Demons

I always thought I was unimportant. That people didn't need me. I was just a thieving orphan.... unwanted. I had thought my parents didn't even want me, didn't even want the thought of me. I didn't know that they were trying to save me.

Fifteen years ago, the orphanage found me on their doorstep. There was no note, sign, or anything, just a cold metal key with my name engraved that hung on a leather string around my neck. The orphanage never figured out what it was for. Yet, I never took it off in hopes that if I met my parents by any chance, they would recognize it.

And here I was, sitting on the front steps of a dirty, old mansion that had been abandoned years ago. Crimson and gold leaves spiraled off of the trees surrounding the house and settled around me in the chilling fall breeze. I twisted the key in my fingertips, examining it, even though I knew all its curves and edges by heart. It was a beautiful key for decoration, the part used to stick in a lock was like an upside down "F", while the other end was in the shape of a crown. For possibly the millionth time, I wondered what it went to.

Sighing, I stood up and proceeded to pick the lock of the house. This is what I did each day after school, sneak out and loot the same abandoned house. It had been uninhibited what looked like a century ago, though I had no way of knowing for sure. But it was filled to the brim with antique objects, whether it was expensive jewelry or ancient portraits or stained mirrors. So, I'd steal what I could in that trip and bring it home to sell on the internet, probably way too overpriced, but it sold as quickly as a brand new Apple product. Robbing wasn't exactly how I planned to make income, but how else am I supposed to gain money for my own use? I'm underage and one of the older orphans, so they expect me to give all my time to help.

As I walked in to the bedroom with peeling wallpaper, I noticed a silver hand mirror sitting on the cherry-wood dresser. It was gorgeous, flowers represented by gems decorated the back. I slid it into my bag and continued searching. Suddenly, I heard a loud thump coming from upstairs. My heart skipped a beat; the next level was the attic. Was someone here? I had never seen anyone else even come close to this creepy old mansion. I slung my bag over my shoulder and silently crept to the stairs.

I had never been in the attic before. Mystery shrouded it as thickly as a fog, emitting a sort of scary aura. The door was placed at the top of the stairwell. I came to the top, grasping the door knob and twisting it with my wrist. I peeked my nose in first, but didn't catch sight of anyone. I walked in completely.

The room was completely empty except for a small chest. There was one window in the shape of a diamond. Sunlight streamed in and I could see the dust dancing through the air. I walked towards the chest, then sat down on my knees in front. I tried for the handle, but it wouldn't open. It was still locked from whenever the owners had left. There was a faint pulling on the back of my neck, and I looked down. Instead of resting against my chest as usual, the key was hovering at an angle in midair towards the chest.

It was as if some magnetic force was pulling it, so I looped it off of my head. My eyes flicked back and forth between the two objects. Curiosity got the better of me, and I put the key in the lock and turned.

It opened.

I heard the lock inside click, and the lid popped open. There were multiple items inside, as I realized what they were I took them out and set them beside the chest. A jar of what looked like dirt. An extravagant necklace with a cross pendant. And about a dozen journals. I thumbed through them. Each one was filled, some pages of writing, some with drawings. The owner's handwriting was messy, as if they had scribbled down the notes very quickly. And the drawings, they were terrifying.

Nearly all of the drawings were of creatures, monstrous creatures that didn't look of this world. I was sure my expression was the prime example of fear. Yet, I skimmed through all of the books, until I had come to the last one. It was stranger than the others. Instead of being completed, it was only half way full.

When I came to the back cover, a piece of paper had fallen out. I picked it up. It looked as if it had been tucked away this whole time. Being the nosy person I am, I unfolded it and begun to read.

To our dearest Emmeline,

A shock went through me. I normally go by Emma, but that was my name.

I'm hoping you would forgive your mother and me for abandoning you. I'm sure you have years' worth of anger and hatred built up inside of you due to loneliness. But, trust me when you read this, it was for your own good. Now, I'm sorry for being so vague, but we don't have much time. The journals will explain.

There is a whole world filled with demons. They spend their days seeking out human beings to draw in and kill, similar to a mouse trap. Our job is to find them and remove them from this world. I'm so very sorry to not be able to tell you this in person, but you must carry on our responsibility.

I apologize that I must end this letter short. By the time you read this, we will be long dead. The cause of our death is obviously demons. That is why we left you at the orphanage, so that you won't be taken with us. The spawn of Satan can never pick up on infants with the sight. But you of course are older now, and they can sense you. So, you must run. Do not trust anyone, for demons can disguise themselves as people or animals. The journals will tell you what to do and what to look for. Take everything in the chest with you, for it will keep you safe. We love you, Emmeline.

I held the page to my chest, realizing it wasn't a letter to some unknown owner. It was to me. From my parents.

I was the sheer definition of shock. My hands were trembling, my heart was racing, and my mind was ready to explode. Shaking, I began to pack the items up starting with the jar. But my hands were quivering so much that I dropped it. Glass splintered my legs. The dirt drained out through the cracks in the floorboards.

With the fall of the jar, it sounded like the front door had slammed shut downstairs. The strange thing is, I distinctively remember closing it. I stood up as it sounded like feet stomping up the stairs. I pressed my body against the wall. The room was getting dark at an incredibly fast rate, the only source of light was the sunlight coming in through the window.

And then they attacked. The demons entered the room as shadows along the walls, but then seemed to peel off and become three-dimensional. They circled me, all of them in the form of ravens, using themselves as assets. Multiple swarmed towards me at one time, raking their talons across my arms and face. I screamed for help, but then remembered there was no one to help. I was the eye in the hurricane of demons.

And then they started going for the journals. They seemed to do everything they could to destroy it, whether ripping pages out with their beaks or clawing as they were doing to me. In an effort to save my parents' work, I screamed and tried to bat them away. I reached for the cross necklace to try and save it, but as I did so the demons fell back from where it was. I considered what was happening. Like the myth that vampires cannot speak the name of God.

I thrust the pendant forward and it worked like a blow torch. The demons fled and tried to find another way to me. I hadn't grown up on religion, but I thought of everything I knew about the Bible and put it into the cross. This time the demons melted back into shadows, and then completely escaped the house.

Amazed, I stood there out of breath. I salvaged what I could of my parents' items and bolted from the house, my new responsibility still settling in on my mind. Little did I know that was just the beginning.