The Fourth Demon

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic


The story of a man that struggles with daily encounters with three distinct demons. Soon, however, there just may be a fourth.

Submitted: May 18, 2018

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Submitted: May 18, 2018

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One

***

was here. This time, it remained undetectable by sight but nonetheless lurking closely. 

Aaron laid in bed as stiff as a nail, contorting his breathing to make the least noise possible. His pulsing heart throbbed in his ear drums like a kick bass. He knew he was at the mercy of the looming prescense. 

Aaron first felt the demon’s vibes as he swiftly awoke from a lucid dream state. Although it was invisible and nearly inaudible, it carried with it a feeling. A feeling of dread and hopelessness. It's aura seeps through, infecting those present, causing extreme fear and anxiety. Not just normal anxiety. The panic was accompanied by an extremely unpleasant physical feeling. It lit up the spine like a Christmas tree and forced the limbs to flail with bursts of energy ever so often. 

Aaron's only option was to lay still and pray for it to leave. Sometimes it would leave without incident. Sometimes, it would wreak havoc. A demon differs from a ghost with a few exceptions. A demon can . It can not only haunt, but it knows exactly how to manipulate the hypothalamus and create sheer fear and pain accompanied by a lurid sense of hopelessness.  Slow, dreadful moments that resonates with each second. A ghost comes to scare. A demon, however, comes to take

There wasn't a shadow, or a creak or a pop. The demon did not inhabit the room, it was located inside. It can enter one’s mind without trouble. It can infect the brain and use it to it’s advantage. Or, it could simply torment, because that's what demons do. They existed for no other purpose. 

Although Aaron had a decent idea which demon was with him tonight, he could only guess. He has conjured names for them from various online sources born from late night Google searches.  He has been armed with enough knowledge to at least allow himself to get to know of each of the three demons that visit him frequently . This one, the one that cannot be heard or seen, only felt, was Rasgrah. He wasn't the worst, but he was the most unpredictable. Rasgrah can also speak, often in tongues but occasionally in a language that the host can interpret. His deep, other-worldly tone pierces the brain with precision every time he chooses to communicate. 

Sometimes, however, Rasgrah can be violent, menacing even. On a night not too long ago Rasgrah ripped Aaron from his bed not once, twice, but three times. He was anticipating the grip to appear on his ankles just before being pulled from the bed, but it did not come. 

After several minutes that felt like hours, Aaron slowly began to feel the room grow with warmth as the demon departed. Or so he thought. 

Within a blink of an eye, Aaron’s ears began to fill with the demon’s words. 

“Two more days,” it chanted, “Forty-eight hours, and you'll be not just mine, but ours.”

 It came as a whisper but brought the force of a curdling howl. Aaron started breathing heavily now, the anxiety growing, festering. He forced his eyes shut and began to pray to a God that he wasn't so sure was there. Regardless, he hoped that someone or something was listening. 

He didn't dare acknowledge Rasgrah. Instead he remained like a statue, too afraid to move a muscle. It wasn't long after that Aaron realized that he no longer felt the demon in the room. Still, he laid, stiff and poignant. He remained that way for thirty minutes before sleep surprisingly drifting over him, bringing a sense of calm with it. 

 

Two

***

, tired yet aware, sat up in his cot and took in his surroundings. His cell mate was gone, which was unusual. They were still in lock down. Looks like he would have the entire jail cell to himself. He liked that, being an introvert and all. 

He plopped to the ground and scuttled on his shower his shoes. He peered from his cell at the clock behind the security desk. It was almost time for chow. He lacked an appetite but he would have to force feed himself in order to stay strong and healthy. Lacking in either department can mean trouble here in jail. 

The Eastern Regional Jail stood proudly surrounded by barb-wire fences and lazy security guards with smoking habits. The fortress sat quietly just out of town in Martinsburg, West Virginia. ERJ is not the place that you would want to spend your days. The system is highly under-funded and continues to adhere more budget cuts. Luckily for Aaron, his bail will be posted in just a few days. Until then he was stuck here, inside of a cell for 22 hours a day with his relentless demons. What's worse is attempting to hide the evil shits from his cell mate. As a matter of fact, his celly may just be one himself. 

It only took Andrew Sampson a few moments before he described his entire gruesome crime to Aaron, as if he were proud of it. This man spent a few days with his hooker girlfriend on a crack binge in a ragged hotel right here in town. Needless to say, he begged her to give up her profession. When she refused, he beat her to death with his bare hands. Mind you, Andrew was about 6’4” and he topped out at 350 lbs. 

After crushing her skull and dislodging one of her eyeballs, he stuffed her underneath the hotel bed. He spent the next few days finishing his crack supply and spraying Febreze. Three days later he withdrew all of his cash, placed it all on the jail books for future commissary and turned himself in. Andrew enjoyed telling this story. There was a hint of remorse but it was well hidden behind his sadistic demeanor. With all that said, it's safe to say that Aaron was scared shitless. His 160 lb scrawny self would be hopeless if Andrew decided to crush another face with his scabby fists. When he wasn't battling his demons (literally) he spent his time trying to stay on Andrew’s good side. Besides, Aaron only has two more days in this shit hole while Andrew can expect to spend the rest of his life behind bars. He just needed to lay low and pray hard and often

Although it was a dangerous act, Aaron casually sifted through Andrew’s belongings. There was no ill intent involved, he was just curious and bored. Andrew kept all of his belongings under the bottom bunk, which was also his. He had quite a few honeybuns, a few candy bars, some lotion and of course a healthy ration of jail’s finest commodity, Ramen noodles. 

Remaining curious, Aaron flipped the top of the lotion bottle and gave it a drag. It smelled like cucumbers and vanilla. Not bad. He drew a dab of it before replacing it, and rubbed it throughout his dry, cracked hands.  He rubbed a little on his lips in order to remedy his chapped lips. He had officially been here for six days. Unfortunately he missed the commissary order and was left without bare essentials such as chap stick, deodorant and lotion.  He showered as often as he could in order to stifle the odor dwelling in his pits. he thought. He was reminded of the demon’s whispers. What could it mean? One thing he did know was that demon’s don't lie when it comes to anguishing affairs. was coming. He was sure of that. 

Aaron's cell door opened abruptly as Andrew returned to their shared space. Aaron was laying in the top bunk so he was luckily already out of the way. 

“How goes it?” Aaron asked. Andrew sighed as he flopped into his cot.

“Oh nothing, just lawyer bullshit. Reschedule this. Postpone that. Yada fuckin’ ya,” he seemed irritated, but mostly tired. Aaron hoped he would fall asleep before one of the others arrived. The last chow was a few hours ago and they would remain locked down until 7am. Aaron roughly estimated it to be around 10:30pm. One thing that you can't get enough of in jail is sleep. That is, until your cell mate wakes you up as they piss nearly five feet from your face. The bathroom situation was awkward to say the least, especially when it came down to the solid business. 

“Anything go down when I was gone?” Andrew asked. He was obviously making an attempt at small talk. While Aaron wasn't interested, he felt obligated to play along. 

“Yeah, the sunset was beautiful. You should've seen it,” he joked. Surprisingly, Andrew exhaled a deep chuckle. 

“I bet you went to Outback for dinner too, eh?” he responded. 

“Not before checking out the strip club. I had to check on your mom,” Aaron replied. It was a risky joke to make with a psychopath, but he was tired and nonchalant. Andrew burst into a laughing fit. Aaron could feel the bunk shaking as the big man laughed. It felt good to be on his good side. 

Silence fell among them as Aaron drifted in and out of sleep. Several minutes later he felt Andrew get out of his bed. He heard him shuffle through his commissary, most likely in search of a late night honey bun. 

“Hey,” said Andrew suddenly, “Did you go through my shit while I was gone?” he asked. Aaron felt an instant lump in his throat. Here comes the second demon of the day. 

 

Three

***

Aaron lied, “What reason would I have to touch your-” Andrew violently grabs Aaron's hand and pulls it to his nostrils. A wave of recognition on his face transforms to anger. 

I knew it!” he screamed. 

“Whoa.  Andy. Come on man, it was just a little bit of lotion. I haven't gotten commissary and I just-” Andrew reached for Aaron's throat but Aaron quickly bats away his strong arm. 

“You don't get to take whatever you want and get away with it. Especially not from me! Haven't you been listening? Do you know what I'm capable of?!” 

Anger washes over Andrew’s face like a thrashing tidal wave. He tries once more to grab Aaron but he fails. Instead of getting angrier, he seems to flip a switch. He takes a deep breath, “Listen man, I know it's your first time in jail and all, but stealing someone's commissary is a big fat no. You're young, I get it. I was just as entitled when I was your age. The thing is, whether it was a squirt of lotion or a pack of noodles, you can't take whatever you want. Commissary is the only thing we are allowed to possess in here and that makes it way different from the streets.”

He continues to ramble on and on about “the code” and “the law of the land” and if Randy, the pod boss ever found out, he would be made an example of. Andrew went from stark raving mad to giving advice, and now he seemed to be angering himself with each word. He slowly progresses each stage of anger until he is reaching for Aaron again. This time he grabs him and slings him off the bunk onto the cold hard floor. Aaron connects with the cement with an oomph and the air instantly vacated his lungs. 

“I can't believe you would do this kind of shit after knowing my abilities. I could pop your stinking eyes out, do you get that?!” Aaron nods profusely and struggles to regain his breath. Just as the air begins to bless his lungs, Andrew’s stone cold fist connects with his jaw, sending him spiraling into a temporary coma. The lights go out and there's nothing to see or hear. However, the faint smell of cucumbers rests quietly in the background of his senses. 

 

Four

***

in the medical ward of the jail. Slowly, pain invades his nerves as his mind registers the damage to his body. His cheek feels like a balloon and his left eye is swollen shut like a clam hiding a pearl. At least he still has his pearls. His vision, although blurry, slowly reels into focus. The jail nurse walks up to his side and shines a light first in his good eye and then over to the swollen mess on the other side. 

“You took a big hit, I got to tell ya. You're lucky though, you could've been his next victim,” she said, “What'd you do to tick him off? Piss in his oodles o’ noodles?” she asked, hardly expecting a response while laughing at herself. 

“I'm going to be posting bail tomorrow. Will I still be able to leave?” Aaron asked. It was the only thing on his mind. . There are two types of people. Those who thrive in jail and those who die in jail. He was beginning to consider that he belonged to the latter and if he didn't get out soon, he may never see the sun again. he thought. The smell of cucumbers will now leave a permanent panicky scar on his brain and haunt him forever, however long that may be. 

“Listen babe, if you wanna post bail you go right ahead. And if you wanna hang out here with me until you do, that's fine too. I'll hold ya and keep you from going back to the pit with the big bad men that wanna murder ya,” she laughed. 

Relief swam through his mind and body. In a way, he was beginning to think that taking that punch was worth it. If it gets him away from Andrew the crazy crackhead then so be it. He no longer had to sleep in fear or keep one eye opened. No more sour sense of humor that plagued his head. No more worries. Hakuna Matata. Or so he thought. 

 

Five

***

have haunted him ever since he can remember. He is 27 years old and his first memory at the age of 4 consisted of being constantly bitten by the demon he now called Aamon. Encased in a leathery, reptilian skin, Aamon was relentless. He would bite, scratch, peel, punch. The worst of it all was that his wounds never became visible. He couldn't prove to anyone that it was real. Instead he became disowned by two foster families because the struggle with the demons eliminated any sign of a normal child. He became very hard to handle, forcing foster parents to pawn him off to the next lucky family. Fortunately, his third set of parents stuck with him. Helped him even. 

The demons were invisible to everyone but him. That's why the nurse was so calm when Aamon appeared behind her. After all these years, the sight of the demons never became less frightening. The reality of the torment that they bestow becomes a dark gray cloud over his otherwise sunny world. 

Slithering to the left and to the right, Aamon got closer and closer. How was he going to pull this off without the nurse sending him to the crazy ward? The bites and scratches were relentless and undeniable, impossible to ignore. 

Before he could think any further, Aamon sunk his sharp gritty teeth into his forearm, causing him to jerk and nearly fall out of the bed. The nurse quickly turned. “Are you alright babydoll?” She asked. 

Aaron winced with pain. “Im having a charlie horse in my leg. I get them real bad sometimes. I just hate bananas,” he said, mimicking a smile mixed with a wince. 

“Okay baby, I'm gonna go check on the others. Be back soon. If you need anything just hit the button.” 

As soon as she left Aamon splayed his split tongue against Aaron's ear, teasing him. Crunch. Aamon made a meal of his ear, giving Aaron the sensation of it being ripped off while in reality it remained in place. The pain however, was absolutely present. 

He pulled the pillow over his face to stifle his screams as Aamon sent his sharp claws down his side, invisibly rupturing the skin above his rib cage. Only Aaron could see the blood and feel the bleeding. That made it no less real. So much blood. More than usual. 

Aamon stopped right next to Aaron's head and like the previous demon, began whispering. 

Just one more day. One measly day. Are you ready Aaron? Are you?” he cawed cunningly. 

“Ready for what?” Aaron pleaded. Within all his life with these demons, they have never mentioned the days and how close they are or what would happen when they finally arrived. 

That's the point! Not knowing is the key to our success. It all comes down to this Aaron. Soon there will be no more suffering. No more biting. No more whispers. Everything will simply become no more,” Aamon said. 

Aaron felt no comfort from this. Although they've never lied he somehow has trouble believing their validity. Without warning, Aamon’s jaws wrapped themselves around Aaron's bicep, harder than ever before, giving Aaron the sensation of his muscle being torn from his body. 

The pillow slipped from his grip and it no longer silenced the blood curdling screams. Within seconds the nurse rushed back. He looked at his arm which was fully intact of course. He glanced around the room with increasing anxiety. Aamon, however, was gone. Without a moment of awareness, Aaron fainted, falling into a brief but serene sleep. 

Regardless of how terrible Aamon’s torturous appointments were, and although the bite to his bicep was by far the worst, it was also the last one he would ever receive. 

 

Six

***

that the presence of demons proves that there is a Hell, just as angels validate Heaven. However true, there is no denying that demons can make life before death excruciatingly painful, therefore bringing hell to life. If you can feel the flames of hell while still alive, whose to say you can't experience Heaven as well? As long as there is breath in your lungs and a beat in your chest, you will always face the dilemma of good and evil and pain and peace. Yet even when faced with the most dire circumstances that hell has to offer, our basic instinct is to simply We look evil in the eye and wish to exonerate it from existence. However, where there is good and divine, pain and suffering will always lurk close by, waiting to extinguish the fire inside your soul. It's up to you to kindle the flame. 

If you're lucky enough to fight amongst the angels, you might become just as lucky and defeat evil for good. Regardless, it will just move on to the next person and continue the cycle. It will always exist. Or will it? Will good one day succeed in defeating evil? If so, what then? What comes after the fight? It just so happens that the previously unfortunate Aaron Kavernick is cusped on the brink of finding out. 

 

Seven

***

 

in a slumber once again. After gaining his bearings he realized he was still in the hospital ward. Only now, he was strapped down, his arms securely tightened at his sides and his legs bound together, strapped to the gurney. He pulled for leverage with his arms and received none. he thought. 

He remained subdued and alone for nearly an hour before he received his first guest. It was the head honcho of Corrections, Officer Wade. 

 

 

 

Eight

***

 

Nine

***

 

 

Ten

***

 

 

Eleven

***

 

 

Twelve

***

 

 

Thirteen

***


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