Shadows and Demons

The following article might bother some people, because it’s written in a story-mode (one of the ways I like to work things out in my head) and does contain strong language.  But please keep an open mind, and watch carefully.  Most of you will just read a very strange and dark story, while a few others might catch a glimpse at the inner-workings of my chaotic psyche.

I occasionally write these because they take dark ideas out of my head, away from the places where they can cause harm.  I think we all struggle with good and evil sometimes.  I think we all have a bit of a shadow within ourselves that tells us to do things we don’t like.  This is a peek at mine.

The Conversation

The small room flickered and glowed with the dim light of kerosene lamps.  They hung suspended on the walls almost like small flaming butterflies caged behind glass tubes and attached to a framework of ornamental wood.

In the room sat a desk, covered in papers and small random scientific tools.  The walls around were covered in drawings, diagrams, and more tools hanging, waiting for some unknown future purpose.  In the midst of all this sat a short, paunch man, nearly invisible among all his thinking.  Only the furious sound of his pen broke the intense silence that carried the room.

“Aren’t you going to give me a proper hello, old friend?” whispered a cynical voice from the darkest corner where one of the lamps had fluttered itself to nothing.  “You are growing old, you know… and what are you doing here but writing and thinking and drawing.  What do you ever expect to accomplish?  Nobody cares about you or this mess you’ve wrapped yourself up in”.  A shadowy hand gestured at the room dismissively.

“No”, said the man at the desk, not even looking up.  “No, I’m not going to greet you because you don’t belong here.  You caused far too much damage already, I’m not going to allow you to do this to me, not again.  Not ever.  You’re wrong about nobody caring, and you know it.”

“Awww… you break my heart, Anton.”  The smooth voice stepped closer, causing the flames to almost visibly shiver in fear.  “I thought that after I gave you what you begged me for, after turning a useless shit like you into something with meaning, and giving you all that fucking creative power, that I’m going to let you lock me out like an undeserving animal to starve on your porch?  I DON’T THINK SO!”  The last four words had brought the figure close enough to carry its hate-covered breath to the back of Anton’s head.

It was this moment that had him turn around and stand now in one fluid motion to face this conversation fully.  The dark figure was still the (much) taller of the two, but Anton was still able to stare unblinkingly into the dark glittery orbs that passed for eyes.  “Now listen to me, Phospher.  It was my own creativity that gave you life.  You are just as fictional to me as this room that we stand in now.  You are led to believe that you created all of this, because I have allowed it to be.  It was my own subconscious that brought you to me, and my own knowledge that took your power as mine, THAT is where the creativity is birthed:  within my own mind.”

The silence grew agonizingly thicker as each moment passed by.  The room almost seem to grow darker, heaver as these thoughts were considered.

Phospher drifted over to a black chair that didn’t seem to be there before and sat down.  “Well look who grew a pair” he chuckled.  “Chicken.  Egg.  Whatever.  You don’t get it, do you? You claim to have created me based on the idea that I am in your mind alone, but it sounds to me like you agree that you didn’t actually think me up on your own, did you…  I was just here.  Waiting for you.  I’m here to help you buddy, and you just keep pushing me away.”  He crossed his long legs smoothly, the tips of his feet glinted slightly from the hint of metal.

Anton expertly copied the motion, sitting back down and crossing his own legs.  “Alright.  So what do you want.  Why are you here?”

“We need to learn to work together, you and I.  There needs to be a synergy between our two conflicting energies.  I need life as much as you need power.  Without each, neither can survive.  Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Aye.  There’s likely something to that.  I agree that without your fire, I have little left in me to continue on my own.  The art, the writing, it all needs to thrive if I am expected to continue with anything.”

Phospher nodded slowly, a smile beginning to creep out from the shadows…

To be continued…

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