Deamons

Chapter 19 Make me Laugh! part 2

     Oppression has the gifts worried. The deamon does not directly effect the gifts yet but he has them worried. Somehow what he is doing to Anger has Starke's whole system geared down. There is no spark. Energy level is so low making movement like sludge inside Starke. Hope tries to whisper in the inner ear but it seems like the channel there is out of order. In the mind Imagination has the same trouble. The system is broken down. The gifts pull together, they need a win.

"As I heard the other day the family counselor, Dr. Peacock wants us to make the parents laugh. So that is our mission. Imagination work something up. Strength and Diligence whatever you need to do get up some energy to pull this off. The rest off us will do our part to pull this off. Anything to turn this situation around," Hope instructs. Hope uses up the little spare energy there is to make his speech. The gifts head off to work as best they can on anything they believe will help. Empathy still stands there mouthing weak voiced what she believes the answer to be. No one notices her, convinced Peacock has the best answer to remedy their dire situation. Addiction who has patiently waited for so long watches the goings on. He is the only one to notice Empathy and is glad his is for the whispers reaching his ears are deadly to deamons.

Starke is at his friends. Marvelously healthy people. His friend's father has a carpentry business with a few workers. One is big strapping guy in his twenties. He has a red sport car and spare minutes to be worshipped. "Jeff are you still that Christie Brinkley looking girl," John Starke's friend asked his father's worker. "Nah she wasn't cool with my smoking," Jeff says. "Smoking!" Starke says shocked. He wanted to be like Jeff, the picture of health. "You smoke?" Starke asks. Jeff smiles and looks around seeing no one close. "Well," he says. "Well what?" Starke asks. Then John answers for him. "He smokes jays." John thinks he is cool because he knows. "Don't tell your father," Jeff says. "He knows Jeff. I heard him tell my mother he smells it on you in the morning. He doesn't care as long as you get your work done and don't ask for health insurance," John says. "Right but he will care if he knows you know and that goes for you too Starke," Jeff says. "Hey we're cool," John says insulted by the implication.

Jeff pulls away and John's parents call him in for dinner. "Well time for me to go home," Starke says exasperated. He runs home cutting through people's yards. He hoped that John's family would ask him to eat but they did not. His father is out front washing his car. At least he will not need to knock. "Can I eat something?" he asks. Allan looks at him like a stain. He breathes in then lets the air out with great labor. "Please," Starke says. "A little something and don't wake your mother," he says. Gold, Starke thinks. He slips in and tip toes right up to the kitchen. Shovels food down as quickly and quietly as possible then heads back down stairs to his bedroom in the basement.

He runs his bath water and goes into his room to get some sleeping clothes. That is when he hears her. She barreling down the steps fast screaming like she's rabid. "You don't pay for hot water! Turn that shit off!" Starke rushes and into the bathroom just before her. The water is barely two inches deep. He shuts off the spicket and hears her breathing behind him. Heavy breath, panting. Starke turns. "That's to much water! Next time halve that!" she screams.

Starke has not seen a new bar of soap in well over a year. He has only been allowed the old bars from their bath upstairs. Sometimes he takes slivers and presses them together to make something useable. He has learned after a week with no soap at all to not let the soap get wet for to long as well for it will dissolve quicker. Now this. He is a big boy. How could he get clean? Peacock comes to mind. Perhaps?

"What if I just use the hose outside? Do you think we could ask the neighbors not to look? Oh and no flash photography," Starke says laughing. *CRACK* She hits him with everything she has square in the eye. Like a reflex, so fast an unexpected he falls back smacking the back of his head on the tub.

The deamons are whirling a dervish. Rejection is not having it. This is not him. Not sophisticated enough. Too crass. He pulls the one deamon up that can shut these deamons down quickly. He slams his fist down on the floor. It reverberates down deep into Starke's being.

The lights dim. The deamons cheer. They assume Death is taking Starke. He is looming larger sucking out the spirit and pulling Starke into him while he is unconscious. It is not Death though. Rejections takes cover. Oppression rises from the hole it has been in feeding on Anger. Rejection points to the mad gaggle of deamons. Oppression sucks all but Death and Rejection away. Oppression has no hold over Death to close of deamon to him to affect him.

There is a shaking as the great hall is ablaze with radiant red light. Its Anger whipping through the great hall but not doing as Rejection expects. He leaves death alone. Instead of going against any deamons he is ripping Starke apart.

It is not looking good. The floor is running red with thick liquid which never happens. Rejection pushes himself toward the center of the great hall fighting metaphoric wind created by Anger. "Stop! You're tearing our boy apart!" Rejection screams. Anger does not seem to notice. It is getting cold now. Death is taking its toll. Rejection looks to Hope who is fighting his way over as well. "Anger please stop," Hope says his words not loud, but with the cutting quality of a bell. "Why! I want to bring everything down! There is no point all is pain here!" Anger screams are mixed Starke's voice. Hope keeps pushing in. As he gets close Anger slows. Hope reaches out and hugs him. "We will make it better. I see what is in your essence and we will see this through," Hope whispers. Then screams, "Drag that assassin out of here!"