Deamons

Chapter 9 Sweet Child of Mine part 3

They rise up in the body quickly. Like vapor out canyon they come into the upper being. Anger goes to quick work as Rejection sits back contemplating the work being done. Anger reaches Pity first grabbing him by the throat to choke him out. It is like his throat is made out of an iron pipe and is not crushable. In fact, he grows larger with Angers furious efforts. To him it must tickle because he laughs. Anger lets go and shoots around to many other deamons. All have a similar reaction as to the one Pity had. They grow stronger in one way or another. Anger falls spent. He crawls and wiggles over to where Rejection stands; the only deamon who has not grown despite his efforts. "I don't know what to do," Anger explains. "I see that," Rejection says calmly.

Rejection stands there seeing everything but it is Death he is really interested in. He does not want Death to feel his gaze so he only hazards short glances his way. He focuses on the outcome of what Death is doing. This close he can see Death is not taking Starke directly as he thought. He holds the gifts down. Rejection a very old deamon, has seen more than most. He had seen death in many forms take many lives. They were older, very sickly or gravely wounded. This Death wants something more. He wants a fresh kill. To taste something very young and in great health. Death cannot take this one outright. In fact, he is questioning himself now. He had thought it odd that this death came into such a vibrant boy at all. He stared at this Death. Searching his memory pictures of the deamon. This Death had come in looking very old, very haggard. He had come in with Pity and it seemed right because as deamons of death go this was a sorry looking one. That is not so now. As Death hovers over the gifts he sucks their life force in making him youthful. He looks more brilliant and powerful as ever. With every pain a deamon caused the boy he had feasted and grown. Death did not feast on pain he ate life. Addiction had been feeding on other deamons until it was time for him to afflict the boy. He crept alongside Death feeding on him to survive often. This made Death crave more life more. No longer satisfied to wait until the boy was sickly. He wanted to eat a healthy boy getting all that raw energy to make him young and spry again. He needs to beat these gifts down while the deamons work directly on the boys will to live. Thereby bringing the boy to a state where he will ask Death to take him. Then little will be able to stop him.

"I can't go back to hell. Please Rejection I don't have the strength myself. You toss me in the abyss," Anger pleads. Rejection looks down and smiling at Anger. "Not today," Rejection quips then walks away laughing. The other deamons do not notice one of their own marching up to a special spot few of them even knew exists. As Rejection walks he morphs into a tall man of twenty-eight. He disappears into the mind.

His task is simple. Make the boy want to live again. Simple but this is not his bag at all. Making life worth living is the providence of the gifts. He did not even want to do this. He just wants to use the boy a while longer and eat him up in his way, not the way these deamons are. A fine meal wasted on the simple one tool deamons. Although he admires Death. He could work with him but he was going to be the boss. His plan must be the rule. So, he is required to do something he does not like. Make the boy want to live again an awkward and gross task for him to say the least.

Rejection fumbles around in the attic of this boy's mind. For such a young boy this place is dusty and webby old. So much tossed around. Much of it bad and purposely buried. He thumbs through it all. Everything is valuable to deamons as their business is manipulation. He needs some truth. Some nugget to mimic and turn this spiral around. Even in this deep mind the walls are cracking as the boy is losing the will to live. Normally he could not get in this part. Too deep to access, but with the boy weakened he is able to force his way in. These are the types of memories that make emotions feel tender, the body twitter with butterflies or cramp depending on their vibration.

If he wanted he could grab one the painful memories and brings the walls down. Tumble them all back to hell. Those pop out at him first. That is not what he desires now however. He needs to dig deeper. The ultimate spirit of rejection himself, the dark master of hell charged him with a mission. He could not go back a failure. He spots a piece or a tattered red and black flannel shirt. He touched it getting a sense from it. It was the shirt the boy wore when the memory happened. He saw the boy's uncle was visiting. He gave the boy the shirt as a present. Nice but not what he was looking for. There was something there though he felt it. He delves in deeper seeing the boy's uncle blow a chunk of snot out of his nose and it went in his coffee cup. Starke was so disgusted by the image of snot he could not tell his uncle about it landing in his cup before his uncle took a drink. "Gullep," his uncle slurped it down. Starke laughed hysterically and even more when his uncle found out and just shrugged then drank the rest.

Nice but not poignant enough to turn the current situation around. Why was that even in here? He delves deeper feeling there is something there. Then a chunk comes. Like a marshmallow pushed to the bottom of the hot chocolate only to rise again he grabs the chunk and breaths in its essence so he may know what it is. That day he wore the shirt around his uncle he wished his father payed attention to him like that.

It went on but that much was all Rejection needed. The memory even held an image Starke had formed to represent his grandfather in place of his father. That image was gold for the deamon, it had wheels. He forms his mask carefully using all the details provided from the boy's mind but then throws in other things he knows works. Aspects from shows the Starke watched. Things he knew the boy longed for. He marched down into the mayhem wearing the mask.

Envy is the first deamon to notice the masked Rejection. He twirls around and meandering behind the masked deamon. Pity follows bringing a gang of deamons in tow. They tear at the disguise Rejection threatening to break apart his plan before it can take flight. He cannot fight them all and fighting is not in character for who he is pretending to be.

He is in pleated slacks pulled up high with a tucked in shirt like men wore in the forties. His fresh polished wingtips were getting scuffed by the deamons talon feet. He can regenerate his costume but struggling with them is not going to stop Death now. Starke is weakened and Death is now eating the life out of him. His Strength almost completely depleted. Oh no I cannot do this is not going to work. How far can I go to achieve my goal and still be aligned with his dark lord, he thinks contemplating his options. Nothing ventured nothing gained. He screams out for Anger, "I need your help and the gifts!"

Anger's fury rises. The one thing that seems to stoke his fire most is being needed. He pushes hard into the gifts knocking them about like the jolly green giant in a mosh pit. Then he reaches up grabbing death by his long-horned tail and swings him about like shot putter sending him flying off. The gifts are energized and break out to fight. The brawl commencing Rejection makes his way over to the dream center. He projects everything the boy wanted to hear. Giving him a male figure in his mind to model himself on and enough of an idea about love to turn the tide. Starke wants to live again. The deamons especially Death shrink back to size. Rejection takes his place at their lead again the mutiny in Starke quelled. Anger takes a moment when all are distracted to pull Hope aside. Hope goes to the spot where he can transmit and get a message out.

The next morning Starke's fever is still high, he cannot make it out of bed. For some reason his mother comes in to check on him finding him in a pool of sweat. "Oh Starke," she says then disappears and comes back with a cold glass of water. She is alongside his bed and runs her fingers through his hair. "Listen Starke. You handsome, strong and smart. Always know that. No matter what I say or anyone else, you can accomplish anything you set your mind to. You have the ability."