Previous Volumes
Volume 4 No. 2
Demons
by Chelsey R. Knapp
She took pride in her darkness. Impressively so.
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Her bones twisted and clacked and she stumbled forward. “Now if I may, this is my last night.”
She sought shelter in a fishbowl restaurant filled with spiritual unpleasantries to repel monsters such as myself. She held up her fist and mouthed obscenities at me through the window.
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The host asked if everything was alright, as her behavior out the window towards what appeared to be nothing at all struck quite an odd note with the serving staff and a few customers noticed as well. Whatever she said, she must have eased their concerns; they guided her to a seat and brought her a steaming cup of soup. I waited as she supped, rather hating myself, looking more like a lost dog than a demon.
When she exited the restaurant, a warm glow fell over her face as she lit a cigarette. “I see it’s a big night for both of us,” she said. “Why aren’t you flying around and scaring children somewhere?”
Frankly, a rude question to ask, and the answer was simple. “I don’t like kids.”
“Terribly impressive. You’re a ghost, though, correct? You haunt people. You’re trying to haunt me because I’m almost dead.”
I couldn’t help but groan a little. “Ghosts are boring and redundant. I’m a much higher rank; a demon.”
“But you can haunt people and they can’t see you.”
“That’s the least of my strengths. You could do that to someone’s memories if you said the right thing.”
“I want to know what it’s like. To haunt someone, to be a ghost.”
The words nearly made me gag. "How awful. Why, though?"
Her head lowered. “Because I'm scared that I'll die and never come back.”
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The saddest part was her exaggerated and inaccurate perception of what it meant to be a ghost. But I let it slide. “Fine. Yes. I’m exquisite with haunts.”
She wiped tears from her eyes and scowled at me. “I’ll stuff your hairy ears with quartz and lobotomize your fifth eye if you try to possess me. Or anyone. We’re scaring people tonight, and you’re going to keep me undetected. Clear?”
“Clear as those livid crystal eyes you lay upon me.”
“Don’t say things like that to me.”
“I was trying to speak poetry to you.”
“Speak in tongues or silence or whatever comes more naturally to a demon. Stop the poetry.”
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We landed in front of an old ugly mansion where she insisted we haunt first.
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The drawn windows revealed four souls, all in their separate portholes on their separate floors. When I looked back over at her, I was surprised to notice a sadness slowly settling over her face.
I asked her a question I'd always despised. “What’s wrong?”
She swallowed something bitter and forced an anxious smile. “I’m just excited.”
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We floated up to an unlit window. I unlatched the lock without touching it.
Her eyes rolled back. “B&E is not impressive.”
I raised my hoof. “What about telekinesis?” Something in the house shattered. Even I didn’t know for sure what it was, and why should it have mattered to either of us?
I was surprised when she snapped at me. “Don’t destroy their property! What’s the matter with you?”
"Your expectations of both ghosts and demons are highly unrealistic. May I reveal that?"
"No!" She whispered a yell.
“Hello?” A voice called from down the hall, “Margaret? Is someone here?”
I waved my arm and one of their loudest appliances in the kitchen started scraping and revving. A dog started barking.
“What’s going on, Carl?” Another voice called from a different floor.
“Who are you expecting?”
“No one, darling.”
“We’re about to find out. Who are you hiding here?”
“Carl! No one! Stop it this instant.”
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We hid as he stormed by us and down the stairs. I could shape-shift into anything I needed, but she had to be clever, even with my help. The burden of humans with a longing to haunt, I suppose.
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The man named Carl opened the front door of his home and peered out into the night.
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I called down the stairs in a high-pitched, melodic way. “We’ve come for you!”
A child shrieked from the main floor. “They’ve come for us!”
She shouted, struggling to hold in her laughter. “They’re coming to get you, Barbara!”
The children screamed and stirred in confusion at the threat. “Who’s Barbara?”
In a theatrical voice she added, “No! Wait! Apologies. Wrong house.” She cleared her throat. “Carl! We’ve come for you!”
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The front door slammed and the family screamed and huddled in a corner.
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We floated up and down the long hallways and she bellowed visions of Carl's doom. I must admit, she did have a reverberant voice that stirred a sinister echo through the tall corridors of the house. I almost envied what a natural she was. I clicked my hooves and cut every light; terror erupted from below. I continued strobing the lights as we landed on the master stairwell.
The family held one another, collapsing onto a couch. I shape-shifted and became the couch. I pushed them together into a suffocating hug. All of them cried and flailed. I shifted out of the couch and appeared behind them, charming as ever. Still, they shouted and cowered.
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I could see her above, hiding along a curve in the stairs, covering her mouth to quiet her laughter.
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I grabbed the man by his grotesquely white collar and flew up and up until we were almost touching the crystal chandelier hanging high over the stairwell. I dangled him over the marble floor far below. The dog snarled and the children shrieked and covered their eyes.
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She darted up the stairs into sight. “This has gone too far. Stop!”
I shrugged and dropped him.
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She screamed. Then she ran over to try to catch the stranger!
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I broke his fall and dropped him low over the landing.
“He’s fine. Right, Carl?”
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The man’s gaze finally met hers and he grimaced. “Am I in hell or are you back from the dead?” He asked.
“Take your pick. Do you think you belong in hell, brother?” She asked.
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I chuckled. Only mortals called it hell.
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