Demonic Tome Read online

  Donald's left eye twitched. Then a sharp pain, equivalent to a blinding bright white flash, attacked the right side of his brain. For a few moments Donald did not feel like himself. He had to stop walking. It was dark. He couldn’t focus. He was still aware of his surroundings, yet for some reason, he was filled with a desire to go to the kitchen and find not only the sharpest knife, but also one that gleamed. He wanted to stop himself, but found it impossible to turn back.

  I am not who you think I am.

  I am who you are. Nothing more, nothing less.

  After a long moment Donald slipped grudgingly toward the kitchen. Sweat commenced as his whole body was overtaken by extreme heat. He felt it radiate from his skin as if the blood underneath was boiling. He felt as though his body was expanding inside his skin.

  Who am I becoming?

  Silence...

  Donald reached the kitchen and everything in it seemed disconnected from the other parts of the house, everything except for the large knife lying on the counter. Gleaming magically.

  You know you want to hold it, to grasp its power in your fingers.

  Who are you? Donald pleaded.

  I will set you free.

  How will killing my father set me free?

  You already know the answer to that one.

  I will not do it.

  Kill them all, Donald. They are sound asleep. They will never know it was you.

  Another sharp pain, followed by swirling fragments of intense light, spiraled through everything he saw. It was hard to concentrate. He knew he was stuck. He had trouble breathing.

  Anything I think, this 'thing' inside my brain will instantly know. I can't butcher my family in cold blood. Especially Dad. I love them and would never harm them. I wouldn't even think of it.

  Ah, but you did.

  Maybe if I don't think you will disappear. Can I shut off my thoughts? Is that possible?

  You can't stop me. I know what you want. I am you.

  “Well, if that's the case..." Donald blurted aloud, and in one continuous motion he grabbed the knife and jabbed it deep into his own stomach.

  The pain was so intense he cried out, loudly, jerking the knife free and dropping it to the kitchen floor. He grabbed his stomach and fell to his knees. He lowered his head to witness a stream of blood pouring through his fingers—forming a sticky pool underneath him. He stared. His vision blurred, and the room started to spin. The pain diminished.

  Why did you do this to us?

  The last thing Donald remembered before waking up three days later was hearing a set of bare feet racing down a flight of stairs, and his letting out a wide grin as his head bounced off the kitchen floor.

  I won. Everyone is safe.

  #

  Wake up Donald. Wake up ... now.

  Darkness. Then darkness surrounded by brutal cold.

  Donald, I'm still here. You did not succeed.

  Donald ignored the voice. Instead he comforted himself in the fact that his family was safe.

  No one is safe. Not as long as I am here.

  “I can take drugs, asshole. I can get help,” Donald finally blurted aloud.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nothing,” Donald’s eyes popped open as he jerked his head to see a beautiful nurse standing over him.

  “Do you know where you are?" the nurse asked him.

  Silence...

  “Of course. I am in the place that will deliver me from my demon."

  “Alright, then. You are in the county hospital. You attempted suicide. Do you remember?"

  Donald, realizing he was lying in a hospital bed, let out a quick grin.

  “I wasn't trying to kill myself. I was trying to stop an invader inside my body from killing my family, from ravaging my soul."

  Can you comprehend how crazy you sound to that nurse?

  Stop it! You are the one that is crazy! I will kill you!

  Donald watched the nurse twist to quickly exit the room.

  "Wait! Let me explain! This isn't my fault! Please ... come back ... please ... where is my family?"

  I would never abandon you. You can guarantee that. I will always be here with you, Donald.

  I don't want you here. I want you to leave. I will ask the doctor to give me pills that will erase you from my mind. I will erase you from existence.

  You need to think this through, Donald. You will not be complete without me. I am here to grant balance to your life. You need me here. We are one.

  I don't care anymore. I can thank you for that.

  Donald, please, let me state my case.

  There is no case to state.

  #

  “Donald, this bipolar medication will help stabilize your emotions and make it easier to see the more positive side of life."

  Donald, don't take them! Please, you don't have to do this! We can maintain together!

  “Are there any side effects?"

  “Ha! What drug doesn't? Even though this drug originally targeted a lessening of one’s sexual desire, an overwhelming illusion of well-being may cloud your judgment of what is real and what is not. However, let me assure you that extreme side-effects are rare, and the benefits of Lithium outweigh the negatives."

  Donald, there is no easy fix here. Just give us a little more time. Please, I'm begging you.

  “Thanks, Doc. We are about to commit murder in the first degree."

  “Excuse me?"

  “There is a monster inside me. It wants me to do things that are not me. Lithium will kill the monster, so I am about to commit murder."

  The doctor removed his horn-rimmed glasses and leaned forward in his seat. He then rubbed his bald head. "Do you actually think that your disorder is separate from you?"

  Donald rolled his eyes. He knew he sounded crazy to the doctor, but that was okay.

  I thought a psychiatrist would understand?

  Donald, this is your last chance to do the right thing. I am real. Do you really want murder on your conscience?

  “Please doctor, just write the prescription."

  THE END....for now

  Daddy’s Little Girl

  Christopher L. Knives

  There was little light. It was the perfect setting for his dark charade, as he was the conductor of a gruesome and sadistic ploy. After violently shaking the family into fractured regiments, the scum of existence landed on his greatest manipulation. It was the daughter of a middle class family that was playing the corporate game—a family that lived for making the big impression, a mother that never stayed home for more than an hour and a dad who might as well remain nameless. This sacred piece of the family was a savored piece, as she was an example of how a woman of a youthful age should never be. She loved herself in way that begged for respect, skinning the very meaning of it into a belittled category of meaningless proportions. People used her as she let herself be used. She was more of a contaminated piece of filth that somehow bore a soul. She became one with her disease as it built a feeling of belonging within her. Unfortunately, the feeling of being alive only lasted as long as her partner.

  It was in her plot to go from pleasure to pleasure that gave the beast his reasoning, if there ever was any. Her craving for attention and for respect created a desire to sink to the bottom of the trough and become a wasted girl that fucked on camera. It wasn’t hard for her to force exploitations upon herself, but it was hard to earn a buck doing it. She didn’t live in Los Angeles, California. She lived in a small Wyoming town, which was the most underground place of places to start. She was doing the work of a porn star and getting paid a hooker’s wage, if even that. Hundreds of guys would treat her like an open house and wreck whatever orifice she had. They had full control of her and could have done her a favor. Being as helpless as she was, her life was spared for many months, and somehow, disease and pregnancy missed her. With the horde of men that she had endured, it was a blessing, but the only one she had.

  She lived at home, being the young, sweet, and loving teenag
er. Mommy and daddy never noticed her metamorphism. They only saw what they had time to see, and had little concern for it. She would kiss her dad with the same mouth that sucked on cock, swallowing every fluid as it made the strangers happy. She would hug her mom with the same arms that were tied up just the night before. She even used her brush to pretty up the hair that was stuck with cum. During the day, when school was in session, she would treat the boys all the same, as they were all equal in her eyes. They were nothing but a simple lay. It gave her no pleasure as they weren’t as experienced as their fathers and older brothers. Her essence had even been in the lap of a few teachers, who would forever go nameless.

  Her name was Angelina, and no matter how bad things got, no matter how hard dark would bind her, she remained senseless to her damnation. Her lack of concern would be the seed which would grow into a blossoming desperation. Her way of life had provoked trouble before, but nothing like the monstrosity of evil that came to her door. Her parents might have exposed a weakness, but her sick mind registered with someone’s dark and twisted desires. A being that lived with one command, something unknown and alien to our own sane beliefs. The creature never revealed why, but his composure spoke volumes. A thin, almost dying existence, which had sweat, slime, and other alien fluids covering his sickly pale skin. His boney frame was covered with rags, while broken chains hung from the limbs. It was obvious he escaped from something, but it couldn’t have been prison. It had to have been a creation of someone’s psychotic fantasies.

  Like an earthquake on a beautiful day, the filthy existence came out of nowhere and shattered their lives. It was the one day the family was together. Angelina’s father was about to head out the door to begin another day of lying and cheating when he was grabbed by a set of hands that bore iron links. It was crazy and a sudden shock to the only one witness, her mother. She was just smiling at her husband while observing the wonderful clear day outside, when the Beelzebub forced a curse upon them. She screamed loudly while her husband was pinned to the wall. With his face pressed against the surface, the walking scum revealed himself.

  The smell triggered a series of daggers, which pierced through the wife’s stomach, forcing her to vomit. Flies revolved around him as he was the center of disease, while the creep breathed into her husband’s ear. Shocked, confused, and obviously overpowered, her husband cried in a frantic wave, while struggling against the frail man’s strength. The design and form of the drywall was now engraved into the man’s wet flesh. He cried and pleaded in a way that was understandably cowardly. He was pinned in a position where his fate, which was once a love affair in jeopardy, became a horrific nightmare. The filthy existence pressed against the husband’s backside. The smell of fear and piss gave the stranger a certain high, which encouraged him to lick the skin. His mouth opened with a wall of drool and parting slime as the tongue emerged from the ugly abyss. It was rough with bumps, scarred with abuse, layered with disease-infused fluid, and something that would cause Ed Gein to flinch. With the monstrous instrument, which seemed to move with its own progression, the creature licked the husband’s face as if marking his victim.

  His wife continued to cry as she just stood there watching the horror fulfill his silent curse, trapped in a panic and confused by her sanity and self-awareness. She was crippled in a corner and enticed by the scene. However, something happened, and a glimmer of sanity came back to her. She bolted from the corner and raced for the phone with the police on her mind. The lord of flies, with his contagious stench, was too busy with her husband to notice. Her husband continued to cry while his chances of escape dwindled as those boney fingers wrapped around his neck. While the crude reality of the scene increased, becoming a grime ballet, the mother was able to make the call. Her words were barely coherent as they were rushed and unprepared. Even if there was a chance for the words to form a clear understanding, she dropped the phone in response to the stranger devouring her husband’s ear.

  With pain searing from his throbbing tissue, the husband began to push more desperately. His fingers pounded on the wall, as if it could free him from the pain. The creature grabbed ahold of the husband’s hand and slammed it without mercy. The bone shattering momentum of the onslaught slammed a crater into the drywall, rendering the hand into a bloody mess. Even with his hand injured to the point of severing, the man tried to fight. He screamed for help, which finally came as his wife plowed into the man’s back with a barstool. The flies flew off of his body as he fell onto his knees. After the first violent attack, the wife attempted to drive another blow. She built the momentum and, with the weight to her advantage, slammed another towards the spine of the being. The barstool slammed into the wood floor, as it missed the target, placing her into a vulnerable position. The fowl, sinister, and sweaty creature took his new game and slammed her into the adjacent door, forcing it off its hinges.

  Now it was the wife’s turn to play as the victim in this vicious and sadistic feasting. She couldn’t move. Her little squirms seemed to only drive the madness further into the dark that this sickness came from. The filth marked her with his tongue and then smiled. The mockery was thick and penetrated her hysterical panic, and there was no release. He made sure of that. His will was pressed onto her and no one was to save her. Her husband was still overcoming his tragedy. The long stringy hair draped from the sunken face as he positioned himself over her. She still tried to battle alone, but he was not budging, drooling more and more with a gaping mouth. He drove his teeth into the flesh of her cheek, tasting the blood. His claws were shredding through her blouse, revealing the plump breasts. He shifted his attention toward the luscious pair by sliding his mouth down her neck, piercing her skin with his sharp teeth.

  While she continued to bleed, her body was the target of a grotesque rape. Her will to fight was sparked into the greatest effort she probably ever had, but it was not enough. The man licked her nipples and, despite the situation, they were erect. His teeth teased with great awareness of the sensitivity. He would switch back and forth, making sure they were both pleased the same. Her screams were frantic, ear piercing and seemed to only compliment the horrid that was to lay her. The creature flopped onto the wife, releasing his ensnaring grasp. The father towered over him wielding a baseball bat, splattering blood. The creature performed a series of sly maneuvers and took advantage of a certain opening. The husband was placed against the wall as the creature continued his previous attempts. Blood gushed from his neck and chest as the monster fed upon the flesh. The struggle was great and the pain was far more intense than possibly imagined, because he was a victim of raw cannibalism. The creature’s mouth was actually chewing the meat and flesh as if it was his favorite meal.

  Alive and rendered nude by the creature’s will, the husband was now a subject to the greatest pain a man could ever experience, psychological if not physical, while his wife suffered in her own little world of morbid reality. The being treated the penis like a sausage with tough skin, tearing the nerves, splicing the skin and tissue. He let the husband go, and the collapse was of a sudden surprise. The cannibalistic savage turned to the woman, the squirming wife, and attacked her. The force of his desire was greater than before, as if increased by some sinister urge. He tore through her clothes and then took great care of her. His teeth bit into her like as if it was an apple, piercing her breasts and creating an uncontrollable blood pour. Feasting on her like a starved homeless person on Thanksgiving, her breasts were rendered into a mesh of tissue, meat, and twitching matter.

  All this took place in a matter of seconds, while Angelina ran down the stairs with an MP3 player on full blast. Her appearance was a mistake, one that was sure to cost her. She only caught a glimpse of the horrific scene, catching mostly just the blood. But it only took that and the element of the unknown, and that blood covered freak to trigger her instant reaction. She screamed a scream that was sure to be heard by the neighbors, but that did not bother the intruder, as he raced towards the door. Closed and locked, the doo
r stood before the savage and was the burden of a hundred blows. Frantically, his fists would crash into the wood—tearing his own hands—but that did not stop him. Piece by piece, the door came down, and he quickly took Angelina into his grasp.

  With limited light seeping in from the window, it was the perfect setting for his dark charade, as he was the conductor of a gruesome and sadistic ploy. With a new victim to feed his hunger, the psychotic evil posed with an obvious distraction. He was sniffing her scent, possibly smelling the many men that had been with her. He seemed enticed by it, as if it was an invitation to do more than just feed. There were items that caught his attention, the ones that the sweet teenager used to fulfill personal desires. He marked her with his tongue, but with a more elaborate wanting. The gross essence meshed into her skin and onto her lips. It was as if two worlds of opposite filth attracted these two, but this was one she would refuse. No matter what she said to him, no matter what she tried to do, it would only further increase his desire.

  He tied her down with the same ropes she used the other night. She still had the markings rubbed into her skin, and he seemed to notice, triggering a reaction. He was excited and used the emotion to shred what little clothes she had. Her breasts were bigger than her mother’s, giving him more to enjoy. Firmly, the ragged specimen of scum treated her breasts with a compassion that was common with most of her customers. He squeezed them with his bloody, crusty hands and forced his tongue down her throat. She reacted violently, biting into the lumped surface, but only to swallow a thick and puss-like essence. The situation was without hope, but was not that much different from the gangbangs she had encountered the previous week. She tried to fight, but in a more psychological way, fighting the existence of the filth, hoping that his desires would free her, as she had no choice.