Human Spines

Church Demons

Emmeline

        I can hear him. He's playing softly on his accordion. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. Rocking in time with his music. Entirely in his own world, so different from mine.

        I've never been in a city like this one. The streets are cracked, holey, and uneven. Puddles of strange liquids and horse waste dot the streets. Buildings stand crammed together on either side of the roads, creating a cleverly painted maze. The houses range from friendly creams to outrageous neons. The shops and bars are all open, doors and windows offering samples of the scents inside. The incense of the darker stores, the steam of the restaurants, the lavender of nearly every local. But the stench of trash, manure, and bad shrimp intermingles with the others. Hundreds of people pass, some sporting tutus, some in the latest of fashion, some wearing patched-up overalls and blowing furiously into their trumpets. One watching his fingers as they dance across his accordion.

        The last thing I remember is his promise. I didn't fall asleep. A Demon held my hand, making me fall unconscious. It watched my dreams with me. It was a nicer-looking Demon. Cleaner. Like a stainless steel kitchen, or a new computer. I only know because it's still holding my hand.

        I wait until the boy finishes his song. "Can you see it?" I whisper. "The Demon?"

        "Where?" He freezes, fear flooding his eyes. They dart, searching for a clue, until they land on me, worried.

        I haven't moved since last night, the Demon lying on one side of me and the boy sitting on the other, his accordion in his lap, his hat on his head. It's 6:54 a.m.

        "It's okay. It's asleep." I watch it as I speak. "It's right here next to me, holding my hand. It observed my dreams all night but must've fallen asleep."

        "What's it look like?" He sounds anxious, but there's an edge of curiosity in his words.

        "It's hard to explain this one. It's got a steel, triangular head with no face... but its hand is rather warm." I compare this Demon to the others while I wait for his reply. No face, no heartbeat, not even ears, but it's warm. Most others are room temperature.

        "How does it watch your dreams?" He shifts closer, and I grin at this small act of bravery. "And how can you smile with a Demon right next to you?!" he whisper-shouts.

        "This is how I wake up every day. I'd panic if one day I didn't wake up holding a Demon's hand. Every night one watches my dreams with me. Sometimes it's after I've fallen asleep, other times, like last night, they force me to sleep. I don't know any details or how they do it, but I know they do. They're in the background of all my dreams," I explain. I wonder if they control them.

        "But why hasn't it... you know, possessed you?" he whispers, enraptured.

        "It can't." I shrug. "At least not while I'm asleep. I think it hurts them, though I can't be sure. The ones who take me for weeks or months or years must be very skilled thieves to be able to possess me so quickly after I wake up. I never remember a thing. Or at least that's what all my experiences have lead me to believe."

        His fingers fidget with his instrument. "How many are there? A hundred?"

        "More like several billion," I correct.

        "And you're the only one they possess." He pauses, watching me nod. "I... Gosh your life is messed up." He's looking at me like I've just won an Olympic race without legs. "Yet you're still saner than the average person."