Demons

My name is not important.  I am nobody in the universe, just as you are nobody in the universe.  Now that we have that out of the way, I have a tale to tell.  Heh, a funny thought occurred to me.  When I tell you this, it might sound like some strange hybrid of the Amittyville Horror, Poltergeist, creepypasta and shitpasta.  Nevertheless, Stephen King was right, demons are real, but not in that hokey way.  They do not immediately possess someone.  No, their actions are more deliberate, more insidious.  They start by destroying your mind, then your soul, before they take over.  It is getting to be time for me to readmit myself to the hospital, my meds aren’t working anymore, and the demons don’t want them to work.  They do not want me, they are using me to get someone else.  Death is not an option.

So where do I begin with the cluster fuck of a story?  I guess the beginning, but really, as complicated and long as this will be, I doubt I will start there; I will start towards the end.  I know, I know, it will kill the story, but you need to know the gist of the story, not the whole.  My friend, a co-worker was being evicted from a home he had remodeled, and he needed help getting his stuff out.  In the grand scope of things, I had been the only person willing to help him and his parents. 

The man had blood of ice, as the clichéd phrase went.  I had seen him walk through a graveyard at night, carrying only a Ka-Bar knife, as things unseen growled at him.  The person had balls of steel; it made Vince McMahon’s steel grapefruits seem tiny in compression.  However, he had told stories about things that happened in that house.  Someone or something walking around the place at night or in the day while he tried to sleep.  The Lights that would turn on by themselves even when unplugged.  I myself had seen people walking around from the corner of my eyes.  I always knew the supernatural was real, so haunted homes were always a curiosity of mine.  But my friend always joked that it was Corn Stalk, or Mothman. 

As he prepared to move a misfortune befell him and his family the likes I have never seen.  He made Murphy’s Law seem a funny but cruel joke you played on friends.  If it would fuck up, it would do so in such spectacular fashion that it was actually a thing of beauty.  When the engine cut loose in his new truck, it didn’t end with just smoke coming from the exhaust or under the hood.  Flames erupted from everywhere in the engine bay.  I hated that truck as he did, I helped him repair the failures on that truck, things I have never seen fail, not even in the military.

There he was one day, calling me asking if I could once again be a friend, help him get his stuff into a storage bin, and I obliged his request.  Friends help friends, we loan money, we give smokes, we do many things, and by the end, everything has been repaid and borrowed repeatedly, it comes out equal.  I showed up to find the typical move in progress.  However, there was something else, for a day in early May the home was cooler than usual.  There was an odd odor hanging in the air, it was not unpleasant, but just odd.  Upon entering the home, I was assaulted with the song Judy, but it was song in a deep voice, and I joked with my friend that I never took him as an Elvis fan, but this was not Elvis singing, and he was not playing it on the radio. 

It was only then that he came clean about all the incidents within the home.  So many incidents I could talk about in so little time.  I am trying to hold it together before they get here, I have decided that it is best that I admit myself, I have gone off the rails, and my wife and son are gone, left me in the middle of the night.  They think I have gone mad as the Cheshire Cat and I do not think they are wrong.  Oh, please come back, I promise always to be true, oh, Judy, there'll never be, anyone else, dear, but you

My friend warned me that something may or may not attempt to harm me and would not hold it against me if I chose to leave.  I stayed.  But first, I decided to remove whatever was in that home, but I failed, his Murphy’s Law like luck was upon me in that damn house.  But we set about to load the U-Haul, which “caught” two flats as he said.  We flew through the loading of boxes, which was odd, everything he owned seemed to already be packed, like he knew it would eventually be the outcome, actually, I don’t think they even unpacked everything.  I later asked, and he never answered.  Now that I think about it, every time I had ever been there, I noticed that everything he owned was never unpacked.  Over a year living in a home, and he never unpacked, I should have seen the red flags.  Like him, I had spent over a decade studying the paranormal, specifically demons and other creatures.

I should have known what was happening, but it was blinded to me.  One does not interfere in the plans of demons, unless you are their target, or you are a means.  I digress once again, it is hard, and I can hear that damn song in my head again, it is trying to destroy my mind by Elvis.  Funny, something such as Elvis constantly being sung in your head causing it to decay and die.  Ironic that something as powerful as a demon using man made music to get into my head.  I wish it would leave me be.

As we finished loading everything, the dogs and cats became nervous, more nervous than I had seen them.  Sure, the cats had never been moved, but the fear in the other two dogs was unquestionable, they refused to enter the house.  When the time came for the final walkthrough, I went with my friend; a dense sense of anger was in the home, it tasted like blood, I know I ate my share of it in the military.  It was almost as a cat angered because its prey got away.   As we topped the steps, I saw something bolt into a room, I cannot describe what it was, I barely saw it, but he did that Ka-Bar knife on his side.  I often wonder about that knife, why did he carry it at work, in that home, in the graveyard, he carried that thing everywhere, when one sheath gave out, he bought a new one.  He would never allow me to hold it, or even touch it.  He said it was an icon, something a Wiccan friend had given him for protection, but he clutched it as one would clutch a bible in dire times. 

Ultimately, I did get a look at the hilt of it, burned into it were runes of protection and good fortune.  I wish I had my own now.  They say belief is what gives these icons (like the bible) power, the same is said of ghosts and demons.  Now as we approached the first room, his former room, the door slammed shut in his face, and refused to open.  He shouldered the door open, and took the picture from the doorway, it seemed as if it took him an hour, but something was watching us from the neighboring room, I swear I heard it laughing.  My friend was already stressed out, and his normally foul like mood had gotten worse.  Even so, he moved as if he had aged by a several decades, and he had a limp, something I had only observed in the worst of winter.  As we progressed through the upstairs portion of the home, the sense of anger was growing greater.  I thought I heard chanting, but my friend refused to acknowledge it.  As I started down the stairs behind him, something grabbed at my leg causing me to trip into him.  Enraged at this contact, I spoke directly to whatever was up there, and it laughed at me.  I refused to turn my back to it.  We finished the walkthrough, and my friend went outside to finish getting ready to leave that hellhole.

His mother on the other hand, had this feeling that something had been forgotten, it seemed that she was being drawn back into the house, so she started up the stairs where she got a full view of whatever it was,  ran past me, leaving the home.  I came outside to check on her, and she said something had chased her out of the home.  She asked if I would lock up the house.  When I reentered the home, I was told to leave; it told me it would lock up.  Which they thought I did, but the house locked itself up, I guess, I don’t know anymore.  I know, I told you at the beginning that it would sound like creepy/shit pasta.  I told you.  I would swear on any bible you hand me, I would swear my very soul it happened.

A few weeks later, my friend lost his job, but he was glad for it.  He never had to come back to the community.  Then my troubles began.  Whatever it was in that house, part of it followed me.  Remember I said I failed to remove whatever it was.  I gave it strength, I took it off him, and brought it on myself.  The new occupants of the home started observing odd smells, I heard that the husband and daughter observed Satanic symbols in the bathroom mirrors after bathing.  God, even as I write this, and you read it, I am giving them strength. 

Where is that ambulance?  I wish my wife were here.  I feel myself slipping away.  I don’t know where he is, we stopped talking, he is pissed off at me right now.  Maybe I can send an SOS to him, but I can’t sense him, I know he would help me, we are like brothers.  Maybe that hooded figure that follows him would come to my aid, but even he doesn’t trust it.  Surely God would help me, but I don’t think God can see me now either.  I don’t know.  I should pray, heh, which God have I not offended?

They say you found somebody new, whose love will always be true, I don't know what it is to be alone,
that's why I dread to know you're gone.  I must find my friend; he is the only one who can help me.  I know why I must find him, I need a home, and I need a life.  Moreover, this just won’t do.  It is hard to keep control now, it is here, and there is no help for me now.  I should take the time to email this to my wife, my friend, my family, or anyone who might listen.  But no one will listen, all those talk of demons coming after me to get someone else, they all know I was already ill.  I am gone, I am nobody, I am…  The ambulance isn’t coming is it?

Oh yes it is coming, but not for me, well the me I once was.  But we have no need for it now, I am perfectly alright.  If I cannot use you, I will find another.  In the end, it does not matter; this will be a nice body, broken as it is.