From the word cloud given as a prompt, and images I chose, here is my flash fiction piece.
Crawt pulled his hood low over his face and led the pony away from the dismal remains of the village. The poor creature was laden with riches and gold – the accumulated wealth of the place that had tried to destroy him.
He smiled, his repulsive face curling in disgust at the people who tortured him; an exiled demon, afraid and alone, and they abused him.
Immortality had its burdens. Hanged, drowned, and lashed in the stocks, yet he did not die.
He limped on the narrow path away from the grim place, out to the countryside where he’d be free to find peace. His eyes glowed as he passed Mirelda the fair. The maiden released him from the chains and healed his wounds. She didn’t flinch at his mangled demon form, or the lash marks, but looked sad. Rolling his shoulder, he felt pain in his back, marred and scarred from weeks of punishment.
Her eyes filled with tears as she watched in silence with the rest of the village. Crawt’s lip curled higher, revealing his fangs.
How malleable these people were. Soft and weak of body and mind.
Uncounted years of existence had passed where he doled out punishment to humans. He supposed it was some justification that he should endure retribution. To them, he was a form of evil, and they do their duty by vanquishing him.
Alas, in their pursuit of justice, they grew cruel, and the villagers learnt no secrets and knew no promises of eternity or salvation. But with their humanity tested, their treatment solidified his understanding of these creatures as inferior and foolish.
Crawt took everything he could from them and felt no sorrow for it, only hatred.
Except for the woman, for she alone was kind, she made the way for him to take what he wanted, and take he did.
His step faltered in the mud, and turning a little, he heard her step. He grinned and walked on, the pony following obediently, as did Mirelda.