Okay! So I tried my hand at a kind of sad creepy kind of story... I honestly don't know how it turned out, but that's because I'm the writer. Anyways, these sad things usually aren't my thing, I'm more into funny silly kind of stuff, but wanted something different.
Demons are my worst fear... Ever. I mean, they are the most freakiest things to me. I don't even know for sure if they exist or not. But all these exorcism-type movies coming out, with all this freaky demon stuff, I've been really creeped out. Like everytime a commercial for a scary movie comes on, I scream and run out of the room. I can handle crimes, and rapists, and freaky stalkers, and killers that run around... killing people. But demons. Nooooooo... Dude.. Ahem, I am babbling now. Anyways, enjoyy!
They are the scariest thing in existence… They aren't yet proven real, but many claim to have come across them. They are evil, an unseen terror. They are the reason why you always wear your crucifix, why the bible is tucked underneath your pillow, why you pray every night to a god that might not exist. They send chills down your spine, like someone raking their nails across a dusty chalkboard, that awful feeling you get from hearing your roommate grind his teeth during the cold dark restless night. They send goosebumps down your skin, like tiny little insects crawling about inside of your body, itching and scratching at you, grating along your insides as you scream bloody murder, beg to cease to exist. Possessive awful creatures, they are.
Demons. You've heard of them in movies, books, anywhere. Sometimes people illustrate them. Hideous knockoffs of the devil himself. Wretchedly hideous. Horrendously ugly. But I'm always so sure each demon is actually very beautiful. Like a devious serpent, lovely colorful designs, intricate scales represent just a little part of that snake like a wrinkle upon a wise old man's forehead. I'm sure if I ever saw I demon, I'd know it the second I saw it. And I think I know now.
I Nate River, am really just better known as Near. That's my name now, how I am addressed. And sometimes I feel like I'm possessed by one of these demonic creatures. And I know he's a beautiful one. He could be mistaken for a golden angel, but I know better. He knows better too. He's evil and he lurks in the shadows waiting for me to allow my guard to drop. And sometimes he doesn't wait.
And I always knew he hated me. Despised me.
Oh, you bet I know this for a fact. I've seen this demon, everyday actually, and he leers at me when I walk past. I try not to notice, because it's been said if you pay a demon any mind, it will only get stronger. This doesn't seem to work for my possessor, he just becomes even more angry with me.
When my demon is furious, he doesn't sprout horns and vicious fangs, he will pin me down and hurt me until I give him the attention he craves. And as it has been said, he really does get stronger. He feeds off of the attention. Off of me. Until he is a glowing form of power. In this form he takes me as he pleases, sometimes he uses a weapon, sometimes his fist, sometimes his entire body. Sometimes clothes are shed, sometimes tears. But always blood is shed. Whether the demon is wreaking havoc inside of me, or pounding me into a pulp, there will always be blood shed. It cannot be helped. The human body bleeds.
My demon likes the taste of blood. He will lick me clean of all my wounds, as if cleansing me of my sins, warm wet muscle of a tongue pressed deeply into my injuries, lapping up blood wherever it may be. This is no cleansing. The mere thought of it makes me laugh scornfully. This process used to frighten me, but now, I just wait for my demon to leave before scrubbing myself clean. Clean of all germs, and toxic venom the creature may have left behind. Sometimes I fear he will turn me into a wretched monster such as himself.
Sometimes my possessor bites. Perhaps a branch off of his blood favoring, or just a way to mark me, I am never sure, perhaps both. Sometimes they are just nips, sometimes there are scars left behind. Perfect crescent moon shapes appear all over my body, I could count them, but a lot of them are where I cannot see.
I've been stuck with this demon ever since I moved into my new home. Like a punishment for leaving my dying family behind…
I once got away from my demon. Or rather, he decided to leave me. I was free of his wretched enslavement!
But not for long... Years later, he had found me once more, to destroy me from the inside out again. I should have known I wouldn't be free for long. But this time, there was a different look in his eyes. The usual sinful, lustful haze glazed over those shining blue orbs as always, but something… needy, something loving in those eyes too. Should I be so bold as to wonder if my demon missed me, perhaps? Maybe….
Rester and Gevanni were there to protect me, as well as Lidner. But foolishly, I had asked them to leave.
You may ask why, you may wonder… Even I will always wonder why I let my old possessor come in and take me. The demon had his little slave in his evil clutches once more and I didn't fight.
And I'll always wonder why I didn't fight. It might have upset him because I did not do this, but I'm not sure if he really cared. Normally he would, but today was different. Something was different.
My demonic creature, now a criminal to no one's surprise, lay me down on the chilled marble tile and did to me what was expected of him, being the demonic brute he was…
But…
But he was gentle. Why? Soft caresses were delivered to my face, rather than a stinging slap or lash. Delicate kisses to my neck, rather than vicious lacerations sinking into my skin. There were tender strokes up and down my back, rather than nails raking up and down my spine. Were these attempts to comfort me? Me? His slave, his bitch, his personal marionette? His limp, weak little porcelain doll he always wished to smash, to taint, to kill?
During, my demon had tried to please me as well, stroking up every little inch of my length over and over until I released, and when he had finished, he pulled out gently and then hugged me tightly, tears leaking out of his eyes and rolling down his pockmarked face, a flowing waterfall of sadness.
The demonic blonde then whispered, "Goodbye." He rose, and then, after putting on his clothes, he once more leaned down. A gentle press of the lips were all we exchanged before he left.
I never saw my demon again.
And it was then, had I realized what I had lost. I suppose you don't appreciate the things you truly love until they are all gone.
I realized that day, that I loved my demon. I didn't see him as a bestowment of evil, but a gift. Not just a demon, but an angel as well. And to this day, I hope, I pray, that that devious angel is alright and alive. Or sometimes that not-so-naïve part of me, has hopes that he will be looking down on me from a heaven that should exist, only for him. I hope he will be watching, loving me, as I loved him. My angelic demon… My Mello.
SAAAP! ^-^ Yay! xDD Well, I hope you liked it... :D
Feedback and critiques are greatly loved!