Scary Stories

A demon saved my life, I wish he hadn't

I first met the demon when I was seventeen, and on that night he saved my life.

I was standing at the bus stop, waiting to catch a ride from my after school job. I had forgotten my umbrella that day, and, as you know, it always rains when you forget your umbrella.

It was coming down in freezing bucketfuls, and I was trying to ignore the fact that I was floating in my own shoes. Suddenly, the rain above me stopped, and I looked up to see him--the demon, shielding me with his umbrella.

He looked like a person put together by someone who didn't know what a human being looked like. He was long and lanky, six and half feet at least, and his shoulders were hunched forward so that his profile resembled a giant vulture.

His face was gaunt, all sharp edges and deep hollows, and across it was plastered a wide, friendly smile of crooked gray teeth.

"Haven't you heard, friend?" he asked.

"No," I said. "Heard what?"

"The bus isn't coming today," he said. "The driver was drunk and got into a crash. Everybody on board was killed."

The way he said this last part--cheerful almost--made my stomach turn.

I wasn't sure if I really believed him, but I decided that I would leave anyway. I felt a strong urge to put as much distance between him and me as possible.

"Oh," I replied. "I guess I'll have to walk it."

"Yes," he said. "You will. Here, take my umbrella."

He extended the umbrella out toward me, and without thinking, I accepted it. My fingers briefly brushed the skin of his hand, and a shiver shot through my entire body.

The next day I saw the bus crash on the news--except it had happened after my stop. Just as the man had said, everyone on board had died. And if it weren't for him, I would have been on board too.

The next time I saw the demon was during my sophomore year of college. He was waiting for me in my dorm room, hunched over my desk and reading one of my books.

"It's you," I said.

"Yes," he replied. "It's me."

He calmly shut the book and turned to face me, beaming his crooked-toothed grin.

"I brought you a present," he said.

My stomach squirmed.

"You did?" I asked.

"Oh yes."

He reached a hand inside the lapel of his jacket and retrieved a pink spiral notebook. The name "Ellen Hartwell" was printed on the cover.

"This belongs to the pretty brunette in your psychology class," he said. "The one you're always staring at. You will tell her you found it, and then ask her out to dinner."

He set it down on my desk.

"Oh," I said. "Thanks."

"No thanks necessary," said the man. "I'll see you again."

In that moment I blinked, and he disappeared.

The final time I saw the demon was the night my son was conceived. My wife Ellen was waiting in the bedroom while I took a quick shower. I stepped out naked and dripping wet to see the man standing in my bathroom.

"Hello again, friend," he said.

"You scared me," I replied.

"I know," he said. "Listen to me. Tonight you are going to talk to your wife. She is ready to have children, but she doesn't know it yet. She will conceive your son tonight."

My heart swelled at the thought of a son, but my stomach was less optimistic, and it squirmed with uneasiness.

"Why are you helping me?" I asked.

The man smiled widely.

"The strands of fate are long," he said. "Much longer than a single human life."

He snapped his fingers, and disappeared in a mist of blue-gray smoke.

The man never visited again after that, but sometimes I would get that uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach that accompanied his presence. Years passed, then decades, and gradually, I forgot about him--until the day the police came.

They came with bloodhounds and shovels, and they turned my entire property inside out.

After all was said and done, they'd found the remains of thirty-seven women, and arrested my only son.

My son claimed throughout the trial that a demon had forced him to commit the murders, but the prosecution did not believe it, and he was sentenced to death.

But I recognized the demon from the thousands of sketches that filled his notebooks.

It was a gaunt-faced man with a wide, friendly smile of crooked, dead gray teeth.

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A/N

I never do these but I just wanted to apologize for not updating. Also thank you so much for 1k reads it's not much but I'll take what I get. I'll be updating every weekend🤠