Demon
Amanda Cochran
The quiet night was pierced with the shrill cries of a young girl and the ferocious snarls of some feral beast. You could hear the thrashing, the screams of terror, and the snapping of massive jaws. Suddenly, seemingly coming as the girl’s savior, the first few rays of the sun splayed out in glorious pursuit of the night’s terror.
The heavy pads of the monster fleeing were muffled on the early spring’s soft ground. The woods were all quiet except for the gasping and whimpers of the small child.
She looked about, eyes glassy with fear and pain, her small chest heaving and seeping with blood. Her vision went in a fevered cycle of light and darkness that seemed to tease her.
Black and bright.
Black and bright.
Her little chest went from heaving, to small, sharp gasps for air like a fish out of water. She cried for her mother, she cried for God, but she was only answered with pain and the malicious phases of fevered darkness. In her stages of consciousness, the light between the budding trees pierced her blurred vision. The chirps and chatters or woodland creatures waking up from their winter slumbers made her head throb. The light perfumes of blooming flowers mixed with the heavy odor of gore, stifling her nose. Hot, sticky blood seeped between her fingers, but she could only lay there in a muffled whirl of fear and confusion.
Suddenly, a silhouette blackened her vision as it looked down on her.
An angel? The little girl tried to speak, but as she tried to lift her head a sharp spear of pain pierced her skull and her vision blurred.
She was encompassed again by darkness.
When she awoke again, the silhouette was kneeling next to her. She whimpered and tried to reach out to it, but it flinched and shied away, unsure. She tried to give a small smile, but it turned into a pained grimace and her tiny chest heaved even more. She wanted Mommy and her hugs and kisses. She never should have wandered too far; Mommy always scolded her for doing so and she should have listened. Tears blanketed her hot cheeks and she whimpered at another wave of pain.
Blackness came again.
Elspeth woke to the silhouette shaking itself, darting upright, and beginning to trudge away. The child’s pale mouth uttered unintelligible moans, trying to get the silhouette to come back, and attempted to reach out to it.
She cried out in pain as the many injuries were pulled across the forest’s mulch.
Why was she not in heaven yet? Was the angel not here to take her away?
Blackness.
The numbness of the dark was penetrated by light accompanied by more agony. Was she moving? Was Mommy rocking her? Dazed, she looked up, and instead of Mommy, she saw the angel cradling her in its arms. Were they flying? Her head lolled slightly and she could see that, no, they were not flying but walking.
Blackness.
The cool sensation on her forehead woke her up. Her labored breathing was muffled by the low ceiling and walls of a tent made of thatched sticks and leaves. Through fevered eyes, she could see that the angel was patting her forehead with a wet cloth. She could also see bloodied cloths that were heaped in a pile. She mumbled to the angel until her eyelids grew heavy and she was in darkness again.
For a while only fevered consciousness, the angel tending to her, and the constant hammer of blackness were the only things the girl experienced. When her fever finally relented, she was able to stay awake longer; she caught short glimpses of her guardian angel. Her angel did not have the pretty and soft face that was always shown in paintings and church murals, but rather a mean-looking face that seemed to be constantly fretting. Her eyes were a dull green and her hair was a shaggy brown muddled with dirt and leaves. The girl did not mind.
She had her angel and she was safe.
Her wounds gradually healed and she was able to sit up again. She had screamed and cried when she first saw how badly she was hurt: deep and ragged gashes along her body-- one of which went down to the bone on her thigh-- bite marks around her waist, and multiple bruises and slashes from being thrown and beaten about. Her angel had wrapped those wounds in old pieces of cloth and had made sure that the girl did not see them again until they were better. When she was finally well enough to speak understandably, the girl introduced herself as Elspeth, but her angel only responded with an emotionlessly blank stare.
Elspeth liked her angel, although her angel was silent.
Elspeth chirped on and on, happily filling the silence with stories of home and regular childish banter. Her angel would sometimes seem to be ignoring her, but Elspeth could tell that she was listening by how her brow twitched in confusion. Some nights, Elspeth would peek through the tent’s makeshift bark door and watch her angel sitting by the fire. As the fire flickered around her shadows, the angel looked perfectly magical, almost like the princesses that Elspeth had dreamed of and danced with inside her mind.
One night, Elspeth’s angel went inside her tent before the sun set and delivered food as usual, but then she disappeared. When this happened, Elspeth panicked and her heart quickened when she saw that her angel wasn’t by the fire. Where was she? Would she come back? What if that thing shows up again? She couldn’t run though; all she could do was lie limply, unable even to pull her sore limbs together into a comforting huddle.
She had cried herself to sleep and awoke to her angel crouching over her again with an even more concerned look than usual. Elspeth cried out of relief and reached out to embrace her angel, but the angel flinched away, eyeing her coldly. Elspeth put her hands to her face and sobbed and hiccupped into them, overcome with gladness and slight embarrassment. She was being silly for thinking that she could touch an angel.
The angel did her usual inspection on Elspeth’s body with even more serious attention and appeared to be relieved when nothing new appeared. Elspeth watched her, her eyes drinking up the comforting sight of her angel’s presence. She appeared to be freshly bathed. Her clothes had changed too. Elspeth asked if she had gone back to Heaven to tell God how Elspeth was doing and was answered with her angel briefly looking at her and promptly striding out of the tent. Elspeth smiled contently.
She had such a good angel.
That evening, when her angel came back to deliver dinner, Elspeth grabbed her hand and asked if she was going to leave again. Her angel froze and her eyes darted out of the tent to look at the sky. Elspeth hung her head. She was being selfish. Of course her angel had to go see God and she was keeping her from riding the sun’s rays to Heaven-- that’s how Mommy said Daddy got there. Elspeth released her angel’s hand and she quickly darted out of the tent without a second glance.
The next morning, Elspeth was woken by a sigh and looked up to see her angel looking relieved after another checkup. She was even cleaner today and she had changed into the clothes she wore the night before, except now they were also washed clean. Elspeth smiled brightly at her angel; she knew she’d come back. Elspeth told her angel not to worry; the monster wouldn’t dare touch her while she had an angel taking care of her. Again, her angel ignored her and tramped out of the tent.
Months passed by in this manner: her angel leaving for a couple nights and coming back the next morning “clean as a whistle,” as Mommy would say. She only did this a couple nights out of the month though, so Elspeth never was too worried. Plus, God turned the moon into a big round nightlight to comfort her while her angel was talking to Him.
After a while, Elspeth’s bruises were all nearly gone and her wounds were either healing or scabbed. By mid-summer, she was more than stir-crazy. Her angel seemed to think she was well enough to walk and had brought her a thick stick, motioning for Elspeth to use it as a crutch. At first, Elspeth wavered and collapsed into a heap and cried out of pain and frustration; she wanted out of that tent now. Her angel only crouched down next to her, looked at her sternly, and sharply pointed at the stick. Elspeth snuffled and looked down at her hands in shame. She was a big girl now; she couldn’t just start crying like a baby, especially in front of her angel! It took a few more excruciating tries, but she finally figured out how to maneuver about by putting her weight on her good leg and avoiding brushing her injured thigh against her crude cane.
She beamed at her angel.
Her angel nodded in approval and signaled for Elspeth to hobble out of the tent; she slowly did as she was told and blinked against the sunlight. She felt its warm glimmer touch her skin, and she laughed so rapturously that she almost fell again, but her angel gently caught her with ease. As her angel helped prop her upright again, Elspeth looked up at her and jabbered on about being happy and thankful and excited and how pretty the woods looked today and how happy God must be right now seeing her walking and proud that her leg was hurting her but she didn’t even cry one bit. Her angel was bent over, gently supported her with one hand and prodding her with another to a fallen log by the fire. Elspeth gingerly sat down, chattering all the way -- save for when she was concentrating on sitting.
When Elspeth was catching her breath from the newly invigorating work, her angel was stoking the fire and was preparing dinner, her eyes darting to the sky. Elspeth hesitated but her curiosity got the better of her and she asked her angel if she was going to visit God again tonight. Her angel seemed to not hear her so Elspeth asked again. Her angel said nothing again, so Elspeth took it as a “yes.” She sighed and mulled over her thoughts in the silence that was only filled by the crackling fire and the gurgling of the adjacent stream.
The rest of the forest was eerily quiet.
Elspeth shrugged it off and just assumed that all the forest animals had all gone to bed early. Besides, her angel was there so nothing bad could happen. When her curiosity got the better of her, she cautiously asked, “Can you ask God when I can see Mommy again? I know I’m safe, but she doesn’t, and I miss her a lot…” Elspeth looked at her angel with hopeful eyes; her angel finally looked up from her deep concentration over dinner when she heard Elspeth’s sad tone.
Her eyes flickered from Elspeth’s hopeful eyes and grew wide when they saw the sky. She darted upright and gestured for Elspeth to get up quickly, much to Elspeth’s dismay. She wanted to see the sunset, and it wasn’t too far off.
Plus, she wanted to see her angel ride the sunrays to Heaven.
Her angel’s gestures began to get more frenzied and she started to gently, but sternly, push Elspeth into getting up. Her frantic movements and panicked eyes frightened Elspeth, and her little heart quickened as she sidled up and propped herself on her cane. She started to totter back to the tent, but it wasn’t fast enough, and her angel desperately pushed her, causing Elspeth to wobble. She unsteadily caught her balance and together she and her angel eventually reached the tent. Elspeth, feeling relieved, smiled up at her panicked angel and waved her on, saying that she didn’t want her to be late meeting God; He might get worried. Her angel gave her one last prod to get into the tent, made a motion for her to stay, and bound towards the creek.
Elspeth hesitated climbing back into the tent: she didn’t want to stay. She wanted to watch her angel ride up to heaven. She wanted to ask God when she would see her Mommy. But most of all, as she looked deep into the darkening forest and didn’t hear a single sound, she wanted to be protected. It was just like that night when that thing came.
She felt guilty, but her fear got the better of her and she disobeyed her angel. She steadied herself and started to move towards her angel.
Towards protection.
She tried to hobble quickly after her angel but lost balance and fell on her cane, which cut into her injured thigh, causing her to scream in pain. Her angel quickly whipped around to see what happened but she slipped on a wet rock and fell with a thud, making Elspeth cry out again.
Elspeth grabbed her cane in determination and carefully hobbled over to her angel. She was unconscious. Elspeth stood on her good leg and tried to pull her angel to the tent, but it was too much weight and she was already clumsy with her out of practice and injured limbs. Worried, Elspeth took one of her wound’s cloths, drenched it in the creek’s water, and mopped her angel’s head wound. She hummed softly, trying to help her angel feel better; she was determined to protect her angel as her angel had protected her. She looked up at the setting sun, closed her eyes in prayer to tell God where His angel was and to ask for help, but the day’s exhaustion got ahead of her and she fell asleep next to her angel.
Elspeth awoke with a start and saw that her angel wasn’t there. First, she sighed in relief that God had found her angel, but then she heard a malicious snarl behind her.
She gasped and whipped around to see it.
She screamed as loud as her little lungs would allow her and tried to gather her cane, but the monster pounced at her with snapping teeth. It latched onto her small arm and bit down, cracking bone. A shrill shriek erupted from Elspeth’s throat and the monster’s ears pinned against its head. It whipped its massive head and threw Elspeth a few yards away.
Elspeth sobbed and cried for her angel’s help.
God had made the moon full and bright as her usual comfort, but tonight it only revealed the horror of the monster.
Its eyes shone in the moonlight and its shaggy fur bristled along its back. It looked like one of the stray dogs back home but was bigger than a horse, and its snarling teeth were bigger than Elspeth’s fist.
They were dripping in her blood.
Elspeth sobbed in fear and agony. Where was her angel? Did she run away in fear? Did she run for help? Before she could think of the answer, the monster snarled and dove at Elspeth, pinning her down with its massive paws and cracking her ribs. It growled and she felt its hot breath on her cheeks. It bit down again and Elspeth heard something tear followed by sheer and vivid agony all up her right side. It bounded off of her, cracking more ribs.
She tried to cry out for her Mommy, but she couldn’t breathe. She looked to the monster that was bent over and saw its dull green eyes and its shaggy brown fur-
Elspeth started and wheezed.
Her angel.
Why, God? What happened to our angel? Her angel was supposed to be protecting, not hurting her. What was wrong? She cringed with anguish both from her wounds and betrayal. Her angel, who had helped her and protected her, was the one who hurt her in the first place.
A sob in her throat turned into a gurgle. Her mouth tasted like copper, but it was nothing to the agony pulsating through her body with every flickering heartbeat.
The monster slowly turned and cocked its head, wondering why Elspeth was still alive.
No matter.
And then, final and complete blackness.
