Canton Writes: Compeller

d

From the depths of Hell, I rose. Deep, thick smoke swirled around me. I breathed in deeply. My nostrils tingled and my lungs burned as they were engulfed with flames. I let my chest rise high as I greedily took in large whiffs of the smoke from the smoldering flames. I breathed out, satisfied.

Fire blazed around me, trying to lick my body, but a layer of protection surrounded me, sheltering me from the scorching crimson waves that leaped at me. As I rose through the deep, jagged crevasses in the ground, the flames disappeared, replaced by an airy blue that hovered overhead.

I soared over the streets and the clusters of people, each one unaware of the world below them or of their inevitable fates. Swerving around, I dove into an unsuspecting young man, standing in line to purchase a hot dog. I drove in deep, pushing and pressing; I consumed his soul. My teeth gritted. He resisted, though only for a moment, and then he broke, suddenly lashing out and throwing the lady in front of him to the ground. People rushed to help her up and others stared unsteadily at the man from a distance. The young man, eyes wide with astonishment, backed slowly away from the scene as he stuttered an apology. I ascended once again into the sky, searching for another target.

He was too easy and now my thirst came back stronger than before. I circled overhead in pursuit of a more substantial target. From above I spotted a familiar face. My eyes narrowed as they focused on the young child. She sat kneeling on the ground with her fingers cupped around a warty toad.

I grinned and licked my lips. She would be difficult to break; I had never dared to try before, but my thirst, my craving, was too strong to resist. I had been dead four years and now was only a spirit from Hell, each of us only having one job: to compel those who were living to do evil. A thirst to fulfill this task was embedded in our very souls and the more evil we compelled in the world the more we thirsted to compel even more. Our greatest successes were those in which the living were effectively compelled to undertake the mission of compelling.

The girl was hunched over so that her golden locks fell around her hands blocking out her and the toad from the rest of the world. She carefully stroked between the toad’s eyes with two fingers, as she whispered softly into its ear.

My eyes narrowed and I let out a soft chuckle, as I swooped in from above to take hold of her spirit. I pressed and drove; I forced harder, focusing all my energy on getting her to some act of evil, any act of evil. Instead she let out a squeal. “Stop. Please stop. I won’t do it. Please just leave me alone,” She pleaded and cried. I removed myself from her soul, taken aback. Was it possible that she was aware of my presence? Of the force attempting to drive her to evil?

Astonished, I gaped at the young girl, who had resumed her play as soon as I had released her body. My lungs burned and I was panting; I hadn’t realized how much energy had been taken from me. I studied the girl who had felt my presence, watched as she quickly resumed her careless play, searched her content face, which displayed only small signs of the woman that was to come, for any change from being possessed. I found no answer.

Dusk came, yet I remained. Rain began to seep from the dark, heavy puffs overhead, yet still I remained. Dark came and I looked at the house behind the girl as I wondered where the mother was to call the little girl inside. The girl still sat crouched low in the shadows of the tree with her soft fingers carefully clutching the toad.

The full moon gave off a luminous shine that reflected on the damp pavement. The wind howled to the distant moon and the leaves surrounding the girl rustled and danced in response. The streetlights gave off a dull yellow glow and they flickered and sputtered. I waited and waited until I knew waiting would do nothing. I waited and waited until my fingers shook with anticipation. I waited and waited until I was overcome with the thirst, the thirst of compelling what has never been compelled.

I drove in with force. She shrieked and cried for mercy. I had none. I pushed and then I pushed again. Harder. And harder. Until she broke. The innocent and pure spirit broke. She let out a roar as she whipped the powerless toad to the ground. The toad’s body now lay limp and helpless on the wet grass, his eyes dull and glossy. For her, the cycle had begun.

My head pounded and I felt feeble, but my thirst was now satisfied. I rose into the air, stopping only to look back at the new evil I had overturned in the young girl. My young girl. My eyes widened, though only for a second, as I turned my back on my daughter and once again descended into the depths of Hell.

Short URL: https://www.thecantoncitizen.com/?p=15253

Posted by Guest on Jul 25 2012. Filed under Featured Content. Both comments and pings are currently closed.