It often gets so boring down here.

Those who come to visit have no choice.

My children bring those who are lost back to me.

Those poor people do not understand that I am saving them. I do not tire myself with explanations any longer. 

I am only here to help and therefore do not care how much they resist.

If I could change anything about this predicament, I would simply wish to join them. I hope someday I will be able to pass on.

When I was young I suppose I understood where they came from. Hope is a valuable but destructive force. They are simply the ones who put their heads on the chopping block, and I am the executioner. It is not a choice that I make.

As the king of demons, I understand the fear. Perhaps it's an irrational one, as they do not know who I really am.

Although humans confuse me, I have not met a group as perplexing as the citizens of Rootfield. It is where I was first summoned. Back then, I had thought nothing of that small Wisconsin village. I did not expect them to barter with me.

And it was a foolish trade. My end of the deal was to create riches for their community. I could, as they said, “hunt” on their land for as long as I wished.

It was not hunting. It was and remains to be entirely random.

I despise those who pick and choose.