The Drunken Storytellings of a Madman.

Part 8

My fists clenched as I stared into my image in horror: my skin was beginning to sag slightly, my hair greying around the edges. Bags were showing underneath my eyes, this was anything but good.

Grabbing the Necronomicon, I rushed to my study to observe it. What I called my "study" was situated in my attic, secluded from others and generally quite a peaceful and tranquil area. I went there whenever I needed to ponder, however, it was mainly used for whenever I was having an existential crisis. It was a pretty commonly used room.

I just sat there for a few hours, struggling to comprehend what caused the Necronomicon to fray. Sadly, all I managed to get from those few hours were a panic attack and a head ache.

I was in a bad enough mood as it was. But then I heard the giggling, and my day went from bad to hellish.

You never see him to begin with, rather you feel him, staring at you blankly, that cold, empty smile stuck permanently on his face. Next the eyes, oh god, the eyes, hungrily acknowledging your every move, staring at you as if you were it's next meal. No emotions was ever shown, only a dead gaze as you realise you aren't alone. Everything about him makes your hair stand on end, as if ready to tear themselves from you, in a measly attempt to escape the oncoming threat.

Once you've noticed his presence, the next thing is the sound. The footsteps, quiet but powerful, every step creating a tremor between you and it, causing the floor to scream in agony as it creaks and groans. Then the giggles... the bastard chuckles to himself, as if it was all some fun game that you had the honour of partaking in.

Then finally, you turn, and see him. It's like staring into the eyes of a hungry snake: poised and ready to pounce at any moment, as you finally grasp your situation, your chest begins to tighten as you stare into the eyes of death itself, and before you know it. He's already coiled around you. You're his toy now.

I already knew it was him by the way he moved: silent and unseen, almost as if he wasn't there to begin with. I never heard the door open, nor footsteps as he came up the stairs. He was like an angel with his movement. Or in this case, Satan's incarnate.
Unwillingly, I turned. And immediately regretted it: his hand was outstretched, pointing to my direction, his eyes weren't visible from a distance, hidden under his hair, thank God. But his grin still persisted. I was paralysed, no matter what I tried to do, I was like a statue, frozen still with constant fear.
hirt
His arm grabbed my shirt, he pulled me towards him and our eyes met. His were aflame, excited with the idea of playing with his toy again. He raised his fist, and let out a giggle.

"It's time to play again!"
"My puppet."

In a final attempt to regain control, I threw the child with every ounce of strength available. He crashed against a window, and as a result, broke it, sending him falling towards the ground.

"Great, time to prepare." I gasped, rushing down the stairs to grab the Necronomicon. After successfully possessing the object. I tucked it into my suit, to keep it tucked away from harm.

With that, I stepped outside, it was time to battle with the God in a child's body.