Pandemonium

• Salina Re, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2016

“No."
I stare at Satan in the eyes, unwavering. "Oh really?" I retort, "You're not going to move? I'm telling you, move. You haven't seen me angry.” Satan squirms in his throne. Typically, as the ruler of Hell's chosen chair, it must be made of the skulls of deceased men, or it wouldn't be nearly as aesthetically pleasing. I don't know what I expected for the most evil guy in the spirit world. "Get off the goddamn throne.”

He laughs, "Goddamn? Really? How funny. You're so puny, little demon.” Honestly, trying to maintain an uprising is hard work when you're dealing with sardonic douchebags like Satan.

"What do you want it for anyway? It's just a throne,” he twiddles his thumbs, like its no big deal.
I grumble darkly, "You know what it represents.”
"But why?” he queries, feigning innocence.
I scream in frustration, stamping my feet. My wings twitch."You know why. Once you’ve fallen from the throne — hopefully dead — I'll be appointed Ruler. And currently you're a really crappy ruler.”
"Honestly I think I'm doing an okay job.”
"You're so lamentable even Hell doesn't want you.”
"But I'm more powerful than you!" Satan exclaims, smirking. I flash my maul in his direction and it fades.
"As an individual maybe - but behind me stands an army of demons. We’ve got you surrounded. Quiver under the influence of the all-powerful Lucifia!”

Satan almost fell out of the throne. And not from fear, but from laughter.
"Lucifia? Are you serious? What parent would name their demon-child Lucifia?”
I wave my maul angrily, “STOP LAUGHING! BOW BEFORE ME!!”
He straightens up, “Uh, no.”
"I AM NOT GOING THROUGH THIS AGAIN!”
"Skedaddle out of here, little imp.”
"Thats it. DEMONS, ATTACK!”
At my word, the army springs into action. I let out an earsplitting war-cry and fly forward, wrestling Satan off the throne.

Suddenly, he was in full power: his back straightened up to reveal enormous wings, the gauntlets encasing his hands ripped open to reveal claws, and a black sword emitting pure death appeared in his grasp. ”You dare to challenge me? YOU WILL PAY!”

As I fought, hacked and skirmished, I began to doubt the point of our scrimmaging. When his sword nearly cut off my arm and severed the head of a soldier, I almost gave up.
It's a bit late now, I suppose.

Nevertheless my fellow demons and creatures continued to aid my onslaught. My claws ripped apart his armour and dug into his tough skin, earning an anguished cry.  Dark blood covered every possible surface; even though my comrades fell among the pandemonium, we were winning.

When I drove my maul into Satan's left wing with a fateful crack, and he crashed onto the floor of his own palace, we cheered our victory. When the thorn crown that fell off his head in battle was placed on my own, I smiled and thought, who said a soldier in a skirt couldn't win a war?