I hail from the countryside, a pretty normal one. Everything fits exactly where it should, except my family and specifically me. Maybe it was because of my introverted nature that I never blended with them, but deep down I knew it too. I am not normal. I am exceptionally good at everything but my health. I am always suffering from random diseases. The reason is a Demon.
It was one of the 7 greater demons that once was sealed inside my ancestor and is now being passed down since. It was not a harmful possession. It was mostly a symbiotic relationship between us. I fed my emotions to him, and he blessed me with his powers (intelligence and charisma). Normally you can’t use his powers before his 3rd or 4th transition, but I was different. I was a moon child, so everyone thought I would die before the age of 6, but I survived and started to wield his powers.
Maybe I was 13 or 14 at that time. Somebody called me a “man eater.” I didn’t know then that I was possessed by a demon. So I narrated this to my parents, and they shrugged me off, saying that I once used to crave meat (everyone here is a vegetarian). Something was off, in my memory, I never even touched meat. It was the Demon and the truth was more sinister. I was 11 at the time, and I killed someone—not just killed; I ate his heart. They say that every 6 years the demon grows and transitions to an upper level, and for this transition he needs more emotion. That’s the reason I killed him while the village watched helplessly. The environment was filled with chaos and cries of terror. But the very next day they forget the man like he never existed. Every single sign of his existence disappears overnight, but they remember me. That’s the most painful part: seeing your loved one die a horrible death and then completely forgetting about his existence, leaving just a void where once someone existed. I was told about all this after my 3rd incident.
Life took some major turns in the meantime, and a failure hit me hard. It hit me hard enough to make me forget my 17th birthday. I guess 3 months passed when I met my friend “R.” He was a sweet guy but a little dumb in the social senses, like he used to do random things at random times. He said he wanted to give me a treat, and more than happily, I accompanied him.
On our way home, he was walking ahead of me. Something felt odd about his walking. He suddenly turned towards me. He charged at me with a knife. It pierced through my palms and stabbed my shoulder. He missed my vitals, and the cut was shallow. It didn’t hurt, and I started dozing off at the smell of my own blood. It was almost my 18th birthday, if we count embryonic life. It was the demon. I prayed, but I lost control and blacked out. The last thing I remember are his eyes. They were not afraid of me but filled with childlike curiosity, just like “B” was when I killed him. He was the closest person to me and my only friend. He was “B.” I can remember there was a girl standing shocked in the bright moonlight, too afraid to even move. I jumped at her, but “B” came between us. I pierced his neck and threw him to the ground, but his eyes were different—they were different; they were not afraid of me and not even angry at me. It annoyed me so much at that time that I gauged his eyeballs out before feasting on his heart. I think I will never forget them. I think I was coming back to my senses. It looked like I overpowered him. He was lying on the ground and was bleeding from many cuts that I had given him. He was looking at me with the same eyes. I tried to resist the urge. I still ended up drinking his blood, but his life was saved. This was a rare moment in history when somebody resisted the Demon. I know it was “B.” He saved 3 lives that day, including mine. Then I blacked out for good.
The next day, I walked up to the 6 elders from the council, and they explained all this to me. But why have they never told me this before? It was because the demon craves acknowledgement, and if you knew about it , you might have ended up acknowledging him before you were mature enough, and he might have taken over your body permanently. I think this is what one of the elders said to me while warning me about the demon. They speculated that the attack was caused by someone I knew, but everyone seemed to celebrate my safe return. It has been some weeks since the incident. My wounds are now completely healed, even the deep ones, but the stitches on my right hand still hurt while I write this.
You know why I am writing all this here? Because I crave acknowledgement, of course, as a writer.
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