Poem Demon Novels & Stories

Something is amiss. Mortal senses can beest easily deceived, mine own mistress. A most wondrous evil was born from the purest. I was speechless because of what he said. That means the evil who turned Agamemnon was long gone. "Then why the demons?" I wrinkled when I asked him. Demons, by the name itself, are already evil. Sushi looked in another direction, I don't know why. Demons art just pawns and influence'd but nev'r taint'd. I am a goodyear, but not tainted. Beast like us is just a tool f'r the most wondrous evil.

The fire raining from the ceiling was targeting him—the Duke who had betrayed his kind. "I'm a creature of the dark, Elara. I can't cross into the light of a pure soul. I'll burn up before we reach the surface." "Then we'll burn together!" She didn't give him a choice. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaped into the pillar of light. The pain was absolute. It felt like her skin was being peeled off by the sun. She heard Vane screaming, a sound of pure agony as the light of the human world tried to incinerate the demon within him.

"You petty, controlling prick." I swiped the message, and a poem scrolled onto the screen in a font that looked like dripping ink: "Where the marble meets the mud, a scholar's light shall turn to blood. A pact is inked in secret sighs, beneath the mask of 'Holy' eyes. One shall fall so One may rise, fed by the Saintess' golden lies. A demon waits within the breath, of the lion who's cheated by a death. Save the spark or join the pyre; the Author's ink is made of fire."

The cover is worn and the leather is pealing off. I open it. Each page is all crinkled as if it's been used a lot. I look through the book. Poems? Each poem is so meaningful. Did she write this? INNER DEMONS: It's like a shadow in an eternal night It does not let you free it does not let you live in the light It takes you deeper into an endless tunnel It ensnares you with chains It pumps it's venom into your vains The darkness does not let it's prey go easily

Hell, maybe it’s about time I just outright ask him. “Are you only helping me because of your father?” I ask, the words tumbling from my lips before I can catch them. He looks back, his gaze intent on mine. “There are many forbidden secrets in Hell, but none of them will drop from my lips this evening.” I recognise the famous poet, a Rivermare Wolf who sold millions of his poems to humans and Wolves. The poem is about a human who falls in love with a ghost who he can never love, but in the end it turns out he was the ghost all along. The human wasn’t a human, but a Demon, luring his soul down to the pits of Hell.

"Then you must know that there are demons who carry out the suffering of the people who are doomed there, yes?" "Yes," "Well-" Cleon steadied himself on the seat. "One of this demons, is called Aszres." Leonidas stared at him. "It sounds familiar. I think she mentioned him but I was barely able to pay attention. Who is he?" "He is from Tartarus. He is called the demon of despair here," Cleon replied. "He is the type that feeds on every single negative emotion and thoughts that you have, making you think that everyone around you hates and wishes you dead while you neglect other necessary needs for yourself. You would be too deep in fear and hate to go close to anyone or take care of yourself

With a swift swipe of my hand, I opened a portal and stepped through it. I now stood at the top of a hill, face to face with the demon Asmodeus who towered over me like a spectre of death. His eyes burned with malevolence, and his sharp claws glinted dangerously. "So, little one," he sneered, "you think you can defeat me? I am Asmodeus, the Lord of the Underworld! A prince of hell! Your pitiful attempts at defiance will amount to nothing!"

And Hans can feel his shoulders coming up defensively in spite of himself because the blatant reminder of his failures, of his incapability to protect the people was a giant slap to the face. His lips pursed into a thin line. Pretends that it doesn’t hurt him. “Well, what do you think?” It hums, stepping inside the room now–and that was just worse–as it smiles with it all of its teeth, an unpleasant smile. It was attractive and it shouldn’t be. “Oh, I don’t know,” the demon says, almost airily, “… humanity is as good as extinct at this point and yet, here you are, in my home, reading of all things, without a care in the world… like a domesticated pet.”

You'll be the one taking your pants off lol. Now why are they called demons? They are THE BEST PLAYERS you can ever see. With their smooth talking and killer smile. They can charm any lady they want without breaking a sweat. They break hearts left and right like it's nothing. In as much as girls have come to despise them for their philandering ways, they still can't help but fall for Yoruba demons. "One look and a daughter of Zion have off pant" -Bimbo Ademoye. Whatever you do, never fall in love with a Yoruba Demon.

"What could that be? Amelia asked shivering. "The question is who could that be " Eric replied quiet unmoved by the gun shots. "It could be Derek, Samantos, Anna or anybody ". He took the fork and knife. He held the full chicken on one of the trays with the fork and cut it with the knife. He picked it with the knife into his mouth savoring every taste. "God please forgive me, holy Mart take control. Angel Micheal, son of God. I mean Angel Gabriel, the son of God, oh my fucking God, someone should just take control ". She was breathing heavily as she said the prayers.