Carl Miller
Sitting in the middle of my bed was a pale hairless creature, with skin that looked twisted and mauled, as if it was once on fire. The abnormally long fingers of its hands tapered to fine points at the ends. Instead of legs, its lower body formed into a snake-like tail that trailed off the end of the bed. It had small, black, beady eyes and a large black mouth with jagged black teeth. It wasn’t until it started laughing at me that I truly started to panic. Carl Miller saw a demon, but who would believe him? Who would believe it was anything other than a hallucination brought on by a near-death overdose? The drugs were a lark, a high he never wanted to live without. But that night, the night he almost OD’d, he saw a true reflection of his personal demon. This is a story of, 'Hope', a story of, 'What if?' What if there is more to addiction than it being some baffling disease that randomly afflicts people? What if there is a spiritual battle taking place all around us, all the time? What if there are forces in Relentless Pursuit of a Soul?
