Demonized

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
(Short story for creative writing)
A young girl Joyce questions her fate in God, seeing that the Lord has cursed her with the life she's currently living. Questioning her fate seems to have dire consequences...

Submitted: February 07, 2013

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Submitted: February 07, 2013

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This mass was never going to end. After going to church for as long as I can remember, and hearing the same stories over and over, the words of the priest start to get more and more bland. The books from the bible seem to be so exciting and exploding with adventure, but when they’re told, they aren’t so great. Today we’ve been discussing the story of Jonah; you know, got swallowed by a giant fish for not listening to God and all. I find it hard to believe considering God loves his children unconditionally, yet, he induces so much pain upon them. Everyone sitting in this church must think about it in the back of their mind, I can’t be the only one. If God is so loving and forgiving, why does he force us to live out these terrible lives instead of being up in heaven, being held in his arms? The more I think about it, the less of a believer I become. Maybe I’d have a stronger faith if he would actually bless me with an adventure, just something to keep me busy.


“I don’t want to hear that nonsense, Joyce,” My mother barked at me from the front seat, “God loves us all, you know that.”

I fumbled with my thumbs and stared down to my hands, my forehead in a crease and my lips in a slight pout, “You can’t just hear me out on this one? I bet Dad would.” Honestly, he wouldn’t have listened either. She just hated when I mentioned him; he’s the whole reason we left Massachusetts in the first place. I think she knew he wouldn’t have listened either, because I could see that stupid little grin on her face in the car mirror.


When we had gotten home, I found myself immediately darting toward the stairs and up to my room. Without a word, I closed the door behind me with an unintended slam and flopped belly first onto the bed. After all the school work, outside activities, and church it was good to just lie down and relax without anything buzzing in my ear. And within about five minutes, I had fallen into a coma-like slumber.

By the time I had woke, it was already the middle of the night. Two thirty AM, read the clock at my bedside. Fantastic, I thought to myself, prepare for a sleepy monday. I rolled onto my back and sat up in the bed, balling my fists and rubbing them viciously on to my eyes; attempting to wash the sleep from them. By the time I was finished, my vision was blurred and I was seeing stars. I lay back down in my bed and stare to the ceiling, confused by the monstrous sight I was now enduring.

I didn’t know what it was, and honestly, I don’t think God himself would be able to either. The thing glared down at me with a venomous smile, it’s dark face mocking and demonic. It was small, probably half my size, and was gripping onto what seemed to be invisible chains at his hands and feet; slowly railing itself down from the ceiling and straight toward me. My heart was already slumping down into my stomach and I could feel a warm sensation down in my jeans; urine seeping down slightly into my bed sheets. The thing seemed to like that, for it let out a girl like snicker and it’s body heaved up and down as it stopped; it’s ugly face only inches from mine. I could feel it’s breath, it’s sickening breath. I could see the devil past that lie behind it’s black beaded eyes. I could smell its scent, the disgusting odor of rotting flesh and the sweet-sour aroma of freshly drew blood. I didn’t know what to do; what could I do? Wait for death? Was it wanting to kill me? Why had it stopped? Why was it looking at me with that torturous smirk? The questions flew through my brain and I opened my mouth, squealing an ear piercing sound and starting to scream for my mother. Surprisingly, the thing didn’t move an inch. In a way, i’m glad it didn’t move. When it moved, it’s body would coil and move in a snake like motion, a disturbing way. It’s spinal cord protruding from it’s back, it’s skin so tight it seemed with every jerk of a muscle it would break and all it’s insides would spew onto me. I closed my eyes to an extent, only squinting now up at the thing that was swaying above me.

And, finally, my mother appeared.

She had flicked on the light switch beside the door and spun toward me, her eyes wild and what seemed to be actually afraid. She didn’t move from the doorway, but instead, stared at me in a slight awe, “What did you do? You sound like you were being murdered!” Could she possibly be angry? Couldn’t she see the thing that was causing my panic?

No, infact, I couldn’t even see that thing. It had vanished. I stared at my mother, panting and my chest heaving, sweat rolling down from my temples and down the edge of my cheek bone. I tried to speak to her, but no words could form; the only thing that came out of my mouth was a strange gurgling sound, as if I had been stabbed in the lung. Her eyes were wide and full swimming with terror, and I could see why. I must’ve looked like a person in a looney bin.

“Joyce, it was just a dream,” My mother murmured from the doorway. I shook my head frantically, still unable to talk and my fingers clawing at the sheets of the bed. She placed her index finger onto the light switch, turned the lights off, and closed the door behind her as she found her way back to the own room.


The stench of urine was burning my nostrils but I lie in bed, motionless and awe struck. The thing had been too realistic to be a simple figment of my imagination. It has struck all my senses like a brick, there was no way in hell that I could’ve dreamed that up on my own. I know I didn’t. It was impossible.


I didn’t go to school that day. By the time I had drifted into an uneasy sleep, my alarm clock was rumbling and shrieking beside me within minutes. Instead of the usual snooze button, I leaned over the smacked the off button.

At about nine thirty, my mother had walked in and had a complete fuss over the mess of the sheets I had made. My room wrenched of multiple different body odors and the heat coming off from my body alone was making it twice as bad. But, I allowed her to rant on and on until I had wandered into the bathroom, undressed right in front of her, and plopped myself into the empty bath. I could feel her cold eyes on me as I leaned forward slowly, turning the water knob to the coolest temperature I could stand and allowing the water to pour onto my legs. When she had finally left for work, I still sat in the bath, my mind stirring with simple nothings.

“What was that?” I mumbled to myself, “Am I seeing things? Schtsofrenic girl, is that what I am?” I lifted my hand from the water and started beating myself with my palm; the skin of my face making sharp, wet sounds against my hand, my eyes starting to swell with forming tears. My body jolted suddenly and I sat back up into a straight position, both hands no together and my head in a bow, “O Lord, In this time of need, strengthen me. You are my strength and my shield; You are my refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble...” I honestly couldn’t remember the rest of prayer but I continued on, chanting whatever came to mind, “Oh, all mighty Lord, give me help and guidance. I’m sorry to have doubted my faith to you, and oh Lord, please rid me of these demons in which have found their way into my soul. Oh please Lord, help-” Shrieking. Shrieking of what seemed to be a deranged hiena, mixed with a woman enduring child birth. Shrieking that would make Jesus Christ himself curl up inside. Shrieking in which makes my insides curl, my stomach knot, my heart drop into a world of nothing. The water beneath me began to ripple in sync with the trembling of my body, my head jerking from side to side to find the cause of this horrific sound. The thing, THAT thing, stood clear in the door way; it’s feet flat on the ground and it’s hands outstretched behind itself; it’s cruel hands clinging onto the doorway as it leaned forward, leaned toward me. I scattered through out the tub, pinning myself to the wall with my hands covering my chest and my knees pressed against my stomach. The water swished back and forth, partially sliding over the edge of the tub and to the feet of the monster. It starred at me, it’s tongue gliding from each corner of it’s mouth and it’s black lifeless eyes widening at me. It had the eyes of a spider, a great white shark, a corpse; eyes full of nothing and left emotionless. I clutched at the cross had hang down from my neck and began to mutter the words at as fast a pace as possible, “God, in this time of need, please give me the strength to claim what is mind: my happiness, my sanity, my life. Oh, Lord, give me stength.”

The thing’s back flung up against the wall, it’s body wriggling and squirming, as if it were being strangled by an invisible being. The sound that left it’s jagged teethed mouth was that of a baby’s cry, helpless and pityful. My fingers clung to my cross harder. “God, my faith lies with you. Guide me to the place of strength.” And, suddenly, the thing charged. I closed my eyes tightly and ripped my cross from my neck, holding it in the air with my hands shaking wildly. I started to scream out my prayer as I felt the thing’s scorching hands touch me, grab at my skin. Finally, I stopped. The last words I said was, “God, let this be over soon.”

 


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