A Collection of Stories

Weak Ones

Our world is black. No color. We live without feeling, without love, with emptiness. We are everywhere, hidden, waiting. There is a boy, a special boy with dark eyes and light hair, who can hear us. He tries to deny us access into his head, but we wriggle in. No one can keep us out. No one can keep me out. He calls himself Noah. Noah Bracke, a boy without a family, a boy who is easily turned. It's funny how the human mind works. Noah has a sense of right and wrong, and he always chooses right. But that makes him weak. Easy target. He can't fight us, because he can't touch us. He can't avoid us, because he can't see us. His gift; his ability to hear our calls is splendid, but he thinks of it as a curse. He doesn't understand how we operate. Noah will never grasp that we want to do him a favor. So, I will have to prove it. For us. Taking over is easy, but keeping him is harder. But we must remain in him. He has so much. Noah has feelings. He understands sadness, regret, love, and happiness. He experiences pain when a sun burn is touched, or when he scrapes a knee. We want that. I lust after the emotions, experiences, and way he lives. But I desire to change it. We all do. Noah doesn't understand that we can help. We can make it better. We can make the pain go away. But the more we try to break into his mind, the more forceful his wall becomes. He prays, speaking shrill words that hinder our capabilities. For alone he was weak, but with his God he is strong. We just wanted to blacken his soul, to help him have instant gratification. But he won't allow it. We thought Noah would be easy to bring in, to lure with false pleasures, but he is strong, stubborn, and not alone. Though he may stumble, he somehow rises again to his feet; to his God. So we, the demons that yearn to be in his mind, failed. And we are the weak ones. We are the fools, for man is strong when combined with faith. Stronger than anyone could ever believe possible.

Sorry for the wait, Youngins'!
-Green