The Souls He Condemned
Steve sat in the dim light of his musty apartment, staring at the blank screen of his old laptop. The keys were worn from years of angry typing. He craved the glow of Slambook, the platform that had turned him from an unremarkable, bitter man into a self-righteous soldier against sin. His chapped lips curled into a grin as he imagined the fiery debates waiting for him. Slambook gave him power, the kind of power that twisted words like a knife, cutting deep into the souls of the unworthy. He believed he was saving them.
The laptop groaned to life, the cursor blinking mockingly as Steve tapped his fat, grimy fingers on the desk. The screen remained stubbornly dark, and his thoughts spiraled. “Cable company must be out to get me,” he muttered, venom creeping into his voice. A whisper slithered into his mind, insidious and soft. Call them. Let them feel your wrath. He shivered but resisted the temptation for once, swallowing the rising bile.
When the screen finally flickered on, Steve’s eyes gleamed with something close to madness. He scrolled through the posts until one made his heart race with a sick pleasure. It was Kathy Beals, the single mother from down the road, a woman who had three children by three different fathers, none of them hers by marriage. He sneered at her post, a cheerful image about thanking Jesus for the day. Thanking God? Steve’s pulse pounded in his ears. He knew this was his moment to deliver her soul a crushing blow, to make her realize how damned she truly was.
His fingers flew over the keys, sweat dripping from his brow as he typed a message. “Kathy, if you think that living your life like that is going to get you to heaven, you are sorely mistaken. I can show you the real way, the only way. But continuing on this path will lead you straight to hell.”
He hit send and waited, a twisted thrill coursing through his veins. The seconds felt like hours until he finally heard the familiar notification sound. But it wasn’t Kathy. It was her sister, Eloise.
Her response was sharp and cutting. “Steve, you’re a hypocrite. You think because you stopped drinking and found your twisted version of God, you can condemn others? My sister doesn’t need your judgment.”
Steve’s face flushed with rage. His vision blurred as he glared at the screen. He had never hated anyone more. His fingers trembled as he asked the voice, the one that had been guiding him all this time, What now? The whisper returned, darker this time. Tell her. Tell her she’s just as damned as her sister. Tell her she will burn for all eternity.
Steve obeyed. He typed with venom. “Eloise, your false church and your false faith are going to lead you straight to hell. I’ll be glad to meet you and prove it.”
For a moment, the screen remained still. Then Eloise’s final reply appeared, glowing eerily in the dim room. “Show me where in the Bible it says my church is wrong. Prove it to me.”
Steve froze. His mind raced, pulling verses from memory, but none fit the argument he was trying to make. Eloise responded again. “You’ve got nothing, Steve. You’re just full of hate.”
A creeping sense of defeat washed over him, but the whisper urged him on. Curse her. Curse her for denying the truth.
Steve’s hands slammed the keyboard as he typed. “You have always been a sinner. You are bound for hell just like the rest.”
He hit send and felt an icy chill creep down his spine. He had won, or had he?
Somewhere across town, Robert Finch, a quiet man sipping coffee on his break, read the exchange. The malice in Steve’s words burned through the screen, and Robert felt something twist in his gut. He had been considering returning to church, but now the idea seemed tainted, infected by the hatred spilling from Steve. If this is religion, Robert thought, I want no part of it.
The Devil smiled.
Day after day, Steve carried on, blind to the destruction he left in his wake. Each argument, each condemnation, pushed people further from the truth he thought he was protecting. His heart hardened, growing cold and jagged like a stone pulled from the darkest depths of the earth. The voice in his head became his constant companion, whispering softly, guiding his every word, his every thought. Steve could not see what he had become. The Devil did not even have to try. Steve did it all on his own.
One morning, Steve woke from a nightmare, his heart racing. In the dream, he was wandering through a vast desert, the sun beating down on him, the air scorching his lungs. When he opened his eyes, his room was dark, yet he felt just as hot as in the dream. Sweat soaked his bed, and for a moment, he thought his house was on fire. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw shadows moving, writhing. The heat was unbearable, and then, in the distance, he heard screams.
Panic surged through him as he realized he was not in his room anymore. He was somewhere else, somewhere darker than he had ever imagined. All around him, familiar faces twisted in agony. People he knew, people he had condemned, suffering in ways he could barely comprehend. The air was thick with smoke and despair, and the screams grew louder.
From the shadows, a voice he knew all too well echoed through the chaos. It was the voice that had been guiding him, the one he had obeyed without question. This time, it laughed. “Welcome to Hell, Steve. You did your job well. Now, you’ll stay here for eternity with the souls you helped send to me.”
The weight of the words crushed Steve’s spirit. He realized, too late, the terrible truth. The Devil had been using him all along. The people he had so desperately tried to ‘save’ were never meant to be saved. They were led astray by his blind arrogance and hatred. Now, he was trapped in this place with them, with no escape, no redemption.
The last thing Steve heard was the mocking laughter of the Devil and the endless, tormented screams of the souls around him.
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