There’s been a lot going on in the world since WWII. The looming fear of a third world war has hung over the heads of our great grandparents, grandparents, parents, and now ourselves.

In just the last couple of months there has been major escalations in military conflicts around the globe?

“Such Sweet Ruin Comes” is a short horror fiction piece I wrote to tackle these fears. I envisioned a demonic force getting off on causing all of the unnecessary and avoidable suffering the world has ever experienced.

This audio production creates a haunting experience for listers.

Transcript for the hearing impaired:

Sleep.

Yes, sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

Clouds thicken to fog across the lands, and sight shortens as memory dissipates.

Go to sleeeeeeeeeeeeeep, young ones. The hour of my play returns.

Again, my whispers are heard as rationality. My reign is all but guaranteed.

The pie will be carved four ways, and will settle as is after the wars for a time.

Then I’ll turn them against each other.

Sleeeeeeeeep, my dears.

This time will be different.

The aching horror in your voices gives me warmth as I close my eyes and revel.

But the sensation is always fleeting.

The only thing that sustains is unequivocal and irrevocable horror.

My whispers are heard by all people.

I am the voice in your head you mistake for your own when you judge each other.

I am the sneaking perturbance that disturbs your peace and makes you think you hate.

You see that woman there standing in the kitchen holding the meat cleaver? She’s sad and thinking of a different life. But when I enter her ear, I echo, “You can have it. You can end it all now. Go for it.” She turns around and buries the blade into the skull of her spouse. Divorce finalized. Easy as pie.

You see that child stumbling around the pool. Her mother just got a phone call. I whisper, “Why don’t you go for a swim.” The tragedy is intoxicating.

Sometimes I like to have a longer project. I’ll create a plan and whisper in the ear of the husband for several weeks, “You don’t need your old wife any more. There are so many younger, better women. You don’t need those kids. Life will be easier if they didn’t exist.”

Headlines in all the national papers. The talking heads can focus on nothing else. My works reverberate into eternity.

Now all of my whispers have culminated in the most exciting of times. So many have gone to sleep; the largest population in all history. I’ve convinced them to hate the word “woke.”

I’ll have four nuclear-armed nations with populations consisting of a majority of sleepers. This pie of a world will be divided and served up for the few who think they are in control.

I’ll convince them that they’re not happy with whatever sized slice they’ve gotten.

I’ll whisper that they can have it all, like I did with all the conquerors. The idea of nuclear and biological weapons added to this play makes me double over in ecstasy.

All of my subjects are asleep. Can’t wait for the sight of burning babies. Vietnam and Rwanda weren’t enough to satisfy my needs.

Can’t wait for the endless screams of the raped. The echoing pleas, “Don’t shoot!”

The mothers lying to their children, “We’ll be safe here in this basement.” Hahahahahaha!

The “tough” men, panicking in the streets.

The horror of knowing you’re dying, and that all the world is ending at the same time.

Yessssssssssssssssssssssssss!

Stay asleep, my dears.