Good Lord it felt as if its entanglement of long and shadowy claws were scratching every nerve, every lobe and quite possibly every passage throughout my mind. Even attempting to claw its way out of my skull. I clutched and I grasped in terror, frustration and desperation as the demon growled. It's echo would be bouncing off the inner surfaces of my skull. Oh how it ached and burned.
My screams were only a modicum of the terror I was experiencing. As I flail around it seemed my bed could no longer contain me. Over the side I fell into a heap upon the harsh carpet. The searing and crippling pain only masked the demons motives.
Again it growled.
"You are mine to control. Your mind will burn and your blood will boil as I entice you to do my bidding. Your bones will be set ablaze by my fury. Eventually, after I consume every morsel of your soul, you will be my puppet."
As this demon threatened and tortured my mind by it's disturbing monologue, the effects on my body were violently outward. My eyes began to flit and flicker with a speed that would seem as a erratic blur to the naked eye. My blood felt trapped within the peculiar vessels of which it would pass. Beginning to boil in its profound attempt to dissolve the vein structure and escape as most would escape captivity, oppression and imprisonment. My muscles felt white hot and immediately seized up ready to explode with the incapability of containing pressures. The joints became inflexible and oddly independent with the dislocated lack of control of which most, I included, would find disturbing leaving another sensation of helplessness. With the little strength I could muster at such a time I crawled towards the Royal Standard which hung at my bedside. Attempting in such desperation to find peace. I pleaded and begged with God upon the crown of the divine flag. Hoping that God and my Majesty's protection would see me through this time of deep incapability and indisposition. My pain could no longer be contained. I screamed and sobbed as the apparition, now gliding in front of me, raised its cold, emotionless finger, pointing towards my frightened stare of petrification. The shrieking laughter protruding from its forever hungry and blood-lustful lips became dampened as it flew into my body.
I contorted, writhed and roared in agony as I could feel the entire entity explore and burrow throughout every crevice and every detail of my body. Every muscle pulsated and throbbed as the shadow buried itself into my tissue like a parasite draining the life from me. My vision seemed filtered through the evil, macabre and red mindset of the demon.
For a brief moment, I could see as this gargoyle saw.
My breathing dulled.
My heart pumped with one hard pushed beat.
Then complete darkness.
After that thrilling and spine chilling first night. The described control and parasitic nature of this creature engulfed my ability to govern my own actions. My mind began to twist and stretch itself thin after some time from that fateful night onwards.
Three years since, I have moved from a bustling, developing town where all whom I love reside. I had abandoned them, forced to live in rural Gloucestershire with my oppressors. Ah for the sake of my audience I will change oppressors to the more kinder and more unconditionally (supposedly) loving term called family.
I preferred the developing town where there was a multitude of exciting possibilities in which one could entertain themselves. Whether it was the forever welcomed possibility of visiting a friend or heading to the commercial centre where one could browse to their hearts content. Today, however, is the usual and mundane day in the country where there is nothing to excite my fancies and the only task there is to be done is running errands for my family or partaking in other household jobs. This feels, to me, more like slavery. With no one around I feel more alone.
The solitude itself never helps rid me of this creature. The only entity around my person I have to engage in conversation with. As you read you may giggle and chuckle at this pitiful tale pondering whether life on my part cannot surely be that bad? The above is only a vague description. When delved into further it appears to become more pitiful.
Today being one of those mundane days, I get ready to leave the house running an errand for my dearest Mother. For today's excursion to the local convenience shop I am wearing my black tailored trousers with the matching blazer in the ensemble. The tee shirt in question is grey with a yellow collar and purple buttons. I often laugh at the state of my own eccentricity as the most stereotypically of Englishmen will either despise or revere. My trusty golden pocket watch in my right pocket and my pearlised walking stick in my right arm.
To also disclose my readers why I dress and look the way I do is because of the wonderfully outward and often socially unaccepted case of individualism where I will generally do as I please and no one else will tell me what I can or can't do. In the case to this creature I should perhaps change that to no Human will tell me what I can or can't do. Then again in the case of this creature I don't have a choice in the above. As I make my way to the door my mother halts me to no doubt, as mother frequently does, unrelentingly waffle on about some trifle for five minutes when most could condense it into one phrase or line if written. My mother is a short, rather domineering and a rather unpredictable character. She has a styled haircut in the region of halfway between her neck and her shoulders with dark almost black hair. Her features are wonderfully generic, her dark brown eyes are widely spread apart to the far side of her face and a wide, deceptively cheery smile. My mother also where's the branded make up from her employees, Chanel. This make up in my humble opinion can be too exaggerating of her features, yet stylish all the same. The lipstick she often wears is often varied from deep or bright shades of red. Her mascara and eye shadow creates eyes which are even darker. The tired look my mother has doesn't really help with this but where credit is due, she tries.
As she greets me she asks me to, amongst deciphering the waffle, "head to the convenience store and purchase a couple of bags of sugar and some baguettes for the family lunch".
"How would I be purchasing it mother? I have exhausted my books." I reply.
"Oh you just have to be difficult don't you?" In the most aggressive of tones, my mother doesn't request to people, she barks at them. "You're such hard work and so demanding, don't do anything for me!" In her most colloquial manner of speaking. As she said this, she moved from the stairs beside the house entrance and along the elongated corridor beside my bedroom door.
"I'm just about t-t-to head into no-n0-not much of a t-town for you!" I retorted, my stutter slightly betraying me. "cunning sentence for someone who can easily contradict you" I stated with some anger, oddly a time where my stutter no longer ails my conversations.
"I'm not impressed by the use of your long words" my Mother exclaims patronisingly.
"Sorry mother there isn't a lot to impress looking at you". I snarled "If you recollect, mother dearest, you will memorise and understand that you purchased elocution lessons for me to expel my stutter, like it worked?. If I didn't use such well phrased semantics to your dismay and displeasure then you have spent valuable money on an invaluable cause it seems! As for your patronising slurs, there is only so much your colloquial wit can take you? It's because of your meddling claiming to get me better that I'm in this situation in any case!" I said with my hand clutched tight upon the front door of my residence. My anger was about to burst from breaking point. I can feel it's bitter sting ebb away at my mind. The demon scratching away at my mind, pulsating every thought and every energy that should have favourably been repressed. I can't express the rage that set an inferno across my mind. Ironic the choice of words considering the dark layered abyss that dwell across my mind. Only through the darkest of all creeds and the dense black of all atmospheres in the blindness of sight, can the bright, intense heat and the blinding fires of all hatred and anger truly exist. To describe only the prey about to be ambushed by something superior in class waiting in the darkness.
'You're using my "meddling" as an excuse to stay away from work'. Mother came to a halt after that word. Or it could have been the last word I could hear and remember.
From that fateful last word came to me the monster who has infected me since that first night. My eyes shut.
The door handle gave way from my crushing grip.
The demonic voice echoed from every corner of my consciousness. "You can't let her get away with such a travesty. Her lips should be silenced. Use my power, my strength and my glory to hold her tongue" each whisper of that serpentine hissing became a very attractive possibility indeed. Its authoritative assertion was a power I could respect beyond the authority of my Mother.
I opened my eyes. The red filter was all I could see. The power I could now feel, taste, and hear made every vein on my arms expand and bulge from the depths of my tissue. The burning sensation from my mind was similar to the pleasant, soothing burn of a matured single malt whiskey. Oh the power of how I felt. Beyond the power of my other maladies, of which I will divulge in another tale, I felt strong for the first time in three years. more active than any activity I had taken part in.
It opened my eyes.
The time around me began to slow down and fluctuate as the red glare of my vision fixed upon my mother. It appeared that the ground I had covered from the entrance to the doorway my Mother was standing in had taken less than a second. The slow nature of this endeavour had truly made me see what I had become. In the red glare I could feel my Mother resist my arms as I held her. Her strength was inferior and automatically no match for my own. I raised her into the air and threw her across my bedroom. The red glare had vanished and I saw her fall in real time. Her body fell like a crescendo upon my floor and her gasp of "I'm sorry" as she hit the wall. The demonic laughter from my lips had silenced. I looked upon what I had done in horror. I could only say "you think that helped me?" and left to run her errand. I reacquired my walking stick and left the house hurriedly the mull over what happened. It was all a complete blur. What had happened exactly? The shock and wave of bewilderment shook me into a frightened state. From my door I turned left to make it onto the pavement. The beauty and wonder of the Cotswold stone on every house cared very little as the depravity of this situation had made me wonder, what had I become? This Mr Hyde recently discovered nature had thrown me into a daze and bewilderment. The path and every step reflected my thoughts.
Tap tap tap.
Tap tap tap.
Tap tap ta... Searing pain The pleasant burn replaced with one of pure punishment. I fell to the floor as my walking stick fell from my relinquishing grip. Screaming from beating my head and crying from the gaping inferno that now disgraces my mind. The demonic growl, ever present, and screaming in its frustrated and exasperated tone was clearly one of anger and anguish.
"Why didn't you finish the job?". I screamed from the pain as it bound my muscles and extremities fiercely close to one own liking. "Finish the job, silence her forever or suffer as they suffered every night!". This drained whatever blood was left in my face. my blood ran cold again with that most unpleasant of sorrowful sensations. I fought back with thought, powerful thought.
"I listened to you once, something I shall never indulge in doing again!"
"It felt like power!, Something you haven't felt in a long time! And you liked it!"
"I'm not listening!"
"You have chosen and thus appointed yourself more suffering!"
I picked up my walking stick, dusted myself down and walked with a brisk pace. The long walk was not at all pleasant. From the passages in the back of my mind began the dampened quiet sound of the women and children screaming as I walked. This raised tears from my ducts and was sent pouring down my face. A look of remorse, depression and heartbreak.
The tap tap tap of my steps brought me to a crossing. Again time began to slow as a small hatchback, it was azure blue and looked recently bought. It drove passed the corner and heading towards my position. The driver was young, possibly only recently acquired her license.
She was attractive, blonde and staring at me in the deepest look of inquisition. Her complexion was cold, a face looking dry from the weather. her lips pursed outwards with the wondering look in her eyes as to what was about to happen. Nothing in her inquisitive, green, knowledge seeking eyes could possibly detect what was wrong with me or the secret that I had concealed within this hollow casing. Nothing in them was going to anticipate my next move.
The screaming became deafening to me. If anyone else were to hear it I'm certain that they wouldn't stand it either. Even more unwanted on my part as I knew what vision the sounds depicted.
I closed my eyes.
"If you want to be rid of me that badly then end it! Go on it's so simple, end it! End it! END IT!"
The authoritative tone was a welcome possibility. I had wanted to be rid of this monster. What it made me do. Ending this vile beast back into whence it came with a most definitive step would help me and unburden my soul for a hopeful Repentance. My arms out wide, my legs together.
The slow feeling of one leg out stretching.
This next step should end it the car coursing towards my outstretched leg.
hopefully with this next step. It should be the step towards the gates and the visage of heaven.
Waiting to greet my saviour.
The demon growled, "go".