In the pines, in the pines, where the sun don't ever shine. I would shiver the whole night through.

Today he looked at me and said, "You know, I think you think she has a soul. She doesn't."

But she likes to go hiking, and to prosthelytize about ethics and morals.

"Doesn't the devil do that? Doesn't he like to observe beautiful things so he can find ways to crush and destroy them? Doesn't he like to masquerade, and rage when it's removed? Doesn't he like to fool himself with a lofty, lying mirror? Doesn't he like surrounding himself only with people who believe he is amazing?"

I was stunned, really. He doesn't speak like this.

But she loves her children.

Laughter. "Does she? Or is it the way they worship her because she's convinced and trained them from birth that she - and only she - can meet their every need - even above their own selves. Is that love? You know better. She is nothing but an empty emulation of everything she wishes she could be, but knows she never will be."

Everyone has a soul, honey. God must still have a purpose for her, or she wouldn't be here.

"You believe that if you need to. Was Hitler purposed for God? Or was he serving someone else's purpose? I have seen her, and known her, and mark my words, she is a soulless creature with a mirror. Nothing more, nothing less."

I hate it when you talk about her because you say such disparaging things, and you never speak ill of anyone.

"I wish I had never come to know someone with a truth as savage as hers. She has ripped my first two children in half, and she is gleeful about it. She is not worth a single word out of my mouth, or a single thought in my brain. And unless you bring her up, I have years of experience eradicating her from my consciousness. You will learn how to do the same when you realize that she has no soul. There are no prayers. She is dead, and and anyone she has convinced otherwise will suffer for it eventually."

Do you think she is glad you hate her?

"I don't hate her. I used to hate her, until I realized there is no being to hate. She is simply a skin-covered void, with a natural fupa, no less. I have my peace with God, and my prayers of protection over my children. I will never go near her again, for as much as I can help it. Her emptiness is a liquid disease that seeps in any and every space it can find to exploit. She has already disfigured two of my children, and made fools out of my parents. The only thing she is glad for is her own power and poison."

Do you think she would be sad or hurt if she heard you say these things?

"No. There you go thinking she has a soul again."