It Looks Back

The Dark

When we look into the darkness, our deepest selves understand that something looks back. Anthony looked out the window as midnight struck.... looked into a dark so crushing, that it felt tangible, encompassing..... stifling.... toxic. The thing looking back at him, its grotesque, teeth filled mouth, scowled more than smiled. Soon, it’s hunger would end. Anthony smiled back and thought “we’ll see whose hunger will be sated this night”. The thing of the darkness, whose very existence had struck a fear so primal into the hearts of such varied creatures, that it itself, knew not the feeling, recoiled unexpectedly, not understanding what had caused this reaction. Unknowingly, it now knew fear’s strangling grasp. 

Before.........

Anthony was anything, but typical. He always thought himself unique, set apart, viciously intelligent, decidedly smart, a man among men. He thought the world unappreciative of what he contributed to it. The world, and fairly so, thought him average. Anthony therefore thought the measuring stick was broken. His thoughts on the matter were reinforced by the rejection letters he’d recently gotten from all the big and small publishing houses, for his novels. Anthony knew his works were without equal, speaking to realities and fantasies, through a written medium so good that people should count themselves fortunate to live at the same time as an author so rarely gifted. 

Letter after letter came back however, and Anthony became increasingly paranoid that some where, some floundering author would find his stories discarded by these blind editors and use his words to break out into the writing world. He started to research the copy right laws to ensure he could fight these battles, that he was sure would come. From his small town, he wondered how he’d even find out that his stories were out there? Can a writer become famous, recognized and paid with his stories, without him knowing? Yes, he answered himself.

Anthony however, could not hide the deep shame he felt having been rejected though. 

The ever lessening ashamed yet sensible part of him told him that he just was not that good, and should just accept that and carry on being a good average guy, with an average job, average girl, average family.....average life, and die being not remembered as nothing but average. As he was rejected, Anthony rejected this. He was more, and more for this world, and he’d make the world know it, until it felt it in the very deepest parts of its deepest oceans, till it resounded from the highest parts of the tallest mountains. Anthony would be remembered when he was no more, and lauded when he was here. He’d just have to give them all a little nudge in the right direction. It should not take much he thought, his work was really good. 

Being a small town boy, Anthony was always confused as to why the folks around were so cliquish. It was not like they had all these options. Being however, a boy in a town he moved too as a young teen, in the middle of middle America, being the only black family for as far as the eye could see.... and the only Trinidadians for as far as bird could fly.... well.... that made it a tad more difficult. Anthony’s parents were determined however to have a different American story.  His dad, as the town doctor was liked well enough, and his mom as the town dentist brought smiles, not just owing to her trade. 

Anthony was accepted well enough, but the divisions between the other young adults and himself was more owing to him than them. Anthony lived mostly in his mind, in his books, in his sci fi movies. He was an expert introvert. He really then, never fit in.  Anthony however desperately wanted to not just fit in, but to be recognized as the most important element in any grouping. And Anthony felt that this was not asking too much. The world however did not seem to agree 

Anthony had been back to Trinidad with his parents a number of times, back to his rural village to the south of the island and like them was glad to get back home to their nice house in their nice town. On one visit however, unknown to his parents, Anthony had met up with the village witch doctor. Anthony never knew that the obeya man had sought him out..... the rich little village boy who lived away, was reserved and noted to be into stories of fantasy and fiction. 

The witch doctor understood that here lay fertile ground for his demons to plant their seeds, migrate and multiply in a whole new country.  The obeya man had met up with Anthony and seemingly granted a small favor..... the next day Anthony got a call from a big magazine that he’d won a short story competition. All it had cost Anthony was $1,000.00 US, negligible, as the prize money was $5,000.00 and Anthony would be interviewed and featured in the magazine. Anthony thought himself on his way to recognition. The witch doctor knew Anthony’s soul was on its way to hell. 

The witch doctor was aware that he no more controlled the demons than the olden people who danced around their fires controlled the rain. He was a channel though which the demons came and he was granted longevity and through his consultations, prosperity. All it had cost him was his soul. When the demons came, they needed fertile ground in which to grow, to rest, to wait.....their growing field was the unsuspecting soul of a victim. 

Yes, the demons granted favors....little things.... that led to little bigger things... but never enough to make their consorts not ask for more.The demons had a practiced trade. They gave just enough to make people need them desperately..... hungrily, greedily..... until giving to the demon was like breathing. All the while, the person would think that it was the witch doctor who granted them the favors, not knowing that the deal was now between them and the devil. Until there was nothing of them left, nothing left to give. Then a master demon, a demon prince would come from hell and would take over and walk this world in the shell of the former person. It was a formula that had worked forever. 

His parents were shocked when Anthony told them that he’d like to go to Trinidad on his own, to visit family and friends. His parents had always thought him too reserved, too shut in, for a young man, so were glad when he offered the suggestion. And the recent events in town had everyone on edge. The disappearances were more than concerning..... kids Anthony’s age. One or two that he knew. Maybe the time away was ideal. 

When Anthony arrived to his native village he followed the expected routine. Met all he was supposed to, made the usual rounds, laughed at the oft told jokes about when he was young, about his parents, before they made the bold move to migrate. He followed the usual patterns until he could get away on his own. This time however, he sought out the witch doctor..... or so he thought. The doctor was waiting for him. 

Anthony’s request was small. He just wanted to be the most famous writer ever. The witch doctor, what ever little piece of humanity was left in him shuddered. The obeya man had been born with the sight.... the ability to see demons, and see them attached to people. The more the people fed the demon, the more the demon grew....resilient in their evil. He saw the demon that wrapped around Anthony now, whispering in his ear. And even the witch doctor wanted to scream and run away. He’d never seen a demon so strong. What he did not know was that Anthony had asked ever growing little favors. And Anthony kept giving of his soul.... and then when that was not enough, Anthony had...... decided that other souls should pay his price.

The witch doctor knew the look of a demon fed by murder. And this demon looked more fed than any he’d ever seen. His last human shred, wanted to turn the boy away..... but the witch doctor knew

it was too late for him to take such a righteous stance. He was as lost as Anthony, and never able to see the demon that whispered in his witch doctor’s ear. 

The boy had come to ask why his favors were no longer being granted. He had.....done......what was asked of him. The witch doctor told the boy that sacrificing strangers fed little favors.... sacrificing a loved one would satisfy the greatest need. Anthony new then that this was his role to play.... the “tragic orphan” would make for a better biography at the back of his novels in any even.....Anthony made up his mind, paid the witch doctor for his consultation..... only $10,000.00 US and left. The two whispering demons smiled. 

Now...... 

So yes, Anthony looked out the window and what he really saw was not the grotesque creature of the dark.....but the reflection of the demon wrapped around him, mouth close to his ear. Behind him lay the decapitated, dismembered and decomposing bodies of his parents......through the mail chute was acceptance letter after acceptance letter from every major publishing house, anxious to give this hot new author his taste of fame.....but they all remained unopened...... Anthony was no longer home to open them..... a prince had taken up residence in Anthony’s shell..... and even Anthony’s whispering demon was afraid. The demon prince looked out at the new world and smiled. Tonight we begin.