The Demons Within - Cover

The Demons Within

Copyright© 2017 by Vincent Berg

01: A World Exploding in Fairies

There are two great days in a person’s life
the day we are born and the day we discover why.

William Barclay

Phil Walker’s perception of reality shattered one balmy autumn day. His understanding floating away on the breeze like fall leaves in the wind.

“Hey, Toni, this is Phil. Do we have any more appointments?”

“No. We sure don’t. It’s dead as a doornail. Doug is sitting here twiddling his thumbs.”

“Alright. I’m still downtown. It’s a beautiful day and I figured I’d have lunch and enjoy myself. Let me know if anyone calls.”

Toni was his daughter, who took over after his receptionist quit unexpectedly years before. Since she didn’t have a job and he worried about keeping her busy, he offered her the position as a temporary fix. “It’ll help us both,” he explained. “You’ll earn a decent salary, better than your friends’ nickel and dime jobs, and I won’t need to call a temp.”

She’d accepted reluctantly, but had proven so adept, everything worked out. Not only was she diligent, reliable and personable, but she noticed discrepancies while updating financial and payment details. She reviewed his books, found numerous errors, and revised and corrected the entire thing. His customers adored her. Instead of a bored housewife snapping at them, she flirted with the men, and told the women how to fix the simple problems, saving them money. She was a natural and earned decent money for herself. Everyone was pleased, and Phil’s company hummed like a fine-tuned engine ever since.

Walker Plumbing—a business he’d inherited from his father—was a local shop in a suburb of Philadelphia. While struggling in school as a teen, he’d taken the job with his father. Aside from a short stint in the army, he never glanced back.

Toni didn’t have his problems. She inherited her mother’s gift for fine detail and was working on her graduate degree. When he asked if she really wanted to continue wasting her time, she insisted she loved working for him. “The job allows me to interact with a variety of people, instead of the stuffed shirts at college. It gives me time to keep up with school while letting me decompress while my mind drifts. It’s the best of both worlds, and I get to work for a terrific boss.”

He knew she’d eventually move on to better things. His son Taylor had, and was a dentist in Baltimore. But for now, she seemed happy living and working with him.

“I doubt we’ll get any calls, Dad. If there are, I’ll call, though if it’s all the same to you, I might call it a day and send everyone home if business doesn’t pick up.”

“Wait until after lunch. If we don’t get any new calls, you may as well. It’s been slower than usual lately. In the meantime, Doug can clean out his truck and you can get back to your studies.”

She laughed. “I keep telling you, I’m better off focusing on the office. That keeps my mind off my studies, so ideas can percolate. Don’t worry about me. I’m doing fine working here. Grab some lunch and I’ll wrap up the rest of this week’s paperwork.”

Phil ended the call and lowered his phone when struck dumb in the middle of the sidewalk. A lancing pain pierced his forehead, blinding him with its ferocity. His vision went white as he winced in agony. His knee buckled and he struggled to remain upright as his sudden stop put pressure on his old wound. Then the pain evaporated as suddenly as it appeared.

“Are you alright, mister?” a young man asked, grabbing his arm to steady him as Phil teetered on his cane. An old shrapnel injury from the first Gulf War made his knee unreliable, necessitating his cane, though he rarely needed it. What incapacitated him a moment earlier was gone, and he had no idea what triggered it.

He blinked away a few tears and took in his surroundings, trying to reorient himself. “I ... I think so. I ... don’t know what happened.”

“Whatever it was, it didn’t look pleasant. I thought you were having a heart attack.”

“It felt like it,” he replied, not bothering to correct him, “but it’s gone now.”

That wasn’t completely true. His head still ached, a dull reminder of the incident, yet it was tolerable, better than when his leg acted up.

Phil was forty-eight years old with unkempt wavy hair, a beard going white before its time, wrinkles, and the paunch and butt cheeks plumbers are notorious for. He worked hard, took pride in his work and concentrated on one task at a time, rather than worrying about jobs he hadn’t lined up yet. People respected his honesty. If he couldn’t get to a job right away, he’d tell you. He’d also refund money he didn’t feel justified in keeping.

He was heavy set, walking with a bit of a waddle, more like a tall Penguin—Batman’s nemesis—than a veteran of a past American war. He played up the image for all it was worth with the kids, surprising them with his occasional deft moves.

“Well, if it happened once, it’s likely to again. You should get it checked, whatever it is.”

“I will,” Phil assured him. “For now though, I’m okay. Thanks for your concern.”

“You sure you don’t need any help. It might reoccur.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got my phone. If it does, I’ll be sure to call 911.”

As the man walked away, shaking his head, Phil tried to recall what he was doing. Instead of continuing along Market Street to Guido’s Pizza, he searched for somewhere to sit for a few minutes. He then noticed his eyes playing tricks on him. He saw ‘floaters’, little black shapes obstructing his vision. Stopping to focus, it took a few seconds to realize the floaters didn’t actually float. Instead they remained steady, dancing in place, even when he turned his head. Glancing around, he noticed multiple isolated individuals had multiple dark forms swirling around their heads. Curious, he headed towards one, a man sitting in front of a shop, holding a cup and soliciting donations.

The dark shapes came into focus as he drew near. He recognized them, but they didn’t make any sense. They were demons, three in all, each about eight inches tall, fluttering around the man’s head. The beggar didn’t appear aware of them. Making the situation even stranger, they were naked, their tiny demon junk flapping with their motions. It was a disturbing display, but as much as he wanted, he found it difficult looking away.

He paused, gawking at the dancing figures until the beggar looked up, realizing he was being stared at, and lifted his cup.

Embarrassed, Phil dug in his pocket for some change. Approaching, he offered the man a ten-dollar bill as he studied the demons from close up out of the corner of his eye.

Rather than being black abstract shapes like floaters, or fuzzy and ill-defined like imaginary dream creatures, they were surprisingly realistic. The detail was amazing, including stubble on their chins, jiggling potbellies and twitching tails.

Having been caught once, Phil left the man behind, but began surveying those around him. He noticed other figures floating around other people. One woman coming out of a coffee shop had tiny dragons circling her head, while another had miniature fairies buzzing hers. Phil shook his head, trying to clear it, but they didn’t go away. Curious, he approached the woman, and when close enough, flicked one fairy dressed in a dark green dress.

He assumed they were figments of his imagination, but she felt real.

The fairy spun, glaring at him. Surprised by her reaction and the concrete, corporeal contact with a flesh and blood being, he took a step back. The tiny fairy, only about three inches high, flew towards him, only to veer away when she realized he was tracking her movements. She paused, mid-flight, and considered him, waving a hand to determine whether he could see her.

He did, and she fled when she realized he was aware of her, skittering to the others harassing the woman. It was then he noticed the sounds, as the one fairy yelled to her kin.

Phil was familiar with fairy lore because of his family’s background. He considered these more faerie than fairy. Fairies are light, humorous creatures featured in cartoons, while the ancient Irish faeries are dark, brooding and dangerous.

He considered that difference as he backed away, monitoring their response. Phil kept an eye out for more like them. The fairies in question, alerted, seemed to have a discussion, lowering the volume to whispers he couldn’t hear. A moment later, they rose in the air, observing him. When they did, the woman’s eyes opened wide and she paused, blinking as if surprised. She then shrugged and continued on. Her faeries followed, hovering in place watching him.

The source of this story is Finestories

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