Demons
How can you trust yourself? How do you feel like you know what’s going on? It’s
so obvious to everyone that you’re losing control. You’re making decisions, and they’re
getting worse and worse. The choices you making are pushing you closer and closer to the
edge. Your mistakes are piling up around you. What’s your excuse? Fighting internal
demons? To be blunt, you’re fucked. Monsters, they’re real. They don’t just dwell inside
your head. They live, they feed off of fear. They travel, they run through the minds of
many. Sometimes, when they find someone weak enough, they stay there. They rest. Your
mind, it’s the weak link. You’ve ruined yourself. What you think is hell now, you’ve got
no idea. Just wait, wait for it to get worse. Soon, you’ll be sitting in an asylum, screaming
into the night. What you’ll see, it’s real, it’s as real as the air you breathe. No one will
believe you, because you’re much to weak, you opened yourself up for it. You get to live
with the consequences. Congratulations, welcome to your own personal nightmare.
Could you change the way you think if you tried? Probably not. You know how
when you were younger, you’d see something and it would scare you? And after you saw,
or heard something that scared you a little bit, your mind would make up images, that
were way worse than the original frightening thing. That’s the beauty of the human mind,
it creates your nightmares, it’s self-destructive. It brings your fears to life. That’s how
monsters are created.
I don’t think you could even start to understand. The way your heart pounds in
your chest, the way your palms begin to sweat. People think people are scary, they’ve got
no idea. Demons, demons are scary. What’s terrifying is that it’s the people that create
them. And the fear that you have, the fear that you can feel, the building painful feeling in
your stomach, that only makes it worse. When your heart starts racing, and your pupils
dilate, and you start to fear for your life, that’s how monsters win.
The shadows, I always thought that they were the worst. The dark reaping shapes,
they were silent. They never touched me, they never made a sound. That’s what was
scary. They were silent, they didn’t do anything. It was just the fact that they were there.
Their presence, seeping into the walls. You could just sense it. The room would feel
colder, your hands would become clammy. I’d reassure myself, that they weren’t real, that
it was just my imagination, but what can you do? When the mind is so immaculate, how
can you tell the difference between reality and fiction?
It was definitely unnatural. The shadows, they followed me. I could tell. I
couldn’t always see them, but I knew they were always present. I knew they were always
close by. Just silently watching. Just the fact that they were there, it made me fearful. I
could feel my life being sucked out of me, second by second. It was as if the darkness,
was slowly sinking into my mind. That’s when it started, I believe. The shadows. They
still scare me worse than anything else. I’d rather die a thousand horrid deaths than have
to wait, have to wonder why the shadows were there. What really ate away at me was the
curiosity, the imaginative ideas I came up with. They hadn’t done anything yet, but they
were obviously evil, it was making me paranoid.
That’s when you could say it started. The fear. It was consuming. It was self
obliterating. It was worse than any pain imaginable. Living in fear, day after day. I’d be
doing a simple task, someone would make a loud noise and I’d jump out of my seat or
scream. I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t as if it was by choice. I could feel the darkness, it was
like a cloud, looming over head. One day it wasn’t there, and the next, it was. It stayed,
like a storm cloud, it didn’t rain, nothing happened at first. The sky was just dark, and I
could sense the upcoming disaster. I could taste it in the air, I could feel it with every
breath I took. Rattling in my lungs, the air felt heavier, darker, more malicious. There was
nothing I could do but wait, and I knew that whatever I was waiting for was worse than
the darkness, worse than the shadows. I knew it wanted me to suffer.
Time passed, and I could still sense the shadows. Their presence became
undeniable. I couldn’t just shrug it off as lack of sleep anymore. At the point of
acceptance, it got worse. I started hearing things. At first, they weren’t exactly words. At
first, it was just melodies. Creepy, but not painful. The shadows still loomed in the
background, their presence was unwelcome, but still bearable. For the most part, I
ignored the melodies. They sounded ancient, godly. The way it played, through my head
scared me more than the shadows. I could tell, that I was the only one who could hear it.
At this point, I decided I should probably seek medical help.
I was convinced that I was going crazy. I went to see my doctor, an old nice man,
who went by Johnson. The words ‘I think I’m going insane’ were hardly out of my mouth
before he started laughing. He wrote me a prescription for sleeping pills after hearing my
story, drew some blood and told me ‘Crazy people don’t know they’re crazy.’ What I was
experiencing, I knew it wasn’t normal. Normal people are not often followed by dark
entities, they do not hear singing voices inside of their heads. The words of the songs, I
am sure I didn’t make up. Some odd language, that sounds deep, dark and ancient.
It was the smell of burning flesh that confirmed my worries. Either I was going crazy, Or some type of demon was plaguing my soul. I’d never been one who believed in
the spiritual aspects of life. So I of course assumed that it was my mind. It had to be. The
sleeping pills should have kept me sleeping throughout the night, but I awoke. The smell
of burning flesh so strong in the air that I could taste it. I gagged, stumbled out of bed and
through the house. Shadows were swirling, patterns that were not average. I could feel it,
like smoke. They were drifting, lazily around me. The melodies played loud in my head,
growling voices, dark songs of ancient times. I could feel my heart beating in my chest, it
felt as if it was going to explode out of my chest. And then I felt it, a hand. It ran across
my face, nails digging lightly into the flesh. Slipping down to my throat, and gripping it
tightly.
I could feel the air, building around me, thicker and thicker. My lungs were
begging for release. The pressure on my throat just got worse and worse. My vision was
blurring. I could feel my pulse pounding in my head as my hands clawed at the air in front
of me. It was my first encounter with the demon.
