Of demon and man

Part 1 - A Bloody Moon

A tale of our most inner conflicts. The year of this tale is uncertain but the men still holstered guns to their hips and the women’s dresses were long and heavy. The mode of transport, at least for the wealthy, was the trusty carriage or horseback. Hard lollies and sweets were sold out of heavy glass jars and displayed by the windows of the main shops of the main streets, and the quiet town on the shores of the new nation was tranquil as the still waters which their town resided beside. But some time ago, in the times of the settlement, a monstrous massacre took place and the once divided people united to bring a demon to its knees. But this was some time ago. 

There lived a demon deep under the waters of the shores. It never died, though the people who boxed it up, condemning it to an eternity underground, had thought it to be gone forever. They dug it down so deep that its treacherous screams could barely be heard. The tides forever rose and the box from which a perpetual heartbeat drummed, sank ever so deeply in the wet sands.

Sometimes there would be reports of strange sounds coming from the beach but the people would never have assumed they harboured a demon in their backyard. After a lifetime of isolation, the demon had only grown more bitter and insidious, vowing that if it ever escaped its hell, the humans would suffer infinitely.

One beautiful night. Warm with a cooling ocean breeze, a full moon changes her face from white to red as if it were reflecting hell’s eyes. The demon is filled with an almost divine energy and musters the strength to break its shackles and rises tall from the fine, cold, damp sand. Standing deformed and crooked from its box of confinement, the demon lets out a horrible scream, which woke every single resident of this small beach community from their slumber as if their collective subconscious knew the horrors to come. 

Although the stories of the demon had been passed down from generation to generation, the people today would disregard it as a local myth. Little did they know. The demon walks along the beach, twitching and ticing, the crackling of its bones resembling the creaking heard below the deck of the mighty wooden ships rocking in the harbour.

It strolls in the glory of the red moon, stopping in its tracks and points its wolf-like nostrils into the sky and begins to sniff, its ears unfold as they pick up some rustling in the bushes, its teeth hang from its jaw and its mouths waters and trembles in excitement, almost uncontrollably. The demon had found its first meal in centuries. But the stars were so beautiful, thought the demon. 

The morning after is a sight of gore, smelling of rotting death. The townspeople awake frightened to the core just as they felt in their abrupt awakening of the previous night, the feeling returns to send cold shivers down their backs. A bunch of adult pigs had gotten out of their pens the day before and it was evident to the town that the trail of red and swine bits were the remains of the local farmer’s pigs. A trail left for the citizens to follow. 

Part 2 - Love Thy Neighbours

The path of blood led to the house of the town drunk. He was a horrid fellow, nobody liked him, he would always hang around the schools even though he didn’t have any kids, he would also say nasty things to any women that had the misfortune of entering his vision.

The people of the town walked the red path and saw that the outside of the drunk’s house had been broken into, by the looks of it. The town sheriff and the police show up at the scene once alerted. They search the house whilst the people of the town wait outside anxiously, they were only there so that they’d have something to gossip about. They didn’t really care. The police walk out, horrified to find that the drunk was nowhere to be found, instead, the smell of decaying flesh, accompanied by the aftertaste of an abattoir, a musk so thick you could almost chew on it.

This strange event foresaw a lot of gossip for the town, so much so that the old rumours, once a myth, return to circulate in the economy of the people’s mouths. Everyone is talking about the return of the demon but a large percentage of them, the law enforcement along with the news, of coarse, denied it all and wrote it off as some sort of wild animal attack, and the disappearance of the drunk was probably due to a long bender, he would probably turn up soon, they thought. 

As the days disappear into one another, as do the livestock of the local farms. Eventually there weren’t any animals left and the farmers and townspeople began protesting. The farmers are saying that somebody is stealing from their land, blaming some of the young men in the town, which were all descendants of migrants and had always been subtly outcast by the people. Half of the town stopped to defend the youths from the violent other half, which wanted the kids’ heads on stakes. The town was in ruin and within a few more days, the jails filled to the brim from the protests and the streets were decorated with ashy remains, smoke from the fires lingered still and broken glass painted the streets like a dried up brush to canvas. 

Part 3 - Of Wolf And Men

The headline of a local student-run newspaper ran thus, and followed with these words;

Of wolf and men

The wolves who said they were tolerant of the sheep have shown their teeth. The town divided into white sheep and sheep of colour.

The king's speech in vain and the dream turned nightmare. The wolf the man, and the sheep the many.

White wolves take black wool. They shear the black sheep and enforce complicity. 

They say their wool is worthless and they are dispensable. 

Many black sheep have yielded to this "truth" but many protest. 

It is a dangerous world for the black sheep. 

The white sheep buys black wool from the white wolf. 

If only the white sheep knew that the black sheep were not so different.  It would make the world of difference. 

But they have been taught to fear the wolf and hate the black sheep. 

If the white sheep and the black would get along the white wolf would hold no power. 

It is in the wolf's best interest to divide by colour. 

The white sheep follow not because sheep are stupid or scared but evil, they can accept the suffering of their fellow sheep so long as it does not interfere with their life or ,god forbid, take away their "freedom"

This sealed the fate of the town’s divide.

Part 4 - A New Skin

Weeks go by and there walks the drunkard along a lonely road. In the midday sun. The demon was wearing his skin. It had ripped out his insides and wore his flaccid shell like in,pagan ritual. It has been walking endlessly in search of some sustenance. Now that the red

moon has gone the demon’s power drains daily and needs to eat swine or other livestock to build strength. The beast had to flee the town as his sharp teeth and razor claws were no more, non-existent.

The demon could no longer rip flesh apart nor chew off meat like a lion to a zebra. It cannot go on without new blood. The demon, with its almost blind eyesight, sees that he is standing in the shadow of a mighty tree with a sign on it, reading; Hinc ergo

accende intus stupam tuum daemonia. Of coarse the demon could not read it but it knew that this was man-made and no place for the unholy, it seemed to be a place of worship but the beast could no longer trust its eyes.

The transition to new skin had been taking its toll as he was beginning to make involuntary noises, instead of its regular twitches, resembling the growns of a suffocating man. It soon becomes aware of its senses, falling to the ground and rubbing its hands all over the dirt desperately trying to recognize these strange feelings, but to no avail. 

The demon's sense of scent begins to fade, a nose which could once smell the blood of a virgin can now only smell that which is under it. Ears which could hear the screams of the fish under water and the voices of the children playing on the beach in his time of imprisonment, rendered almost useless. He can only hear his heavy chest as he breathes like a human for the first time. 

It was turning human and the demon was becoming anxious in its realization. The people of this new town begin to near and surround the demon as it was making quite a spectacle of itself. The demon, to the eyes of the town, was just a drunken traveller most likely suffering from a mental disability. Reduced to that which he once detested, which he vowed to terminate.

Coming to the realisation of his demon self slowly vanishing into nothingness and his vows of revenge soon to never be, the demon has its first real human experience. A panic attack, cries and howls like that of a wolf, slowly turning into the cries of a man.

The townspeople look at the demon, in its drunkard's skin, in absolute disgust. Shouting profanity and throwing stones. One lady from the local church lifts him up and helps him to walk. The lady shouts to the town - You should all be ashamed of yourselves, I see you all in god’s house on Sunday asking for a chance to repent for your sins and when presented with a chance, you throw rocks and sticks at a sick person -  The lady introduces herself to the demon - My name’s Elenor by the way, what’s yours? - The demon is lost, completely aloof. It had become human - It’s okay, we’ll get you cleaned up and rested - says Elenor.

One day turned to a month, to a year and so on. So much time had passed that the demon could no longer be called a demon. The church had taken him in and raised him like a child, although he was a grown man, he seemed to be slower than the rest so Elenor took it upon herself to teach him to talk, walk and act like a proper person, at least to the best of her abilities.

Part 5 - Redemption Of The Perpetually Condemned

After many years, the demon, now christened Matthew, had become and attained the basic human traits to pass, at least, as a dumb person having a limited power of expression. He had started anew and was a devout Christian but in the back of his head the question burned his mind like an ember that couldn’t be put out. Who was he and where did he come from?

All he knew now was how to serve God and his new community. As the earth rotated, Mathew’s Christianity had become what saved him from his unknown past and he owed it all to his faith and the faith which Elenor had in him. His dream was to be a missionary and spread the word.

The people of the town grew suspicious of his mysterious origins and in general, his being. But there were a select few whom had been meeting in private discussing the possibility of him having been sent by the lord himself. The ones who believed he was a god-send and those who thought otherwise both had their suspicions for the same reason. He hadn’t visibly aged a bit, even after 10 years. He had the same simple face. Then came the final day for Matthew at the town he grew to call home. Between the church committee, including Elenor, the decision was made that Matthew would be taken on a journey on foot to travel far to enlighten those who had not heard of, or even rejected god.

As the days drifted by, the holymen walked in their leather bound feet, shoes which were definitely not made for long distances. Matthew was the only one without any complaints or even discomfort throughout the journey. Their first stop would have it that fate be sealed for their flock. The town was the same which witnessed the demon rise from the sands.

During a mass organized by Elenor and the priests of the old town. One old man and his wife point at Matthew and begin to shout at him - Hey if it isn’t the town drunk! - said the husband - no it can’t be - said the wife. These shouts turned to a game of Chinese whispers resulting in the old timers in the crowd recognizing Matthew and yelling all the wrong the drunkard had done in his past life. Of course Matthew was none the wiser as his body once belonged to another.

Part 6 - A New Moon

The mass saw afternoon turn to night and as the flock walk out of the chapel, Matthew feels a familiar burn under his skin, he remembers his name. His real name. He looks up at the sky and couldn’t believe what he had become. The moon was red, blood red as if painted with the devils brush. He quickly trembles and vomits all over the dirt floor dropping to his hands and knees as some familiar faces surround him along with many new ones. The demon has woken, bursting through his human skin and in a blood storm of glorious howls like a wolf, his fangs piercing through the human skin left of his face, his claws extending, completely deforming his former human hands. Until he is left whole. The people of the town saw their last day as they ran from the devil. No one was saved. But as the red moon passed, he grew so weak, he withered to almost skin and bone and remembered his vows before god. His human consciousness and mind still partially remained. Unsure if he was a dying beast, or human. His final thoughts were of Elenor and his salvation - how beautiful the stars are, it’s a shame they’re fading.

Part 7 - A moment of prayer

In his final moments, he’d become human. His final thoughts turned poetry;

If heaven's gates are closed for me, god let me at least know why

although your name I spoke in vain, I did not choose this life

for I was made to live in fear, of fear that I was wrong

I lived like a man, whose life was dammed, to not live very long

scared to walk in my own shoes in case I spoke my mind

my thoughts weren’t pure, but my intentions sure, only were they mine

my only sin was to seek my truth, a liberty you gave me

so was it your test to see if I, would yield to your divine slavery

this freedom you gift is but a lie, since my penance I cannot afford

how can man see his liberty, only free to love his lord