Demon Stories

Diana: In Nightmares, We Speak, 1859, Germany

There were no words I could express at that moment. No other thoughts which occurred, no anything. "Beau!" I screamed.

He was on the floor next to his grand bed, his long coal black curls over his face. On his side and curled up, he looked so small and vulnerable. And all around him was his dark crimson blood, covering everything. Splattered on the bed covers, on the walls, on the glass of the window. Even on the ceiling. And there he was on the floor, covered in cuts. Absolutely everywhere. 

I rushed to him, tripping on my skirts and landing next to him in my fear. Rolling him over, I brushed away his silky hair, and with a gasp could see he had cut his face, too. Long drags of the knife on his cheeks, which was in his hand again from where it had surely fallen when he had dropped to the floor. Seeing this, I gasped and took it out of his hand. There was no resistance. But he was not dead. We can not die this way. And he knows we can not die this way. But to be so desperate as to try...why was he trying?

"Beau...Beau!" I shouted, shaking him, not wanting to hurt him. The wounds on his arms were already healing. He must have cut there first. Then a thought appeared in my mind, something he had told me long ago in a fairy story when I was little, when I was nestled safely in his warm arms in a faraway garden. 

"When a demon loses all their blood, they go into a sleep. A long time ago, I knew a demon who fell asleep like this. He fell asleep in a little cave behind a waterfall. A thousand years later, like magic!, a beautiful lady with long black hair came by somehow, as if she knew he was there. She found him, but ah!, she cut her hand on a sharp rock. The blood fell into his mouth, and he became alive again! They fell in love and lived happily ever after!"

The knife in my hand. Using it, I cut a deep wound in the palm of my hand just like the lady in the story. Praying for it to work, I carefully opened his mouth and allowed the blood to drip.

All was silent for a few moments. But then. 

Tiny little fluttering sounds. I put my head to his exposed chest. His skin was cold and felt too still. Calmly, I waited. Then just there, just the barest of hints, came tiny little thumps. A small smile curled on my lips. It had worked. He had told the truth.

Not wanting to wait, I cut my other palm and placed it over his mouth. The heart beats became louder in my pinpoint of hearing. His pale, pale lips became warm under my touch. 

But I could never have predicted what was to come next. Never.

Like a shock, his glowing green eyes jumped open and he flew up into a sitting position, yelling this strange thing.

"Iulia?!" He cried out. But just as quickly as he yelled this out, his wild eyes softened and became deeply saddened again. His sudden focused perception seemed to come as a physical change over him. His eyes widened, and he stiffened and gasped, whipping his head around to me in horror. 

My entire body was electric, tingling to my toes and fingertips. 

"Beau..." I whispered, for I could hardly speak.

"Diana...I didn't mean to say...it means nothing..."

This only angered me.

"Beau...why did you say my mother's name?"

Then it dawned on me, and I shall never forget the pain. The absolute horror. The realization that can never go away, no matter how much I want it to go away.

The demon in the cave. The girl with the long black hair. My mother had long black hair. The blood. The blood was real!

"Beau..." I whispered, tears starting to run down my face, not wanting to believe. "Are you..."

"Diana, sweet...please don't--"

"ARE YOU MY FATHER?!" I shrieked, "Are you?! ARE YOU?!"

"Diana..." he said quietly, tenderly, as one would to a cherished child. And I knew. With his look of utter and complete vulnerable shame, I knew. 

"You!" I cried out through the tears, "you made me believe...!"

"I never wanted you to find out," he whispered gently, but fell silent with these words as he just watched me cry. 

Eventually I found his arms around me, just like in those ancient times. Just like all those times I dreamed and wished he would embrace me as a child again. But now I knew why he hadn't. I look just like my mother, and he felt guilt. He just petted my hair as I cried, my hair which is curly just like his, until I had no more tears. Until the sunrise came through the large viewing window in the corner room.

That early spring morning, amid the morning fog and fresh clouds above, I left. I could not be near him anymore. All those years. The lies. The deceit. The gentle smiles. The smell of him. I just could not take it anymore. I never wanted to come back and see his face, forever more.