Sunday, July 22, 2018

Burnt Out Ends - Demons Hatching

by Jack Bates (writer), Alameda, March 22, 2010

Credit: Peter Layton
A Flaming Gate Between Worlds

...I lifted Legs and the rest of her from my floor, depositing her on the sofa that was slightly charred from the day's earlier lover's quarrel. "I am a sucker for the Succubi"...

...Continued from Burnt Out Ends

As I waited for my holy brew I lifted Legs and the rest of her from my floor, depositing her on the sofa that was slightly charred from the day's earlier lovers' quarrel. "I am a sucker for the Succubi," I said outloud to myself.

Legs rustled the charred leather sofa as she stirred awake. "What is that smell?"

"That, sorry, is left over from my earlier breakup with my demon of a girlfriend. She didn't take it well when I told her it wasn't working out."

"Oh, I didn't notice the burns, I meant that other smell. The one that smells like coffee. I could use a pickup, I'm running on fumes. Then I need to tell you why you have to help me!"

Wondering about this strange creature that didn't concern herself with burnt furniture, I handed her a cup of my sacred coffee. "Here, I thought you might need a cup. It is strong, and I don't have any contaminants like milk or sugar for it, sorry. I like my coffee black and healthy."

"That is fine. I take it black." Then she cradled the cup in both hands as if it was Christ himself fresh out of the manger and sipped gingerly and gratefully with an approving nod. "Is this a custom brew of Peet's Espresso Forte?"

Now I was truly curious about this woman that understood the value of a great cup of coffee. Legs had the senses of an experienced coffee drinker if she could taste the subtleties of the Espresso Fourte through the Jamison blessing. "Yes, you know your coffee, and you know my name. I am at a disadvantage there."

Through silky sips she replied, "Yes. Yes you are." With slightly shaking hands, trying to be brave, she held the chipped, cheap, borrowed diner mug as if it was for warmth on a snowy day, even though it was hot as Hell in July outside.

"I need your help," she began. "My sister was kidnapped last night. I know it, and the Police say that I'm crazy. They say that they can't do anything until forty eight hours have passed. My sister was supposed to meet me at Ruby Sky but never made it. One young officer said to look you up. I ran over here as fast as I could and in my frantic run I almost got hit by the F Line. I'm so out of sorts I didn't even see the huge street car! I got here and then I heard that scream, and it sounded familiar, somehow, even though I've never heard it before."

"As I stated before you momentarily lost consciousness, that was part of a ritual," I said. "The ritual requires a willing participant to sacrifice herself. The magic of creation at the moment of conception is powerful. When the embryo attaches to the uterine wall the mother's soul is drawn upon to bring forth a new soul from creation. Well this is where our demon inserts itself. Consuming the soul of the infant and the mother, it claws its way into our existence. While it is clawing out of the mother it has not one but two mortal souls. The problem for the demon is that they are now stained beyond repair."

"This used to be a very rare ritual," I continued, "but now with all this modern science and medical fertilization these demon worshipers can pretty much get nine of ten to take and hatch a demon."

Moving to a somehow seemingly seductive sitting position with her legs curled under her she asked, "What do you mean when you say problem for the demon? Or was that observation of mine just from the lasting effects of Cinger's forked tongue?"

Pulling up a three-legged stool, I sat down across from her and gave her the Cliff's Notes version of a soul's existence. "Humans rarely achieve that level of evil. Our souls get to be recycled in a way. That process cleans those stains so we can move on to a supposed higher level of existence. Demons usually can't be erased because they have no soul, like Angels. But, this ritual is out of bounds for creation and for a little while they are vulnerable. When the demon consumes the souls of the mother and embryo the demon embryo grows at an accelerated rate until it is large enough for the demon to claw through. Once the demon has started to exit and until it is fully in our existence, that precise moment is the time to strike. The demon can die and will be erased from all existences.

"So, now that I know you are OK, I ask you to take your leave so I can go slay a demon. They are only vulnerable for about an hour. I am truly sorry about your sister and I can help you later today. This shouldn't take too long. I can be back in two hours or so. The worst part is the mess that I'll have to cover up. I'll have to make it look like another cult Kool-Aid suicide."

About the Writer

Jack Bates is a writer for BrooWaha. For more information, visit the writer's website.
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