Don't Say It.

Mr. C wasn’t sure he had a heart, he ditched his organics centuries ago, but he could feel it beating now as he trembled on his knees.

Whatever she was now, stood behind him, dressed in white. Thunder. 'She' shot a hole into the ground. It went deep, and he could see…faces…flames.

“I-I know you”.

“Don’t say my name unless you know the price of it” she said.

He didn’t want to, but he could feel the word climbing out his throat. “Death”

Mr. C felt the boot on his back. The fall into hell was a long one.