The Battery

The monks bring out the iron chest and assemble the relics upon the altar.
Tears from a thousand saints poured into the Holy Grail, iron from the gates of Heaven and Hell wired with a slender silver thread that was hammered from Judas’ coins.
They connect the wires around my horns.
“Do you see The Light?” asks the abbot.
I wait. There is a buzzing in my ears, but no light.
“I am deeply sorry, Lucifer. Redemption is beyond your grasp.”
I crawl back to The Pit to continue my plans.
“A Hallmark card, perhaps?” says a demon.
Infernal fools.