WEBMASTERS TALES
A Demon In My View
(NOTE: The following
events occurred after my experiences in
Guardian Tale...)
In 1984,
near Port Townsend Washington, I was single and lived alone in one side of a
rented duplex. The rent was low and I didn't have a lot of bills, but it
was still a struggle at times to to pay them and have enough to
eat. My job was within walking distance of my house, and if I wanted
to go into town I could hop the local bus. Thanks to an excellent route,
non-drivers like myself could pretty much get anywhere they needed to go without
having to depend on someone else to take them. You still can.
While living
there, I met "Michael". Although I didn't know him very well, I liked him,
and enjoyed talking with him. He had many health problems, both emotional
and physical, but he was determined to overcome them.
Michael
had been in Viet Nam. I don't know where he was stationed, or how many
tours of duty he had gone through, but it was my understanding he had been
injured by Agent Orange, and he also suffered from Post Traumatic Stress
Syndrome. If memory serves, I believe he had also injured his back or
something, which required pain medication to help with the chronic pain.
I just
flat-out LIKED Michael. When he came
into the dining room where I worked for lunch or just to have some coffee, I was usually happy
to see him, and would sit and talk with him if I was on a break. I found
him interesting to talk with, and I tried to encourage him to keep working on
his health recovery efforts when he would talk about it.
But...I
wasn't ALWAYS glad to see Michael...it was nothing he was doing; he was never
once anything other than friendly and pleasant to me...but sometimes, when he
would come into the room, I couldn't stay in there with him - I would
have to leave. This wouldn't happen very often, but it was all I could do
at times not to RUN away from him. Sometimes, this would happen when we
had been talking for awhile, and it even happened a couple of times when one of
us was in the middle of a sentence. I would suddenly say, 'I'm sorry, I
HAVE to go now..." Michael always seemed to understand my odd behavior...
The cause for my
abrupt departures? Michael wasn't always alone. On his right
shoulder, riding there, perched securely with clutching toes and fingers grasped
tightly to his collar and his hair, Michael often carried a hideous
passenger. I thought of it as a demon - it could not have been anything
else.
When I tell this
story, the first thing people demand to know is, 'what did it LOOK like?' You're
probably wondering the same thing as I write this, so here is the description:
It was hairless
and naked, about the size of a Chihuahua, in fact looking to me like a hideous
cross between a Chihuahua and a bat, with some human characteristics. It
had huge ears, long narrow eyes, a pushed in nose, and yellowed, very sharp
pointed teeth. It's arms and legs were very thin, with long fingers and
toes, and it had a pot belly. It crouched on Michael's shoulder, clinging
to him, laughing and chattering and whispering into his right ear. Oddly
enough, I couldn't HEAR the monster (for which I was grateful) - I could only
see it. Apparently it's words and chatter were meant to be heard by
Michael alone.
Michael never
acknowledged the creature when it was there. He never faltered in his
speech, nor looked startled when it would suddenly climb up his back and settle
itself on his shoulder; he didn't look relieved nor seem any happier when it
apparently wasn't with him at all. It was as if to Michael's mind, the
demon was so ordinary, so inescapable, so much an accustomed burden, a
part of his life, it wasn't anything to refer to. He never tilted his head
towards or away from it's chatter in his ear, it's laughter. He never
glanced over to look at it.
Michael knew,
however, that I knew it was there, and when. He knew exactly what I was
referring to when one day, I
said to him, "I want you to know that when I do that, (leave suddenly) it's not
you."
He nodded.
"I KNOW," he told me... we didn't bring it up again.
Michael had a
girlfriend, 'Sarah'. I became acquainted with Sarah separately from
Michael - I liked her very much also. One day we started talking about
Michael, and I mentioned his 'passenger.' To my quiet horror, Sarah told
me that when Michael was younger, he had apparently been in a motorcycle gang.
The 'leader' was fascinated with the occult and Satanism, and he began
performing ceremonies, etc., with Michael and the others participating, even
when they were unwilling to do so.
Sarah explained
that to her understanding, one night the leader held a ceremony with the other
members present to call up demons. The demons came, but the leader had
neglected to learn how to send them BACK before summoning them, and so could not
banish them. Not long after this horrific event, several members,
including the leader, DIED.
And Michael had
his passenger.
It's been many
years since I knew Michael - a long time since I've heard Sarah's explanation
for the horror that was attached to him. I don't know why I could see the
demon - I couldn't see it as clearly as I normally do - it was as if my physical
sight and the sight of my mind's eye coordinated to show me the monster. but
there was no doubt I could see it - it was there. It only seemed to
be aware of Michael; it never looked at me, nor acknowledged anything or anyone
other than it's 'host' as it laughed and chattered and clung tightly with it's
long bony clawed fingers and toes.
I don't tell
this story very often -- just typing it out here, my stomach is twisting a bit.
But since these events, whenever someone scoffs and insists that the paranormal,
and all it's inhabitants aren't real, don't exist, aren't possible, I think of
Michael's demon, the cause of the statement under the title of this website...
"You Can't Tell ME There's 'No Such Thing'."
-Webmaster.