Deamons

Chapter 3 "Baptism"

"Baptism"

The atmosphere in the host changed. It is brighter. Isolation is shrinking and complaining to Rejection about it, who is shrinking as well just not as noticeably. "This is how it goes now. Babies cry and cry about everything and someone caters to their needs. This just isn't your season. Be patient," Rejection consoles Isolation. "Well if it's such an arid season what the hell is that new miniscule thing following you around?" For the first time Rejection break out into laughter. "Well as I explained babies cry in order to have all there needs met. They cry all the time. Sometimes they cry for no reason at all apparently. Apparently, ha, ha, ha!" Rejection looks like he has lost it. If deamons can be driven mad this is what it looks like. Isolation does not get the joke. He spends most of his time with Pity in his quarters. Other deamons avoid it back there. Pity's quarters are dark and cold, lit dimly by him. It is like a black light in a psycho birthing ward of an insidious clown hospital back there. Quite opposite to the atmosphere in the great hall with Hope running around singing about baptism. The big hall was lit and lively like a well-funded cathedral at Christmas.

Isolation is tapping his foot. He wants an answer. By nature, he trusts no one and is threatened by this little egg-shaped thing following Rejection everywhere like a lost puppy. "Well that of course is a forming deamon of my own." Isolation stands there blank faced. He wanted more. "Oh, look what you've spawned," Rejection says then bends over and sweeps an orb up that formed at Isolation's feet. "What the hell is that!" screeches Isolation pulling up his foot where the orb formed and hopping on one foot. "The little deamon you spawned is Mistrust. Excellent job. I will tend to these orbs until they are ready to fully form. They will be very useful one day. You will see." "Well who is the other one?" Isolation asks. "Oh, that is Addiction," Rejection smiles coyly and slips his hands together like snakes sliding off a slime covered river rocks. "I was astonished when it formed. You see even though the father is discharged from the military and these parents moved back to where they are from. No one is helping them. They are on their own. They were doing a good job at first tending to their baby's needs and we were starving. Hope over there rallied lighting this place up. That's when I got to work. Needling in this baby's mind. Causing acute pains. It took a lot of doing but I got him crying all kinds of times. The parents tried feeding him, checking his diaper, every possible thing to satisfy him and stop his crying. Then it happened. They got wore out, stressed and did not answer his cries. Oh, I fed of that," Rejection smiled rubbing those slick hands together. He sickened me sometimes. "Then those parents would come back and tend to him and cuddle him and I shrank. Back and forth there was no formula for their love or ignoring. Then one of those times (pop). This little orb you notice following me is the forming deamon Addiction." "What do we need with that?" Isolation asks. "Oh, you shall see. Ha, ha, you shall see just how powerful this deamon can grow to be," Rejection answers with glee.

Hope rallied back so well after hearing that one word, baptism. Anger wants to know what it means so he hangs as close to the gifts as he can without making them nervous. Hope is beaming, "It will be wonderful from here on out. Baptism will positively burn the deamons out!" The gifts are all so tiny. Hope looks like he is attending a nursery. When he talks he encourages the fragile gifts. They light up ever so slightly each having their own distinct color. It is beautiful to watch. Anger could never let Rejection know how much he admires Hope. He almost wants to be driven out if it would let the symphony of light that Hope conducts to blossom. He gazes and drifts closer as Hope speaks softer, so he can keep listening. The more he listens he aches with desire to be a gift. Anger flickers and something drops from him. It is a red egg-shaped orb like the ones following Rejection. It rolls away from him with purpose. He sees Rejection has been watching the whole time from afar. Why had he let him get so close to Hope? He scurries back by Rejection fearing the repercussions that he may bring upon him for straying so close to the gifts.