A Very Short Story... For One Character, At Least....

“Seriously, Jimmy, how long are you going to just sit around here and wallow in self pity?”

Jimmy had grown tired of answering the same question over and over. With a deep sigh, he relented and answered, again. “Scotty, I told you. I’m not wallowing in self pity. I have demons, man. I have demons and they won’t let me.”

Scotty grew frustrated. “Jimmy, everybody has demons. You fight them.”

“Not these demons.”

“Then therapy. Get drunk. Do something! This isn’t healthy.”

“If I had a choice, don’t you think I would?”

“Frankly, no. I don’t think you would,” Scotty answered honestly. “First of all, you do have a choice. You can choose to shake the demons off of your back. Go to a therapist, man. You just have to decide to do it.”

“These aren’t the kind of demons I can get rid of with therapy.”

Scotty shook his head. There was just no getting through to his friend. The deeper and deeper Jimmy sunk into despair and melancholy, the more and more Scotty and the rest of their friends worried that Jimmy would never recover. Scotty closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried a different approach.

“Ok then, tell me about these demons.”

“It’s too hard to explain.”

“Damn it, Jimmy! This is ridiculous! There are people out there who care about you. Worry about you. Love you. This isn’t all just about you, you know. Now are you going to talk to me about these ‘demons’ or not?”

Jimmy parted his lips as if he were about to speak, but chose to keep the words inside. Instead he simply nodded towards the hallway closet behind him before turning back towards the counter and the cup of coffee he’d been drinking. Puzzled, Scotty looked to the closet, and then back to Jimmy.

“Seriously, demons in the closet? What are you, five?”

Jimmy didn’t say another word. Scotty simply rolled his eyes, gave his friend the benefit of the doubt, and opened the closet door. The red eyes that peered out at him from the darkness froze Scotty where he stood. It wasn’t until they drew closer that he was able to take a few step backwards. That was as far as he got as the wall behind him stopped any further progress. He could almost feel his skin go pale.

The creature that emerged from the closet was nothing short of a nightmare. It was tall, at least seven feet, and had to duck its grotesquely horned head through the doorway. Its flesh was dry and gray, with trickles of drying blood oozing from points where the creature’s skin had split. It was as if it had stepped off of its perch high above some deteriorating European castle and into Jimmy’s living room. It had hoofed feet and its long, sinewy arms showed every vein and muscle beneath the ghoulish flesh.

Scotty had no where to go as the demon leaned in and breathed its rancid breath across his face. Its teeth were sharp, and its eyes as dark and red as blood. Jimmy sat at the counter and didn’t look back. Scotty pleaded for help, unaware that the sound of his pleas never escaped his throat. Suddenly, the demon stepped back and reached forward to place its clawed hands on Scotty’s shoulders. In the blink of an eye, its bat-like wings extended and enveloped Scotty in one motion. With a puff of black smoke that reeked of sulfur and acrid decay, Scotty was gone.

The demon glared at Jimmy for a brief moment and snorted  before returning to the closet and shutting the door behind it. Jimmy sat at the counter, shaking his head.

“Told you so.”

© J.J. Goodman 2013. All rights reserved.