Page 20 of Devil Inside

Alwaysnow, now, now...

Never later. Never then.

Tonight is all we have.Back in the saddle,as they say. So... where do we begin?

With whom?

All eyes are on us. We feel them slither and slide, trailing after our body. We like this. The attention. We are wanted once more.Desired.It’s been so long. Lust is within us, and it resonates outward, penetrating all those around. A black hole at the very center of ourselves. Our proximity pulls others in, dragging them into our orbit. They all want to lose themselves within us. Succumb to us. Our ethereal undertow. Our voracious gravity.

Join us. Come and play...

They invite us to dance. Partake in the trivial pleasures they have to offer.

Have a drink, they offer.

Want a bump, they say.

Don’t be shy...

Their invitations mean very little to us, but we enjoy the hunger. The craven quality to their invitations. We bring this out from them, every last man and woman. We embody it.

We itch for more. Something glorious, something... angelic.We want to ascend to new heights of pleasure, just so we can drag these people down, down, all the way down.

More. Now.

Now.

We soak in the sound. We spin, closing our eyes and losing ourselves to the song, writhing to the rhythm, its pulse parallelling our own, riding it, dancing, dancing, dancing...

“Better be careful,” a voice warns.

We open our eyes to find a man standing before us. A canescent body. Older than our own. Forties, perhaps? Older? His thinning hair is already in retreat, receding across his scalp. He tries so hard to hide it, slicking it with grease. There is a flap of flesh that dangles from his chin, a wrinkled sac, that reminds us of a turkey wattle. It jiggles just so before us.

He’s so...thin. Not just his physicality, but his very being. A beanpole of a soul, all sinew and gristle. A tapeworm of a human being. There is no mirth behind his smile.

Will he do? Appease our need?

He leans forward, his breath in our ear. It reeks. “You can get hurt up here,” he says.

“Is that so?”

“You could use a lookout.” He smiles, exposing a crooked row of teeth the color of corn kernels. “Someone to keep an eye on you.”

“Are you offering up your eyes for us?”

His expression shifts, his smile slips. He is puzzled by us. Confused by our question.

We are bored already.

We give him our gift. Just a gentle caress against his chest. That simple breach between our bodies—contact—and we tip the scales. Push the balance. Just a tad. He doesn’t have that far to go on his own. His soul is already corrupted, no surprise. A piece of fruit left out in the sun. It won’t be long before he joins us. Another drop in an endless sea.

See you soon, darling... Enjoy the time you’ve got left.

Away we go. On to the next impressionable soul.“Love what you do,”they say—and I am very good at my vocation. I absolutely love my job.

Who’s next? We drift into the mix of limbs. Lose ourselves in the song. The sound burrows into our body, reaching in deep. A sonic assault. We enjoy it. The keening from the singer, the high pitch of his voice. It reminds us of home. All that wailing.

“You wanna watch where you’re going, hon...”