My Demon

People wonder what it takes to be a good author. I personally believe in the old saying "Write what you know." With that in mind I would like to tell you a story. Its a story that is still being played out in my life but I figured you
should know, seeing as how im not quite sure how much longer ill be able to speak about it let alone lucidly write about it. The demon first came to me when I was eight years old. I remember everything so clearly about that night,
although I have trouble remembering things that happened to me last month. I was living in Bakersfield, CA and about to move to Las Vegas with my family even though I didnt know it at the time. My mother had just sent me to bed (no loving goodnight kisses and tuck-ins in my childhood. Mother and father were much to busy for that sort of thing) and the last thing I remember before falling alseep was staring out of my bedroom window into the soft glow of the flourescent streetlamps.
I remember waking suddenly and looking around the bedroom. As my eyes became accustomed to the darkness, I noticed the demon that sat crouched in the farthest corner of my room. I clearly recall the smell of blood filling my nostrils, causing me to dry heave. As I studied the Creature in the corner I began to realize that the smell was coming from it. I noticed that it wore its skin inside out. It was a dark red, slimy and glistening with cords and veins stretched taut over its thick frame. It had a smooth slick head and crooked, gnarled pointed ears. On its hard face was etched a look of blatant lust or desire, I didnt know which at the time. Its eyes were pure black with no pupils and deep set. Its mouth held a series of jagged and crooked teeth layered in rows, very similar to that of a shark.It was hard guess its size because of the way it crouched, but its hunched back came to the silver dooor handle of my small room. Now one might wonder why I wasnt screaming and yelling hysterically instead of lying there with only a very qick pulse and extremely shallow breathing and I can only figure it was because it had not moved. It sat there in the corner heaving and dripping
steaming drool from its open mouth. Had it made an advance towards me, It probably would have driven me insane, but it only sat there breathing heavily and staring at me. Very suddenly it simply vanished. Gone to somewhere I cant even begin to guess. When it was gone time suddelny seemed to rush around me, to speed up to meet the present as if it had slowed while the beast was present. I remember being exhausted and falling back asleep almost immediatley. The next day I told myself it had been a dream, even though I knew it was as real as the way the sun rose in the morning and set that evening. I guess it was easy for an eight year old to mark it off as a dream. That was the first time it came to me. I didnt see it again for a year. Somewhere around one exact year. I was nine and living in Las Vegas when it happened again, exactly the same. Mother sent me to bed, I fell asleep and woke suddenly to the overpowering smell of blood. It sat In the furthest corner of my room. It just sat and and glared hungrily. Yet again with a quickness, it vanished and I immediatley went back to sleep. The next time it came was almost an exact year later and it happened almost identically to the first two times excpet for one thing. After I woke and saw it crouched in the corner, it stood. Joints and bones cracking with sickening speed, as if it had been holding that postition for centuries and each miniscule movement
garnered a groan of disagreement from its tired body. I realized the thing
stood about 5 feet tall but must have weighed over 250 punds.Thats when I screamed. At least I thought I did. I opened my mouth but no sound came out. I screamed with every ounce of energy and fear I had, but no sound came out. Then it simply vanished and as usual I fell asleep, drained. It came three times in the next two years and each time was the same. The seventh time it came, it stood and then took a step forward. The ninth time; another step. Between the ages of eight and seventeen the beast came around once a year. By the time I was eighteen, it came once a month. Every so often it would take one single, solitary step closer to my bed. I am now twenty four years old. I am scared to sleep. I cant maintain a relationship or hold down a job. I talk to myself almost all the time and people think im crazy. I am. Almost. It comes at least once a week now. And when it comes it crawls along the walls onto the ceiling. It crawls along with a monstrous dexterity until it stops directly above where I sleep. With a deliberate slowness it cranes its neck to look down at me with unbridled hunger and then it dissapears. How many nights do I have left? Soon I know it is going to drop from the ceiling, landing on my bed. Hot drool and rancid blood dripping into my open mouth, already filled with a silent scream. It will tear chuncks of flesh from my arms and chest, grunting and panting. It will look me right in the eyes and then bury its gnashing mouth into my soft abdomen, tearing at the skin, digging and chewing, nestling its grotesque mouth in my intestines and feasting. All while I watch and heave with silent recoils. I know it will happen soon and I cant do
anything to stop it. Its driving me insane.