MIDNIGHT SHOWINGS: A Short Story Collection

DEMONS

Demons . . .

         Lately, all I seem to surround myself with is demons; who would of thought it? Big ole' Darryl Jones, the hospital janitor was the devil's keeper. Perhaps those grey gargoyles, way up above, were watching me; his disciples, I wonder? It may seem like a stretch, but fuck, I adopted what I thought was a cat and it keeps killing everyone around me. I looked up at his disciples guarding the building once again; the demons . . . I want them to know I'm here for one thing, to cast their master away and prove I'm not a killer as the media will no doubt have the world believe. I was trying to keep my profile low, a hoody would have to suffice; at least it would keep the dry blood on my t-shirt hidden. Now was the time to end all this, logical or not, I had nowhere else to turn. And I could swear, as I walked up the gigantic stone steps to the city library, the gargoyles peered over and stared right at me. They were marking me . . .

      'Occult section please . . .' I mumbled to the lady behind the desk. She glanced up at me with her round wired spectacles. Her eyes tried to meet mine, but I quickly darted them away from hers. Did she recognise me from the news? I wondered.
     'Upstairs, 8.23,' she said, curiously. 'Anything specific you were after. . . ?' I could see she was concerned.
     'I'll manage,' I smiled weakly. 'Trust me to pick my dissertation on something so peculiar!'
       The lady's mouth softened into a thin smile, 'Yes, peculiar indeed! If you need anything else just let me know, okay honey?'
      'I will do, thank you.'
      I trotted upstairs quickly, avoiding eye contact with several people who were reading on the tables down the centre of the middle floor. I didn't want them to recognise me so I pulled my hood up even further. When I came to the shelf I desired, I frantically traveled across it until I came to the small section on Occult. Scanning over the books, there didn't seem to be much appropriate to my situation, and I was starting to wonder if what I was doing was stupid; was I losing it? This wasn't some Dario Argento horror movie, this was real life, yet here I was looking for a book with some placebo bullshit to stop my homicidal cat. Maybe I should just turn myself in . . . 
      But then something caught my eye.
      'Demons and The Supernatural.' I whispered under my breath. A graphite drawing of pilgrims burning a woman alive at the stake graced the front of the book.
      I walked over to the tables and sat down, beginning to flick through the pages of text that were accompanied by drawings of pentagrams, ram-skulls and horned centaurs. And then a particular drawing struck my attention: a black cat, with eyes like flames standing on a pit of skulls and bones, and the title of the chapter read: Exorcising Supernatural Parasites. I glanced over the ritual it described: I would need to recite a spell. Easy enough, but I didn't understand the spell because it was in a language I didn't recognise, but this was my best shot . . . so I ripped the page from the book and was about to make my way out the library.
      However, as I stood up, I noticed everyone around me was standing with their faces to the ceiling above with their eyes closed; they looked like statues of weeping angels. The silence in the building was deafening, and I couldn't move, I was stunned at what was going on but not surprised - He was here, He was controlling them.
      I decided to slowly creep toward the staircase, but as I did, their bodies turned just as slowly to follow my movement. Something bad was about to happen if I didn't get out of here so I decided to run, and in doing so, all of the people under his spell opened their eyes and they were gushing with flowing blood. They all began to scream! The cries of their pain pierced my eardrums, creating a ringing sound, so I covered them and sprinted straight for the exit. I could see in the corner of my eye that the receptionist from earlier was lying across the table in a pool of blood. Her eyes were shattered, she was fucking dead! Hot tears ran from my own eyes, not under any spell, but from the fear that was crippling every muscle in my body.
      When I made it outside, he was there on the steps. Ears pointing symmetrically to the sky, his long black tail wrapped around him and those eyes of fire. My friend, my companion . . . my pal was now my enemy. I looked at the ritual on the page, I was going to recite it and I was going to cast this murderous shit machine out of my life.
He stared intensely as I studied it as fast as I could, making hesitation at each attempt of the language – it was no use. I couldn't pronounce this ancient crap and as I looked at his face, I thought of every memory we had together. I saved him, nurtured him as a kitten and he was all I had in this cruel world, but now he was the cruel one. And I couldn't do it, I just couldn't . . .
      'STOP!' I yelled myself hoarse, 'Just fucking stop!'
     I collapsed to the floor in tears as he strutted over to me. He leaned his body into me and purred as he wiped his gums over my hands which were covering my sobbing face.

Later I was still sobbing when the sirens came, my pal had disappeared when they did. They arrested me and charged me for multiple murders and kept asking me where the weapon was, but I just stayed silent. In fact, I became completely mute and could no longer speak, something he was probably responsible for. All I could do was think now. I wanted to ask them what became of my little pal, but I still saw him in my nightmares, grinning at me with blood stained fangs.