There is nothing but darkness. No sun. No flowers. No warmth. No love. There used to be, though. Before the Demon came.

I know, I know, I sound super dramatic, but I have a good reason to. The earth was... I was gonna say wiped off the face of the earth, but that wouldn't work. Let's just say it literally no longer exists. Now, hush, so I can tell the rest of the story.

It was a beautiful day. Birds sang from their high perches, the sun shone down vibrantly on the world, and teenagers of all colors, shapes, and sizes jumped into lakes and pools.

I, myself, was having a little fun at the beach with my family. We made Sandcastles, rolled out sand-angels, scavenged for seashells and coral, and danced along the shoreline, wind whipping past our hair and the salty spray in our faces.

But then he came.

He came so quick, no one had time to react. He was a hurricane, sucking up houses and trees and people. A hurricane of Hell. I stood knee-deep in the water and watched in horror, unable to do anything as he swallowed my parents and four older sisters whole. I'm not going to describe the details.

Before long, there wasn't anything left. Not even a drop of water. Just black sand, stretching for miles and miles.

But somehow I survived.

I expected him to swallow me up as well, but instead he stopped, and looked upon me in... excitement. Not disgust, or hatred, or any of the things I would expect from a Demon. Just... excitement. Maybe even a little awe. Pleased, he took me away. He spared me. He destroyed everyone and everything- except me.

He saw something in me. Something dark. And he loved it.

But to continue living, I had to be tough. I had to harden my heart, speak little, and do whatever he said. His 'little Dark beauty', he called me. I resented the name, but it was better than being eaten alive like the rest of the world.

I used to think about my family in sorrow, but I learned to think about them in a different way. Now when I think about them I think about how weak they were, and how they should've been tougher. It was their own fault. Right?

But at other times, I remembered the old me, the girl who couldn't help but care for everyone and everything. The girl who wishes on stars and laughs, talks and cries, building other people up, the girl whom is ready to put others before herself, living life as carelessly as a young girl could be.

It's like being at war with two sides. But I've survived this long, so I must be doing something right, I suppose.

I was ten when it happened. Now, I'm not sure how old I am. It could have been weeks. Or months. Or even years. There is no way to tell; there was no sun to set and rise— just that same, dark cloudy grey sky, going on for miles and miles.

I've changed so much since then. For countless days I wondered what he saw in me. I certainly couldn't see it. I mean, I don't feel evil. Although, maybe I was, considering how much time I spent resenting my family for their own deaths. But I was lonely. There was literally nothing out there. Just that same view of black sand and black-grey sky.

I wondered were it came from, and where the Demon goes all day. He always disappears. But he's never told me where he goes. I'm smart enough not to ask.

Yet every day the Demon comes back from wherever he went with a bag full of mystery meat for me. At first, I refused to touch it. But then I realized that no one was ever coming to save me, and I had to eat something or I'd starve, so I caved. It wasn't even really that bad, like I was expecting. He doesn't need to eat himself, obviously. Well, physical food that is. At least that's what he says.

But one thing is for sure; he always comes back looking very tired.

Me, I've found things I can do all day so that I don't get bored to death. I find my ways. For one thing, I've found a hobby of just drawing in the sand with my finger. I've become quite the good artist, not to brag.

Sometimes I spend my time jogging, trying to see how far the sand goes. However, running over sand is quite difficult as you can imagine, so it's not my favorite. I never find an end. On a side note, I have increased my stamina and speed pretty well.

Other times, I just stare out into space, thinking, or maybe dozing off to sleep. I'm surprised I haven't gone insane yet. Or maybe I already have.

I wonder what the Demon plans to do with me.
He obviously wanted me for something, didn't he? Or he would've ended my misery right then and there instead of going through the trouble of keeping me alive. Of course, he was a Demon, so it was hard to tell.

But back to the present.

At the moment, I am digging. Why am I digging, you might ask? Well, it is another one of my favorite activities that I forgot to mention.

I figure, there must be something out there. It's simply not possible for the sand to go on and on forever. Although, before the Demon came I never thought it was possible for an evil giant to come storming up the street, consuming everything in sight.

But anyways, I'm not going to give up that easily.

And so, I had started to dig a hole, hoping I'd eventually reach something other than black sand. It was hard at first; the sand kept collapsing in on itself and I'd have to start all over again. It still is hard.

But first, I built up a large pile of sand in front and around my progress, so the devil wouldn't suspect a thing when he came back. To my surprise, it worked.

Well, either that, or he secretly knows about it but doesn't bother to do anything. How should I know? He's a secretive guy.

But I push my long, tangled black hair out of my grimy face, pushing all of my doubts away with it. And, yeah, one of the many cons of the world ending— there's no showers. I used the sand to give myself sand baths from time to time, but nothing could replace good old warm water and soap.

I dig on my hands and knees like an animal- which is probably what I look like by now- and focus not on width, but on depth.

After who knows how many days of digging, my hole was now about ten feet deep.

It would be deeper, but due to constantly collapsing sand it feels terribly unprogressive.
And still, I reach no end. Not even a pebble.

I brush my hair out of my face again as it sneakily snuck down my forehead, wishing I had grabbed a hair-tie before the devil had consumed everything.

My hands are rubbed red and raw from the sand, and in some places even bleeding. But it is worth it. Well, it will be when I find something. If I find something.

I grind my teeth and painfully scrape out another handful of gritty, onyx-colored sand, throwing it over my head. Bits of it rain down on me, making my eyes water and my vision blur.

I continue through this, digging out the sand and throwing it over my head and into the piles. The blisters on my hands that are still healing from the previous time I was left alone open back up again, dripping thick red over the black.

I welcome it, though— the pain is worth seeing a color other than the black of the sand and the pale, ghostly white of my skin.

How am I surviving just off of meat alone, you might ask? Truthfully, I have no idea. When vitamins and minerals and water and all of that other important stuff ended with the world, it seemed my need for them ended as well. Or maybe it was something in the meat. Either way, I am somehow still alive. Not to mention that with the lack of sugary sweets and junk food my skin has cleared up quite a bit as well.

I cringe as my hair fell in my eyes yet again, forcing me to stop. I am wasting precious time.

Suddenly, the ground shakes. I watch in annoyance as sand cascades back down into the hole, filling it up about two inches. There goes my progress.

I sigh and stand up, reaching my arms towards the gloomy sky as I scramble back up the steep slope and out of the hole, my feet struggling to find purchase.

The ground shakes again, causing me to loose another two inches of ground, and a large booming noise sounds off, like a canon. It seems to come from everywhere at once, but to me, that is normal. The Demon always loves a dramatic entrance.

I finally make it to the top and slide down the hill of sand I had built around my giant hole, landing on my knees.

But I am up again, and running, as far away from my hole as possible. I don't want to be caught at this site.

It is quite difficult to run on sand, as you can imagine, as my feet keep slipping and little ground is made, yet I am used to it— I always catch myself and run faster.

Soon, my hole disappears into the distance, and I collapse to the ground, exhausted and panting from the run, my lungs burning from lack of oxygen and the sand I'd inhaled.

The ground shakes again, like there is an earthquake, but I know this is no earthquake. It is followed by tremors, and the sand begins to bury my knees as it is shaken around like a baker sifting flour around a pan. Finally, it stops as a gigantic shape appears before me.

I hesitantly put one foot steady, and press my hands against my leg, pushing myself up from the sand cautiously as I stand before the creature with an internal groan.

Master is home.