Demons on the Mind

It was fall when I first entered. I can remember because fall was always my favorite season; the colors of the leaves changed and the mayhem of summer faded into tranquil silence. It was like the world itself had begun to sleep, allowing me to drift aimlessly along.
I stepped into the waiting room of a place I couldn’t recall, but a place I knew I was expected to be. The walls of the room glowed a blinding white; pure and undisturbed, the white chamber was empty except for me and a simple colorless chair. The coolness and idyllic white reminded me of winter, a time of complete peace with nothing to disturb it.
But the illusion of winter broke seconds after the thought crossed my mind, a door seamlessly peeling away from the wall across from me. A woman—with skin as dark as fresh soil and smooth as a frozen lake, dressed in robes of colors mirroring a midnight sky void of stars—entered, barely stepping beyond the threshold of the doorway.
“Charles Thomas Diaz-Doyle,” she asked, looking right at me. Her eyes burned black, like the coals of a roaring fire, and she spoke in a strange way that made my name sound foreign to my ears: she drew out her vowels, twisting them to match one another, and spoke with her tongue brought toward her teeth, creating the semblance of a lisp.
I didn’t react for a moment, completely entranced by the woman’s appearance. Oh, yes. That’s me. I tried to speak but the words caught in my throat, latching onto my teeth and scratching at my lips before fading into the blank void of the room.
She didn’t say anything, simply nodded and, briskly turning on her heel, slowly re-entered the doorway. I remained stoic for a moment before realizing the nod was meant to signal me to follow her.
Quickly moving to catch up, I stepped through the door and into a hallway stretching on further than I could see with walls as sheer and blank as the room I’d come from. The woman was only a few steps ahead of me, but she only seemed to advance further into the endless hallway as I picked up my pace.
An unfamiliar and sudden sense of panic rose in my throat, bubbling into my mouth and turning my blood to molten magma. Feeling my lungs burning, I tried to call out but the words wouldn’t form each letter melting away on my tongue and, as the words dissipated, the walls began to collapse inward. The air thinned and the whitewashed hall began to grey as I fell to my knees, my eyes drooping shut, the rhythmic thunder of my heartbeat growing until it was all I could hear… all I could feel…
Then it was gone, a sudden warm, summer breeze stirring the still air. Pure white light began to emanate around him, visible just beyond his eyelids. Charles slowly opened his eyes, breathing in the air filled with the sickly sweet smell of vanilla as the anxiety in his blood faded away.
Charles instantly noticed the world that stared back at him was different. It was, in a way, broken. Three moons of cerulean blue slowly drifted across a sky colored of snow, lit by the glow of a black sun with rings so bright the dark color turned to white; the trees sprouted from the ground, twisting and bending in odd ways with leaves stretching along the dirt and nests of knotted roots climbing toward the sky; the grass underfoot was a pale maroon, standing sharp and strong under Charles’ feet. The faint, distant chiming of bells warmed the air, just an echo to his ears and the scent of vanilla, smoothing into a calming breeze, was accompanied by the faint whispers of lemons.
Stepping along a snaking path of smooth silvery stones, Charles looked around the world, his eyes catching on each of the strange malformations along the horizon. With each step he took, a dark fog appeared from the ground thickening and swirling under the soles of his feet. By the time Charles took notice, the summer wind smell of winter snow and the fog was blossoming outward developing him in a void of grey.
The grey was dark, its touch frosting the blades of maroon grass and pushing in against Charles. He slowed his pace, the once welcoming chiming of bells turning into an eerie echo in the mist; as the fog swelled, it brought the smell of smoke, overpowering the soft scents of citrus and vanilla.
A town, crafted from foreign stones, grew from the fog as the darkness slightly lightened. As Charles wandered under the broken arch into the town that sung of ghosts, a fountain made of marble stone glowing through the fog caught his attention, pulling him inward. At the center of the fountain was a statue of a small girl, her hair braided like a halo around her temples with wings, so finely carved each feather looked like it had fallen from the sky, wrapped around her. Wearing a dress of stone that flowed like a summer breeze, despite the empty chill filling the air, she stood like an angel with her arms outstretched and palms to the sky; crystalline water lifted itself from the basin of the fountain, danced up through the air until it fell into her hands.
Entranced by the statue’s glow, Charles paid no heed as he stepped over piles of skeletons stripped bare. He paid no heed to the blood dribbling into the fountain, tainting the clear water with a deep darkness. He paid no heed as the bells stopped, deafening silence burying him in the fog.
Reaching his hand out to meet the girl’s, he hesitated. The fog—which had been swirling around—froze, the town holding its breath in anticipation as Charles’ hand hung in the air. Blind to the haunting chill lingering underfoot, his fingertips brushed against the statue’s. In a flash, the soft glow of the statue became a light so bright it had no color, piercing through the dense fog and blinding Charles. As the light faded, the fog had pulled away from the flash, stone had turned to skin and the statue of the girl had become real, built from flesh and feather.
“Where are the serpents?” she mumbled, half delirious and struggling to cough out her words. Charles, dumbfounded by the girl’s sudden transformation, was frozen in place, the words fleeing from his mind before they could properly form. Seeing her in the flesh, her skin was so pale it practically glowed, her hair was the color of a deep flame, and she looked ageless, though he thought her only a child. “We need to leave, before they come.”
Gathering his focus, a confused look found itself onto his face. “Serpents?” he asked, his mind instantly thinking back to the small garden snakes he’d kept as pets during his childhood, conjuring happy memories conflicting with the girl’s tangible terror. “There aren’t any serpents around here.”
As the words manifested in the world, the fog stirred. From the midst of the murky air erupted darkness, serpentine creatures as long as Charles was tall burst from the shadows, flying toward them. Each bore scales made of crumbling shadow, the air screeching as the shadowy scales disintegrate into dark dust. Their strange snake mouths twisted into an impossible grin, dark violet venom dripping from fangs made of stars.
Charles fell back, the ledge of the fountain rising to meet his ankles and send him tumbling toward the bloodied waters. But before he hit the water, he felt arms wrap around him. The girl from the statue grabbed onto him, her legs trembling as she struggled to stand, but she looked onwards as the serpents dove toward them. Shifting her shoulders, her wings fluttered outward summoning a gust of wind and wave of light; the power reverberated around the hollow town, lightening the fog around and turning the serpents to ash. The moment hung in the air for a fraction of a second, seeming to expand on for an eternity. But the light quickly faded and the girl collapsed, limps haphazardly sprawled over the fountain’s ledge, releasing Charles forward. “Are you alright?” he asked, bending down over the young girl and sitting her up. Her eyelids fluttered, slowly drooping closed. He repeated himself: “Are you alright, miss?”
He could feel her light breaths on his hands as he held her, each one shuddered and so faint he almost couldn’t feel them. Her skin was cold—he could feel it through the fabric of her dress which, now that it was no longer made of stone, was a bright golden color reminiscent of a sunset.
Focused solely on the girl, Charles didn’t notice as the fog returned, pooling around the town as the tolling of church bells rolled in from the distance. The girl remained still for a moment more, her breathing slowing to a halt; suddenly, she coughed, her whole body tensing up as she heaved water onto the pavement of stones.
Completely ignoring Charles’ dumbfounded expression and moving on as if nothing had happened, the girl looked at Charles, fear searing her periwinkle irises, and stated, “We don’t have long. We have to leave before the demons come.” When she spoke, her voice was different from before, it was no longer raspy and ragged as she struggled to get the words out but instead was angelic, sounding of songs and memories.
Struggling to form words, mesmerized by the girl’s soft, ethereal voice, Charles’ response lingered on his lips before falling from his mouth. “Before what comes?”
“Demons. They’ve conquered our world and are hunting me down as I’m the last angel left on this side,” the girl hesitantly explained, the sorrow in her voice withering in the air and her wings wilting at the thought. Closing her eyes, letting the thoughts drift away, she looked back at Charles. “The serpents were only the beginning, but, if they’re this close, the demons can’t be far behind.”
The girl rose slowly, swaying slightly as she righted herself. Grabbing Charles’ hand, she tugged him to his feet, pulled him into the fog. Though far smaller than Charles, she walked quickly and confidently, ignoring the howls pursuing them in the fog and the waving shadows dancing along the ground.
The fog soon cleared, the dark shades of grey warming into red. The air no longer smelled of smoke, but instead was filled with the sense of blood. Whatever evil the fog held hung back, not daring to cross into the bloodied land.
Charles looked around bewildered by the new world they’d entered. The ground was a deep maroon and look of stone, yet was spongy and light as they walked across it. Everything was monotonous, no motion or life marking the landscape around.
Pulled along by his confusion, Charles spoke up as he chased after the girl. “Where are we going?”
“Home.” She said it simply, pausing as if forgetting that he didn’t know where her home was. A wistfulness in her tone as memories he knew nothing of brought a smile to the girl’s face, she elaborated: “Where I came from. It’s just beyond these hills.”
The air burst with the demon’s screams for blood, as loud and shrill as the screeching of a banshee. He looked back, giving a glance over his shoulder to find hordes of creatures, made from shadow and mangled beyond anything that resembled any organism he’d ever known, crawling toward them. They climbed over one another, their screams echoing of evils so dark that they brought a darkness to the air.
“Come on,” the girl said, pulling him faster and faster. “We’re almost there. Almost home.”
Ascending the final steps of the hill, the girl pulled him along looking out toward the horizon. But there was nothing. The hill didn’t continue on, rolling on into the horizon. Instead there was a cliff, dropping down into an endless void of blood that melded into a sky stained of war with only faint remnants of the white that had first greeted him.
But they slowed, nearing the only thing visible along the horizon: a door made of pure white light, taunting them in place of what was meant to be found over the crest of the hill.
“It’s gone.” She froze, standing at the edge of the drop into the endless sky. Standing before the door, no hope or happiness remained in her eyes. “It’s all gone.”
He stopped beside the girl, a sudden emptiness sweeping over him. There was no dread, no fear of the demons hunting them. No sorrow filled him with sympathy for the girl’s loss. Instead, he felt like the world around: broken with nothing where there was meant to be light.
The girl turned away, looking down the hill at the swarm of shadowy creatures climbing over each other and screaming in delight. Tearing the land apart, the screams of the demons consumed the world, leaving only hate and bloodlust behind as everything beyond them disappeared into the all-consuming shadows of the demons. The world they’d just crossed was gone, only the empty nothingness of shadows left behind.
She looked at him and he saw the light fading from her eyes; he watched the color drain from her hair, the sorrow linger on her face, and her wings droop down until they hit the ground. When she spoke, it was monotonous, filled with depression: “You should go. Maybe there’s something better for you on the other side of the door.”
Why are you giving up?
Why did you bring me with you?
Why do you care if I leave? Why would there be something better on the other side?
Why? The thoughts flickered across his mind, but no answers came. The words were gone and, even as he watched the girl slowly walk towards the crowd of demons, only a single word remained, “Wait!”
The girl, hearing his voice, looked back at him. Though her eyes were empty, all hope drained from her bright face, she smiled at him, a brief look of peace crossing her face as she fell into the horde of demons. Seeing her smile, my breath caught in my throat. I closed my eyes and stepped forward into the doorway of light as the cool breeze of fall embraced me, bringing serenity and silence to the echoes of the world roaring around.
I always loved fall.