury and hatred. To become mine, body and soul. All of that Qi? It’ll feed me, keep me strong. That’s the outcome I expect.
“So,” he said, leaning closer, “how does that feel?”
The anger hit hard, raw and volcanic, surging from the depths of my soul. Expletives ripped from my throat like shrapnel, each word sharpened by hatred.
I wanted him dead. No, more than that—I wanted to obliterate him.
That bastard deserved imolation in rage. I would roast him, burn his essence to ash, torture him for what he did to ME.
Death for that motherfucker; I would seal his tomb with iron molten by my hate.
Selfish rage swelled inside, molten and alive, flooding my core with temper-fueled power. It wasn’t just anger—it was a force, a jet of pure hate, an afterburner blast awaiting ignition.
I didn’t hesitate. I pressed the button.
It's just one of those days, feelin' like a freight train
First one to complain leaves with a blood stain
Damn right, I'm a maniac, you better watch your back
'Cause I'm fuckin' up your program!Break Stuff—Limp Bizkit
The fury gathered, condensed, then exploded forward.
A beam of raw energy shot from me, burning bright and ferocious, a force that could melt an ice planet.
It hit him squarely, stoked the furnace.
The impact should have destroyed him. The immolation should have burned him to ash.
But he stood there, unscathed, smirking. His laughter echoed, deep and mocking, absorbing my attack as if it were a cooling breeze, cozy and comforting.
The Demon’s Triumph
“That’s not enough,” he said, his voice sharp, cutting. “I want more. Let me offer you a choice.”
He leaned forward, words deliberate and venomous.
“I’d prefer you keep living—torturing yourself and him. Do you even see it? When he looks at you, your son, hoping for love, for connection, for warmth, all he finds is spurning and contempt. Your eyes confirm to him that he’s broken, defective, useless—a reject unfit for life itself. He knows you’ll abandon him and leave him to die alone on the street, unhealthy and squalid. He lives in fear of your neglect and abandonment every day because he knows you think he’s worthless as trash.”
He smiled, a cruel twist of his lips.
“You’ve told him, over and over, without a word. The world would be better off without him. That message brands him, searing into his soul. Toxic shame. The worst kind of disgust, the kind that whispers he doesn’t deserve to exist.”
His voice dropped, heavy with mockery.
“And you don’t do it once. You do it hundreds of times. Every day. Day after day. A constant drip of torture, carving him apart piece by piece.”
He paused, his grin widening.
“And I love it! I feed on that pain. I absorb it, revel in it. It’s bliss, amplified, intoxicating! The best part? The more you do it, the stronger I become. The pain grows, deepens. You keep feeding me, and the suffering only worsens.”
He exhaled, triumphant. “The Power and the Glory are mine!”
His eyes gleamed with malice.
“But I did promise you a choice, didn’t I? Here it is.
If you want, I can end this. I can erase your son, make it as though he never existed. No memories, no pain. Gone. Forever.”
He leaned closer, his voice softening, coaxing.
“It would end your suffering. That’s what you want, isn’t it? That’s why you’re here. Without him, your mind could finally rest. Peace, the life you deserve. The one you were meant to have—2.4 kids, the whole perfect package.”
His grin returned, sharp as a blade. “So. What will it be? What’s your choice?”
I stood there, anger boiling beneath the surface. His words pierced, but in that moment, my fury drowned everything else. The choice came swift, unhesitating.
My happiness or my son’s life?
I chose.
And it was the right choice—for ME.
I said, “Fuck yeah, take away this pain. Erase his defective ass and hit the fucking reset button.”
Fuck yeah, take away this pain.
Erase his defective ass and hit the fucking reset button.
Cold-blooded killer
Life just don't mean that much to you
Sitting and waiting
Waiting for your time to strike
You've got your chance
Baby, are you gonna take it?Cold Blooded Killer-Psyence
The demon stood before me, silent but attentive, its eyes gleaming with something far too human. My son, everything he embodied, vanished in an instant. I felt the air hollow out where he once was, and though my hands trembled, I straightened my spine. The weight I carried for so long lifted, and for a fleeting moment, I welcomed the release.
“How do you feel?” the demon asked, its voice smooth, disarming.
I searched myself. “Good,” I admitted. “Relieved. The burden’s gone. Thank you.”
The demon’s laughter stabbed through the silence, sharp and merciless. “Congratulations,” it said, voice curling like smoke. “You’ve committed murder. Cold-blooded. Calculated. And you chose it!”
I flinched. My stomach churned. “You wanted him dead,” the demon pressed, stepping closer. “And you got what you craved. That sick, twisted knot in your heart—that selfish desire—you used it. You wielded it like a blade to cut him away. You’ve proven yourself well. You’ll make an excellent apprentice.”
The words slashed me, but I bit back the bile rising in my throat. “Why can I still remember him?” I asked, voice cracked, raw. “You said you’d erase the memories.”
The demon’s grin widened, exposing teeth too sharp for comfort. “Oh, I erased him from everyone else’s mind,” it replied, its tone almost casual. “He no longer exists to them. No trace. No whispers. No dreams. But you?” It leaned closer, a shadow looming over my thoughts. “I can’t scrub the stain of your choice from your soul. That mark? It’s yours to carry.”
My pulse thundered in my ears. “If I’d known,” I said, breath-catching, “I wouldn’t have agreed.”
The demon chuckled, its laughter curling like smoke, heavy and mocking. It didn’t turn back, didn’t need to. Its words flayed me where I stood.
“You can’t lie to me,” it said, the voice a scalpel cutting deep. “You’d have chosen the same path no matter what. Your anger now? It’s not regret—it’s frustration. Your hunger wasn’t satisfied. And tell me—why did you trust a demon to begin with? Foolish.”
He paused, savoring the silence before the final twist. I heard Darth Vadar warn, “Pray I don’t alter the deal further.”
The betrayal snapped something inside me. Fury boiled over.
I screamed, raw and unrelenting, and surged forward. My body burned with a desperate energy, every fiber ignited for one final assault. I poured everything I had into this one moment—every drop of anger, every fragment of frustration, every shred of defiance.
My Qi blazed as I focused it, channeling it with reckless intensity, hatred arcing through me like a wildfire. I hurled myself at him, my entire being a weapon. For a heartbeat, I believed I could win. Then my strength faltered, wavered, drained.
The demon glowed red, his aura expanding as he absorbed my Qi, drinking it in, savoring it. He bathed in the power I had spent, feeding on my failure like a banquet. His laughter echoed, rich with triumph, as I collapsed, my body hollowed out, my spirit gutted.
I lay there, broken, my breath shallow and my will extinguished.
I thought maybe this was it—an end to the suffering, to the cycle.
Perhaps, I dared hope, it was over.
But the demon couldn’t allow hope to survive.
But he crouched beside me, his voice soft yet sharper than any blade.
“No,” he said, the word heavy with finality.
“You’re trapped in Saṃsāra. You’ll go back and live it all over again.
The pain. The choices. The failures. And again, and again, endlessly.”
I closed my eyes, the weight of those words crushing me. My defeat was no longer just a moment—it was eternal.
Carrying Hell in Your Heart
Hell isn’t a place beyond. It isn’t fire or brimstone, nor the screams of the damned. Hell lives closer than that, nearer than any of us dare to imagine.
When I faced the demon, his presence coursed through me, jagged and dark, like shards piercing my chest. His eyes gleamed with malice, a portal to something far worse than death. I felt it then, deep in my core, an undeniable truth I couldn’t escape.
Hell doesn’t wait beyond this life. It roots itself here, inside us, a seed nestled in the darkest corners of the heart.
Hell grows, fed by despair, watered by guilt. Hell thrives where shame festers, where love twists into something grotesque and bitter.
As I stood there, caught in the demon’s gaze, I understood. This was Hell—not a place to fear after the grave but a prison we build within ourselves, stone by stone. A place to hold hate in our hearts.
The deepest pit of torment doesn’t lie beneath us. It carves itself into the human soul, dragging us into its abyss long before death claims us.
Hell doesn’t require gates or flames. It feeds on regret, on the things we can’t undo, on choices that stain us forever. And worst of all, you never leave it. You carry it with you. Wherever you go, it waits. Inside.
True Hell — the worst place to exist — lies buried in the deepest region of the human heart, and you need not wait for death to experience it.
The Poisoned Blade of Cruelty
Cruelty stands as the pinnacle of the dark path, forged from two elements: indifference—the hollow absence of love—and malice, the sharp edge of intentional harm. Together, they create something far more toxic, a venom that eats away at the soul.
I’ve felt it before, that searing ache. It burns, heavy and bitter, a poison I refuse to carry for long. I’ve learned to recognize it, to acknowledge its existence without letting it linger. To hold onto cruelty is to invite ruin, to let your humanity rot from within.
I hope you never find it lurking in your heart. I hope it doesn’t coil itself in the shadows of your thoughts, waiting for a moment of weakness. Because once it grips you, it’s hard to let go.
Evil thrives where light dims. It waits, patient and cunning, in the darkest corners of the mind. You must remain vigilant, or it will consume you.
Master Yoda discussing the Dark Side. You know the Dark Side from the Light by the option of Choice. Light gives Choice. Dark does not.
The Light of Compassion’s Hope
I won't leave you lost in the darkness.
Hope still flickers, even if the demon hasn’t swallowed your soul—not yet. Did the tale of the demon break the chains in your heart dungeon? Maybe you’ve glimpsed the light, and you’re ready for compassion’s sunshine?
Let me help.
If you're a parent of a special needs child, or if autism ripples through your family, pause.
Listen. Open your heart.
Shaina Noll’s songs might stir something powerful within you. If your heart can hold it, if your strength permits, let these melodies will remind you of the Light still waiting to find you.
How could anyone ever tell you
You were anything less than beautiful
How could anyone ever tell you
You were less than whole
How could anyone fail to notice
That your loving is a miracle
How deeply you’re connected to my soulHow Could Anyone—Shaina Noll
Peace be with you, oh my dear one
Peace be with you, precious child.
Peace be with you, oh my dear one
Peace be with you precious child.Angels hover all about you
They protect you night and day
Angels hover all about you
They will guide you on your way.Peace Be With You—Shaina Noll