Demons Whithin

Chapter 02

One week in the new home passes quickly for Paul and Richard as they settle into the new neighbor hood. They awaken one day to find several items they unpacked are put back neatly into the boxes, but they brush it off, thinking perhaps they hadn't unpacked them yet.

Though all is not as peaceful as it may seem. Malevolent forces begin to make quick work with Richard's mind...

"Fucking hell, Paul! Stop putting the shit I unpack back into the fucking boxes!"

"What are you talking about?" The shorter man walks into the room holding another box in his arms. He looks at his lover with a partial irritated and confused look. "I haven't been in here all day, save when I brought in a box or two."

"Then tell me how the books keep getting from the bookshelf to the boxes. I unpacked them three times already!" The younger man kicks the box and rubs the bridge of his nose. "I told you there is something going on with this house."

"There has to be a scientific explanation, Risch." Paul gingerly sets the box down, causing glass to rattle inside it.

"Fuck the science, Paul. Books just don't neatly re-pack themselves inside the box and close. I turn my back for one second, and they're in the box."

"Maybe it's the wind."

"You're fucking retarded."

Richard storms out of the room and pushes his friend out of the way. "Where are you going?"

"For a walk. You're not listening to me, so I need to let off some steam."

"Maybe I could come with?" The older gentleman asks cautiously. He follows behind his love awaiting an answer. He gets it as Richard shakes his head no and flips him the middle finger. Paul stops and frowns. "I'll be waiting here for you."

"Don't stay up too late." Richard turns the corner of the sidewalk and he soon disappears out of sight.

The older man makes his way back into the house. He goes into the kitchen and pulls a heavy box up onto the counter marked 'Dishes. Fragile.' He opens it up and removes the china, placing them in the cupboards with a saddened look upon his face. Taking the box, he flattens it and throws it onto the floor with several other boxes. He makes his way to another similarly marked box and picks it up, turning to place it on the counter to be unpacked. The box slips from his hands and crashes to the floor as all color drains from his face. The previous box is folded and on the counter with the china placed neatly back inside it. And there's a note written on the side. Get Out.

Paul wastes no time getting out of the house. He jumps over the broken china on the floor and flings open the front door, running onto the front lawn screaming at the top of his lungs. "RICHARD!!! RICHARD WAIT!!!" He rounds the corner and sees him still walking away. "RISCH!" He runs as fast as he can up to him and lunges forward, grabbing onto him and holding him tight.

"Paul? What the fuck, man?"

"You were-" He inhales deeply, trying to calm his nerves. "You were right. As soon-as soon as you left, something happened. I unpacked the dishes, you know? And then they re-packed themselves."

"I told you." Richard rolls his eyes and turns from his love, pulling away from his grasp. He then lifts a cigarette he had between his fingers to his lips and inhales deeply. "We need to get out of there."

"But we already paid so much for it. We won't be able to get even half that back in this economy!"

"Paul, you just ran after me scared shitless, and you still want to stay?" Richard stops and looks at his friend as if he were crazy. "You have to be fucking retarded."

"Will you stop it, Richard?"

"Stop what? Pointing out the obvious facts to your thick headed skull? Have you ever been so stupid in your life? Or so ignoring, I should say? I told you I didn't like the house. There was an even lovelier one closer to Berlin, but nooooo. You had to ignore my opinion and buy this one behind my back. Idiot..."

"I'm not thick headed and I'm not stupid. I just thought this would be the perfect house to start a new life. To raise a family..."

Richard pauses all his movement and looks at Paul in awe. "What did you just say?" His voice comes out quiet, but excited.

"I want to raise a family with you, but you're really hurting me with those words." The older gentleman turns from Richard and quickly walks away back to the house. "I'll see you back home."

"It's not home, Paul."

"It is now, whether you like it or not. You're acting like a fucking child." Paul throws his arms up quickly as he continues walking. "I'm also done arguing with you. Dinner will be waiting when you return." He turns the corner and is soon back onto the lawn.

--

The front door creaks open late at night as Richard comes back home, heavily intoxicated. He makes for the stairs and lifts his lead legs, trying to climb, but failing miserably. He falls onto his hands and begins to crawl up slowly, but he stops when a blinding light floods the hallway above him. He looks up and sees three figures before him. "Paul?"

"Where have you been? It's almost four in the morning." His voice comes out angry, but the anger doesn't register in Richard's fuzzy mind.

"I found a neat little bar." His speech is heavily slurred as he continues to make his way back upstairs. Paul bends over and pulls him to a standing position. They then walk together into their bedroom. "It's neat..."

"Richard..." Paul shakes his head slightly as he begins to help his lover undress. He then gently lies him down and cuddles close to him. Richard places his arm around him and closes his eyes, swiftly falling into a deep, dark sleep...

There are flames everywhere. I can't see where I'm going. I... I can't breathe. There's darkness everywhere. Why do I hear people screaming? I groan as something trips me and I fall hard to the floor. As I stand back up, I notice I'm in the kitchen. Something rattles the glasses behind me, so out of instinct, I turn around to see what. There's nothing there. I mean nothing. No wall, no table, no glasses. Nothing. Then a bright light comes on and a dark shadow stands in front of it. "Who are you?" I call out, but nothing replies. "What do you want from me?"

"Your body and your soul." It's voice is dark and comes as a low growl.

"Why?"

"To escape this hell. To escape and spread this pain that I feel all around the human world."

"Why? Why do you want to do that?"

"Because humans think they know fear. They think they know what terror is. They need to realize there is more than just their puny race. There are many more dark forces at work here than just what I have been doing."

"So that was you?"

"Yes."

"I have but one last question. Who are you?"

It lunges forward and grabs me by the throat and lifts me so I can stare into its' eyes. They're solid black. Its' smell is putrid, almost as if it were made of decaying bodies. A low growl emits from it's throat and it smiles at me, large canine teeth stained red with blood... "I'm your worst nightmare, motherfucker."

Richard jolts awake in bed, breathing hard. Sweat beads on his forehead and he climbs out. His foot tangles in the sheets and causes him to fall to the floor, but he quickly scrambles to his feet and turns the light on. "Richard? Are you okay?" The guitarist jumps away, his eyes wide with fear as Paul places his arm around his lover's shoulders. "Risch, it's me. It's okay." The older man slips his arms around Richard's waist and holds him tight, giving him small kisses across his chest and neck.

"Paul?" The young guitarist slowly comes back to his senses and holds Paul as tight as he can back, kissing his forehead and running his fingers in his hair. "Pauly... My god that was the most fucked up dream I've ever had..."