Dante

Title: You think the devil has horns? They say the devil is easy to spot—red skin, sharp horns, a smile full of fangs. But what if the devil wore silk gloves, spoke with honeyed words, and looked you in the eye as though he understood your soul better than you ever could? Beginning: The first time I saw him, I didn’t think of the devil at all. He wasn’t cloaked in shadow, nor did he carry the scent of sulfur or smoke. He stood in the late afternoon sun, light breaking around him like a halo, speaking gently to Mrs. Carter as he carried her groceries across Main Street. To anyone else, he was nothing more than a kind stranger—too polite, too well put together, the kind of man you wanted to trust on sight. But there was something in the way he looked at me when our eyes met. A small pause, a flicker of recognition, as if he already knew me. Knew what I’d done. Knew the thoughts I buried so deep I pretended they weren’t mine.