\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1786062-The-Demon-With-The-Familiar-Face
Item Icon
Rated: E · Other · Family · #1786062
A short story written for Hawk's Vocabulary Extravaganza.
**ALL DEFINITIONS AT THE END OF THE STORY**

The Demon With The Familiar Face


There is a demon that hides under my skin. He whispers to me while I sit in my new room, in my new house, in my new city, in my new state. In my new life, slowly he cracks my epidermis. He says his name is Judas, he says his name is Peter, he says his name is Jesus, he says his name is Lucifer, he says his name is Budda and Hitler and Martin and Stalin. He says his name is Emily. I call him nothing. It is difficult to hide a possession when your demon is half of you. We sit in silent conversation all night. I clench my fists until the nails cut into my palms and try with all my might to kill him. He laughs at me, and tries to take control. When our conversation is audible, it is a tortured soliloquy1 that only the walls can give testament to. As dawn approaches I slowly beat him back, hide the fire within behind peace signs across torso, around wrists. I eventually venture out into the world and buy a knife. The cashier stares at me oddly as I walk up to the counter and place the sharp instrument gently, tenderly down. I can see the questions form above her head, they look like the strips you find in fortune cookies but paler, less permanent. I meet her eyes as she reaches for the slim box. Her senseless babble of greetings and polite questions dies as suddenly a suicide bomber. I see her recoil, and her complacent good humor melt into pure, untainted fear. I wonder if she's seen something in my eyes, of what lurks beneath the pseudo-hippie attire and half smile. When I catch my expression in the metal panel behind her, I understand her sudden fear. My face is crumpled in an expression of both complete apathy, and yet, complete hatred, the mouth casually positioned, the nose wrinkled, and my eyes... My eyes glare like two chasms of unknowable depth and age, the brows drawn in a severe line over them. My body is tensed as though I am preparing to spring over the counter and destroy her. To tear into flesh and sample the sweet nectar of her blood. I look more than irascible2. I look evil. I rearrange my features into an apologetic expression and mutter an excuse. I avert my demon eyes which give me away. I know she doesn't believe me, as she gingerly hands me the knife, safely encased in several layers of wrapping. Her fear follows me like a stench out of the store, To me her lingering terror reeks of comedy. I know my humor is dark, as it is witzelsucht3. I do not care. In this world of darkness I delight in whatever sunlight is left to me. As I walk out of the hardware store, I stop trying to control him. In the fires of the Indiana sun, he is home. I miss the cool rain of Seattle that dimmed his anger, and removed his taint. The fat raindrops washed away my shame and guilt. Hurt. I thought by confronting him, showing him he could not control me, I would be free. Now I find myself pandering to his preference. I agree with his words. I swallow his excuses and misconceptions like a draught. The night comes and I play with the knife. An Indiana thunderstorm rises outside. The thunder calls to me, and I climb to my roof. I let the rain drench me, and my demon washes away. For a few precious moments, in that driving rain that takes my breath away, I am myself again. I want to run away from this place. From the heat and the the desolation and the three empty bottles of Canada Dry Whiskey I found in the oven. I want to stay and fight. If I do I'll lose. I vacillate4. All I know for sure is that I want to be struck by lightning. I slowly descend, and slide back in my window, dripping, and lay down on my bed. My eyes flutter closed, and I slip off to sleep. This night brings solace, but I know my demon will return tomorrow, when I smell the drink on him, when I hear his voice and when I see my face reflected at me in the eyes of my father.

Definition of words (As I found them on dictionary.com)
1) Soliloquy:an utterance or discourse by a person who is talking to himself or herself or is disregardful of or oblivious to any person present (often used as a device in drama to disclose a character's innermost thoughts)
2) Irascible: easily provoked to anger; characterized by anger
3) Witzelsucht: especially facetiousness and inappropriate or pointless humor, especially when considered as part of an abnormal condition
4) Vacillate: to waver in mind or opinion, to be indecisive
© Copyright 2011 Eva Romani (thememilycee at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1786062-The-Demon-With-The-Familiar-Face