Posted by Wilkinson Sword on June 22, 2004 at 18:45:32:
How does one rid themselves of a demon? So often Christopher had asked himself that question in the past.. and now he was about to answer his own question. Laying on his back breathing in the morning dew and gazing at the rising sun as the dawn of a new day began to reflect off the cotton-like clouds. Patterns. He always saw patterns in everything. Patterns haunted him. The demon’s patterns.. the constant stride from right to left. First one foot, then the other. That fucking hypnotic pattern… calling to him. Today was the day of reckoning. Today he confronts his demon.
The cantankerous clunking of a city garbage truck passing by jostled him back to the plan. He glanced attentively at his watch, noted the time. Just twenty more minutes. Twenty more minutes and he would end the existence of that haunting demon and those patterns. He listened as the occasional dog barked and at the mechanical sounds as their masters unlatched and opened their doors to retrieve the daily filth spewed onto print.. then closing them again. People are just so damned unaware, he thought to himself. Demons are all around them.. all around them and they act so unaffected by it all. All they had to do was see the patterns. But he was to confront his demon… very soon.
Christopher was smart. He had prepared for this day for a long time. Noting when his demon would arise and walk the earth.. passing him each day and taunting his existence. Like clockwork he made a note of each passing in order to prepare for his strike. He reached down with his right hand to his right pant leg and raised the cuff… then allowing his fingers to slide up along the leather containing the weapon that would kill the demon as he watched a delivery truck pass him by… the driver not noticing his hiding place. Christopher thought to himself how smart he was in concealment. Blending into those damn patterns of life he hated so much made him a lethal adversary.
Another glance at his watch.. just a few more minutes and the demon would arise. His right hand fingers deftly unsnapped the strap that held the weapon that would strike this demon down forever. Gripping the handle Christopher removed the hand-crafted tool-of- death from its leather case. He looked at it admiringly, reflecting the meticulous effort and design it took in its construction. Thinking to himself as the new day rays of the dawn glistened off the perfectly honed steel and mirrored the yellow light against his face, how he had figured the exact width and length. With each passing day and each passing season he watched as the demon would make its morning escape from the unknown and walk the earth. But he was preparing.. taking notes of the demon’s weaknesses and vulnerabilities.
He paused for a moment.. eyes lifting from the glare. He hears it. He hears it coming in the distance. It was always unmistakable. The low monotone drone with that damned hypnotic clicking, a pattern perfectly spaced as the demon would shift from the right to the left in its walk from out of the underworld. He crouched low.. his weapon at the ready to strike at the passing demon.. ending once and for all its power over him.
Closer and closer the thudder-click pattern would resound in his head. But the worst part was always when he would gaze at the form the demon took. The demon knew this power.. and would direct it at Christopher. His hands and face began to sweat minute droplets as he knew this would be the end of the demon’s taunting.
Peering from his hiding place he sees the demon’s form begin to materialize. Just like clockwork, he thought. That was the demon’s vulnerability.. to be taken by surprise. As the demon came closer he could see it’s long yellow hair flowing back in the breeze… a breeze he could not feel, yet he knew the demon could conjure up at will. The demon always appeared in a slightly different form just to just try and confuse him. But he knew better. But it was always a female demon. It did not matter to him that this day the demon was wearing shorts and a sports bra. As the demonic figure drew closer he calculated his timing as to when to strike as well as the exact place on the demon’s form where he would use his weapon. The demon had predictable patterns.
Fighting off the demon’s hypnotic power in its movement from side to side as it glided along, and also the entrancement of the long hair, he waited patiently and could swear his pounding heart the demon would hear. The demon approached his hiding place and he held his breath as he gripped his weapon.
Christopher jumped up directly in front of the demon, holding the sharp weapon firmly in the right position. His eyes met the demon’s eyes and he knew he had surprised the demon.. its eyes wide open. Wide open as the demon glided straight onto Christopher’s weapon in the precise spot… into the bellybutton of the beast! The force of the demon pushing against him pushed Christopher to the ground. He feared for his life! He felt the weapon entirely inside the demon… right up to his hand. He twisted the weapon to the left and to the right.. the demon screamed and shrieked in an unholy noise that hurt his ears. But the demon was still on top of him… blood spilling from the satanic form, and spitting blood from its mouth onto him with each scream.
With a heavy lunge, Christopher pushed the demon off of him… and it rolled onto the grass. He watched as it tried to grab the weapon from its midsection… then it stopped moving. He stared at the demon. Had he finally killed it? Amazed at his own success he nonetheless had to make sure. He grabbed at the handle of the weapon still buried to the hilt inside the demon.. and moved it vigorously around in a circle and looked for a reaction. There was none. The demon was dead. Its eyes open and staring into the morning sky.. eyes that could do no more harm.. hair that would never flow in a breeze when there was no breeze… and no more patterns of hypnotic gliding along the ground.
Standing over the body Christopher looked down at his bloodied hands and clothes. He heard the dogs barking again.. and the mechanical noises when the doors opened. He could swear that he heard people screaming their praises to him.. that the demon was gone. He was a hero! He raised his bloodied arms, acknowledging their praises. He looked for patterns everywhere but could not find any. He was free and he had saved the world.
In the background was the sound of trumpets… wavering in their tone.. a celebration meant for him, and him alone. People crying out, trumpets hailing… then the pats on the back for a job well done. Christopher felt the people pull on his arms in jubilation. Then lifting him and pushing him into a car… and just before entering it his eye caught the flashing light on top of the car. Suddenly his pride turned to fear…. a fucking pattern.. another fucking pattern!