The words rolled right off the tongue of the sharply dressed for no particular reason Richard Weston Kielich, floating into the air lazily along with a huffing gust of air as his eyes remained fixed onto the sheet of paper laid upon the table before him; the pencil in his hand he used to tap at his jaw, contemplating the extravagant word choice he used to begin this letter. And as it stood he wasn't the only one performing the same task, as a thin finger whose nail was painted a shade of burgundy fell down upon the paper and a voice to the right of him spoke with all the ire a twenty-something redhead could muster; which was quite a lot.

"Pfft, nice one Ozymandias."

The twenty-something redhead in question? Miss Indigo Ana Thorne, the hired personal assistant and trusted confidant of the rather elusive and enigmatic man faced with the simple dilemma of writing a letter detailing his origin or at the very least a part of his origin to send to a potential employer. She giggled quietly to herself, proud of her uncharacteristically sharp quip and snatched the pencil right out of the man's hand before leaning over the table to erase the opening line and replace it with something a little more reminiscent of something written in this century. After reading it over to herself, she pulled her head back and gestured with her hand for her employer to have a look. And so he did, reading it both quietly to himself and then aloud.

"I was born in a small town that was gentrified into nonexistence."

Richard couldn't help but laugh as he finished. The preposterous nature of this rewrite was something that most people wouldn't understand yet was effortlessly apparent to the two authors. As he toned himself down, he turned in his office chair and struck a glance towards Indigo, one finger raised in the air.

"Where on Earth did you pull that from?"

"Learned it from the best."

Her response was accompanied with a sly smile before her head shot downward into her lap. Grinning himself, Richard's attention quickly shifted from her back to the sheet of paper now stained with the ever so faint presence of eraser marks, and brought his empty, bare hand down on the paper, his fingers still wrapped around air as if he could magically make another pencil appear to replace the one Indigo still had possession of. Of course he couldn't, that'd be ridiculous though were he telling the story; he wouldn't have only magically produced another writing utensil, he'd have used it to cure cancer.

"Missing something?"

Again, she giggled victoriously to herself before tossing the pencil back to him as he offered her nothing in return, save for an amused look.

"Now I'm not. I can work with this."

His attention was once more devoured by the paper and his process of scribbling letters onto it, before erasing 3/4's of it and rewording it a thousand different times. This being a process that lasted him more than a couple of hours while Indigo sat, watched and waited in her boss' office. An office that seemed to be designed moreso for impression rather than practicality. The walls were painted an unobtrusive shade of beige and directly behind Richard hung a brilliant tapestry. The way the desk was organized too was yet another mind trick. Its layout was a perfectly symmetrical collection of papers, folders and pens. However, this as could be expected limited how much space he could actually work with.

Just as staring at the same brown walls was about ready to make her fall asleep, Richard who as soon as his Eureka moment hit remained mostly silent exclaimed in joy: "I've got it!"

"Well?"

Her question came out with a yawn as she shook her head to wake herself up. Richard, smiling contently, cleared his throat and read his letter aloud.

"Dear General Manager of XWF's Monday Madness,

I hail from a place long destroyed by the sands of time; wherein no traveler no matter their mettle or resolve would think to tread."

Annoyed, though not surprised in the slightest, Indigo rolled her eyes and shook her head disapprovingly.

"In lighter times, such as those before my birth and extending into the early years of my childhood, there were no worries about the unspeakable evil that would inevitably befall the cozy little town I called home. Sure, there were the occasional grumbles and squabbles on the petty, political level but at the time my brain wasn't fine tuned towards understanding those issues and dismissed them as nothing. And yes, they did in fact turn out to be nothing as what caused the destruction of my town.

I know I've avoided using the town's name and there's a reason for that as well. Frankly, it was always a small town and no press coverage was given to the events, otherwise all I would need to do would be point at the headlines to give a brief overview and you wouldn't need me to relay the details. As such, I figure using the name would be a waste of time. But, that isn't important right now.

What is important however, is the fate that befell the town. In a word: Hell. The combined powers of Hell and all the daemons within arose from the darkest pits in the very reaches of the Earth and swallowed it whole. Though, it wasn't an instant process as that implies.

It started off gradual, as the less hideous and utterly monstrous of Hell's hands came up from its depths and observed. All they did was watch. They were tall, skeletal with heads shaped like more like a goat than a human. Gray, lifeless flesh hung off its body, almost as if it had more to itself that wasn't quite filled in yet. I saw my first of these one morning at the local playground. It didn't approach me or say anything. It just watched, leaning back against the old general store adjacent. My mother saw and pulls me away from the park immediately, forbidding me from ever going there. At the time I didn't know why and thought it unfair though now I understand and am forever grateful.

After those, things, showed up there weren't any new disturbances for a great while. The goat headed beasts stayed, though all they ever did was watch.

Then the tremors came. Violent tremors that shook the ground beneath our feet to the point of knocking people off balance and topping buildings. One morning as I glared longingly at the playground that the beast was still waiting at, I saw the general store it was up against collapse and fall into the park. Old red bricks covered the park and flattened the kids playing there. I guessed the thing died too though I'm not too sure still.

That was the last straw. My parents packed up what little they could and we piled into my dad's station wagon. He drove as fast as he could out of the town, not bothering to look back at it as he blew through stop signs at empty intersections and ever closer to civilization that wasn't on the verge of collapse.

I however, did look back and what I saw I'm not sure I could explain with all the facts straight.

I saw the Mouth of Hell open up and swallow the town and as it sunk into the ground I saw the bodies of the goat headed things spread bony, almost batlike wings and take flight towards whatever place they could repeat the process with. There was a whole town full of people whose now devoured birth records would assure them new lives.

And the only ones who lived to take advantage of it were my family and I.

That's why try as you might you'll never find my birth certificate. Because it doesn't exist.

I do, however.

And I do hope you can overlook this and allow me employment regardless of my missing documentation.

Sincerely, Richard Weston Kielich."

"Well," Indigo said, smiling, "could be worse."

"Yeah, like talking about gentrification. Speaking of which I don't even know how that'd work in explaining the lack of a fucking birth certificate."

"It made sense in my head."

"Right, and that normally works out so well for you."

"Jerk."

"Whatever. Is this ready to send or what?"

"Do I have to do everything for you?"

"Well, you are my assistant."

Richard smirked.

"Right. Next time I get to be the bigshot."

"Hun, if we play our cards right there won't need to be a next time. Now, mail the letter, I have other things to do right now."

Irritated, though nonetheless servile, Indigo reluctantly made her exit from Richard's office and left him to his own devices. An act that would eventually lead him to a flashback to an event that happened only a few nights prior which in effect kickstarted the need for this letter to be written. However, that's a tale for another time.