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DEMONS
By
Claire
Godden-Rowland
I screamed with fury and
dread, and with a violent wrench, my bedroom door burst
open, hitting my face and arm clumsily as I burst through
it.
I erupted into the open
space of my apartment and flew across it, past the table,
toward the kitchen area. I began to dial frantically on the
phone, fumbling the numbers in my haste with shaking
fingers. At the kitchen I spun around toward my bedroom
door, I couldn’t see the demon and I couldn’t run any
further. I could hear the agonising rings down the phone,
each one taking an eternity, torturing me with its rhythm. I
strained my eyes toward the blackness of my bedroom door and
what I knew lurked with in, my heart hammering in my ears.
The phone continued to ring and I began to plead with it out
loud, desperate for rescue, for my mother or Allan wake up.
As the phone continued in
my ear and I began to openly sob at the thought of them
having gone out somewhere, another sound joined the
cacophony inside my head. It was a thudding, a padded
thudding, rhythmic and continuous and the sound clawed at my
brain. The drumming grew louder, closer, and I wailed in
fear as I listened helplessly. I was keening and whimpering
with fear, with dread. Then it struck me; it sounded like
feet on carpet.
At the same moment the
thudding stopped, the creature appeared at my bedroom door
and I heard Allen’s voice sleepy and distracted down the
phone. The sight of the creature was too much to bear and I
began to scream hysterically down the phone.
‘Help me; help me … hurry
… please God…’
The creature moved toward
me, its hands outstretched, almost as if I may be persuaded
to take them. It was still shushing me as it approached.
Allen was screaming my
name down the phone, over and over, the panic cold in his
voice. Then the phone went dead and the momentary silence
was filled by a dial tone. I threw the phone at the creature
and it sailed straight through it smashing against the wall
by my bedroom door.
Then I was somewhere else.
My flat was gone, evaporated, the scene changed to a new
venue. I was in my parent’s house, I was upstairs and it was
dark. I could tell it was late at night, I’m not sure how,
perhaps it was the stillness. Then the thudding began,
softly at first then coming closer, heavy portentous
footsteps. I rushed along the corridor and tried my parent’s
door. It was locked. I couldn’t believe it was locked. There
wasn’t even a lock on their door. I began to pound on the
door but it was lost in the thunder of the footsteps along
the corridor, getting closer, louder, closer, and louder. He
was coming. He was coming for me and I knew what he wanted.
I began to bleed from between my legs. I sobbed a heavy,
desperate sob and placed a hand to myself. It was so
painful, so sore, as the blood sticky and hot trickled
through my fingers. The footsteps grew louder, closer, and
the blood was no longer a trickle it was a torrent, gushing
through my fingers and smearing over my thighs. The pain was
intense and I collapsed to the floor screaming, kicking
backward, pushing against the locked door at my back as I
watched my blood pool mercilessly around me, gleaming black
in the moonlight. Then the creature was above me, its face
hidden but I knew it was smiling down at me, with a twisted
fondness. It was on me and the blood poured faster, I was
drenched in it, my shorts sodden. The door opened and I
burst through it and was back in my apartment.
I was no longer bleeding;
my legs dry and I stumbled to my feet and reached for a vase
which sat in my front window. I spun around, desperate and
manic, teeth gritted, to face the creature which stood
before me. The demon was approaching steadily, almost
floating, closer, ever closer.
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