Xander looked around, confused.  He did not know where he was.  The buildings around him were old & decrepit, & the road & sidewalks were in poor condition.  The few streetlights that worked flickered on & off.  The air seemed vaguely foggy, & was cold.  There were no other people; just himself.  His long black hair seemed to cling to the back of his neck, & condensation began to cling to his goatee, which was blonde in contrast to his hair.  He was wearing a trench coat & motorcycle boots, & he felt his sunglasses in his pocket.  He stepped forward, hesitant.  He walked up to a crumbling building with boarded-up windows, with an old-fashioned barber’s pole just outside.  Next to it was a building that looked like it used to be a butcher’s shop.  Whispering to himself, he asked, “Where am I?”
(You are in the City of the Damned, newcomer)
He whirled around, surprised.  There was no one around.  He stood there, puzzled, then dismissed the voice as a product of his unease.  He continued down the decrepit sidewalk, past another building.  There were store-dolls behind the window, wearing tattered clothing.  Cobwebs ran between the dolls, & a fine coat of dust covered everything.  The windows were spider-webbed with cracks, & boasted a poster advertising lingerie & women’s corsets.  Xander furrowed his brow & wondered aloud, “Corsets?”
(You are trespassing, newcomer)
Xander stopped & looked around.  He didn’t hear the voice come from any one direction, so much as in his head.  Still, he could find no one.  His unease grew; he knew he didn’t make that up.  He turned around, still searching.  Still, no one was to be seen.  He began to walk backwards, his eyes darting nervously.  His foot came down on something, & he heard an audible crunch.  He stopped & looked down, & felt his heart leap into his throat.  Beneath his foot were bones.
(You are not welcome)
He jerked away & stepped on something else; more bones.  Suddenly, it seemed as though the entire street & sidewalk had been cobbled with bones.  He looked back at the direction he had came from, & found the area littered with them.  Those, he knew, hadn’t been there before.
(For in the City of the Damned)
He felt something close around his ankle, & looked down.  A skeletal arm clutched at his leg.  He tried to kick it away, & it still held on.  He panicked, & began flailing his leg.  Another hand wrapped around his other leg, then another.
(The dead lie waiting)
He tried jerking away, & couldn’t.  Farther on, the bones began to assemble themselves into partial skeletons.  One, a complete head & torso, both legs missing.  Another, nearly complete, missing only an arm & a foot.  They all came towards him, lurching, crawling, groping.
(Make peace with your god, newcomer)
Terrified, he screams, “Who are you!”  One of the partially formed skeletons crawling towards him reached his leg.  Its hand closed around his shin, & it bit into his kneecap.  He screamed, from both terror & pain.  Another one wrapped its dead fingers around his arm & bit into his shoulder.
(I am Baal.  I am Baphomet.  I am Satan.  I am Set.  I am Mephistopheles.  I am Beezelbub.  I am Belial.  I am Lucifer.  I am Legion.  I am Iblis.  I am Diablo.  I am Akuma.  I am Ravana)
Xander screamed as a skeletal figure core a chunk of meat from his shoulder.  Another one grabbed his wrist & bit off his thumb.
(I am evil incarnate.  I am all & nothing.  I am eternity.  I am sin)
Xander was soon lost in the mass of the hungry dead.



Xander awoke with a jerk, screaming.  He looked around, bewildered & terrified, before calming down.  He was in his room, & his alarm clock was blaring.  He hit the sleep button & looked at the time: it read 6:31.  Relieved, Xander laid his head back down & closed his eyes.  “Just a dream,” he murmurs, “just a dream.”