Splash of Color

In solitary confinement, Johnny Boy smirked as he traced the final sigil with the last of his piss. It was a shame that the guards had left his body waste to stink up the cell because Johnny Boy had a different use for it. Idiots really ought to have studied how he killed his victims. Whether they believed in the occult or not, and Johnny Boy? He was a believer. Known as the Sigil back in the day, the hottest serial killer, one who didn’t discriminate between race or gender or sex, or age. He was equal to all of God’s creations. He truly believed everyone had to be tested for their sins. Adults and children alike. He used various heinous methods to prove his hypothesis but in the end, this was his reward. Well, no matter.

He had almost finished here anyway. Soon he too would be tested and he, he would pass. Dipping his finger in the mashed potatoes, he covered the last sigil in his offering. Food. He brought the piss-coated mashed potato-flavored finger and licked it clean, smiling. He was done. All he had to do now was add a bit of blood. He leaned back and brought his hand to his mouth, a hand which bared many such bite marks, and bit deep. He barely winced this time, having become almost accustomed to the pain. Rivulets of blood dripped down his arm and plastered to his chin giving him an unholy look about his features. Drawing back, he let the blood drip upon the sigils and started to laugh as the strange light began to illuminate the cell from the darkness. A portal began to open between this world and demons.

A gigantic red demon with sharp, black, wings and several greyish horns came through, holding onto his salvation. A washable marker. He grinned and nodded to the demon before grasping the marker and closing the doorway. When he took the injection, he would have a new body. The next day Johnny Boy was cleaned and dressed for his final day on God’s green Earth. He asked to sit in the witness chair as his last goodbye. He sat on the chair and with his marker, he drew a sigil on the stand. It looked like a gang symbol and would probably be painted over for his hearing tomorrow. He was counting on it.

The hearing came and went and as he wanted the stand was painted over. The paint got on three witnesses. Later as they injected him with the lethal shot, he laughed until his heart stopped beating. He opened his eyes to a brand new morning and stretched in the mud? Something’s off. He glanced down and saw hoofs instead of hands. Taking a glance he took in his hoofs, hide, and curly tail. Well, whoever said that demons never had a sense of humor? He snorted, laying back on the wet earth. He’d have to switch bodies later.

“Miss Dally!”

He oinked.