This is day 10 of 's #365daysofwriting challenge. Every day she invites you to write a short story based on the image she chooses. Today's image (below) is a Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash
Find out more about the challenge (you can join anytime!) here https://steemit.com/365daysofwriting/@mydivathings/day-10-365-days-of-writing-challenge

This story is part of a new series. You can read the first part here
If you don't want to read the previous post here is a quick summary:
Kizzle is a demon. Usually he "welcomes" souls as they descend into Hell. But the supply has dried up. There has been a shift : Earth now has more evil in it than Hell. Evil souls are attracted to the place with the biggest concentration of evil: just think of it a bit like osmosis - soulmosis? - Hell's gates are like a semi-permeable membrane. There are no more evil souls coming down. But the ones that were down there... well looks like they are coming back up.
HELL on Earth (part 2) : Satan has a little chat
Satan was in a real bad mood.
Kizzle stood with his clawed hands behind his back, his head down low. He hoped HE would not pick on him. After all, he was just the fucking messenger.
You could alway tell when Satan was pissed off. HE was so... nice. HE would smile, and, people on the back and pay them complements.
Compliments, for Satan's sake.
It freaked Kizzle out.
HE was doing it now. Going from demon to demon, smiling and sharing a joke. The others were scared shitless too. And with good fucking reason.
It never ended well.
Kizzle tried to distract himself, by looking at the torture chamber nearest to him. Satan’s private quarters - in which Kizzle had the dubious honor to be squirming - was ringed by rooms full of souls, that HE had yet to decide what to do with. This room was dominated by a large glass tank, full of water. And in it a human soul, head below the surface, always just short of getting enough air to breath. His hand reached out of the water, grasping on to what looked like a cross.
Kizzle smiled. Christians always thought his kind were scared of the cross. Like it was some kind of lucky talisman or something that could protect them from evil. Did they forget what the cross was? It was a torture implement, a cruel way to inflict pain on men as they died.
And it looked good on fire too.
The cross in itself was not GOOD. It did not protect evil men from EVIL. Far fucking from it.
This man had probably already been here for a thousand years. Perpetually drowning. Clutching that cross.
Kizzle briefly wondered what he had done to earn this particular torture.
And then he realised he just didn’t give a fuck.
"AH, IF IT ISN’T MY DEAR FRIEND, KIZZLE!”
Kizzle jumped, more from the feel of his MASTER’s muscular arm around his shoulders, than from the sound of HIS voice.
"HOW ARE THINGS, MY DEAR BOY?”
Dear boy? Kizzle was in more trouble than he thought.
“Well, my Lord,” he said, trying to ignore the urine that burned a path down his scaly legs. “I guess things have been worse.”
"WORSE?” Kizzle winced as Satan laughed. ”OH, I THINK THEY HAVE DEFINITELY BEEN WORSE.” Kizzle forced his eyes to meet those of his Lord.
“Yes, my Lord,” Kizzle tried to match HIS smile, but the resulting grimace would have stopped the hearts of a thousand fearless men.
"RIGHT,” Satan said, HIS arm, still around Kizzle, was now squeezing him, hard.
It didn’t hurt. But it was very uncomfortable.
Was that a hug?
"RIGHT, SO WE ARE ALL IN AGREEMENT. THINGS HAVE BEEN WORSE”
Kizzle nodded.
"LET’S PUT THINGS BACK TO HOW THEY WERE THEN, SHALL WE?”
Kizzle, his eyes still locked with those of his Lord’s, gulped. He nodded again, as his bowel opened and faeces fell to the floor with a sizzling slop.
“Yes, of course, sir,” Kizzle said, with a warm a grimace as he could manage. “Of course, sir. We’ll make HELL worse again, sir.”
Satan smiled.
And when HE smiled, HE revealed HIS sharp teeth that seemed to twinkle.
No, Kizzle realised. It was not the teeth that sparkled in the darkness. In between the teeth, trapped in tartar and the torn flesh of men, Kizzle could see the screams of a million tortured souls.
"MAKE HELL WORSE AGAIN,” Satan said. "I LIKE THAT."
HE turned to one of HIS quaking minions, and elbowed him.
"WRITE THAT DOWN.”