Devil's Doom

The devil craves my soul. It calls to him like the scent of fresh blood. I am not afraid. But behind the royal figures of the gods a shadow looms, menacing yellow eyes burning in its gloom. He asks me to dance. His clawed hands circle my waist, turning me to the sound of hoofbeats while his demonic voice whispers seductive lies in my ear. For one night and one night only, I let him touch me. When it's morning and gods return to their shrines, he stays. His bloodthirsty shadow follows me, a dark cloak hiding me from the sun and the light of hope. Where I walk, flowers wither and children sicken, touched by his suffocating darkness.