He stops at a river, its swelling water thrashing along submerged boulders. Kota sits beside it, realizing he has no reflection within the ripples. Am I what that thing was? I’m a demon??? He touches his spiky teeth; each one molds into points at the end. Kota senses heat within his irises. His fingers trace his eyelids. What’s wrong with my eyes??! He squeezes them shut as tight as he can.
What’s wrong with me?!! I tried to kill my parents! Why did I do that? I need their help!! My dad warded me off like an animal. My mom… and my sister are frightened of me. My family… my blood! Kota digs his hands into soggy dirt, shaking uncontrollably. Who will help me if they won’t? Tears stream from his devilish eyes. Who?
I will help; the inner fiend comforts him. All you must do is listen to what I say.
“I won’t!”
To survive, do as I say.
“No... you made me this way! This isn’t me. You did this!! GO AWAY!!”
You will lose; the lack of blood will defeat you.
“I don’t care…”
Good… rid yourself of emotion. Feel less to have desire. This life requires that. Let go of all the care you have. Humans are for food and pleasure. I will show you.
A beating heart fills his ears. The chambers of the organ pulse and chitter. The delicious scent of sweet plasma hypnotizes him. The taste of desire… His mouth overflows with saliva. He gulps to ease his fiery throat. The pulsing heart is full of stocked veins. The swishing liquid traps Kota’s mind.
The smell is just as great as the taste. The devil within persuades him: Have a drink.
Kota’s eyes dilute black, a colorless pit. He’s puppeteer’d ahead by the evil influence. “I will have a drink,” he says in a zombie trance. Kota’s legs whip the air. He utilizes the sound of the heart to track down his meal.
Downtown Tahlequah has many storefronts. A man enters an ice cream shop. The bell attached to the door rings. Kota shivers at the chiming, shielding his ears. He observes the man chatting with the cashier while pointing to the vanilla flavor. Kota smells the creamy dessert, but it doesn’t compare to the blood. He takes a big whiff, savoring the tantalizing aroma.
Look to the car. The dark voice instructs.
Kota does so. There’s a sedan parked on the curb. A woman and two children are within. The man exits the shop with four vanilla cones. “Alright, off to the movies we go.” The father opens the driver’s door. “This means no asking for candy once we’re there. Alright?”
“Okay!” The little boys say in unison as they hang from the window.
Their father hands them the ice cream, then goes inside, closing the door. He hands his wife the other cones. “Sit back and buckle up.”
Kota zeros in on the green veins bulging from their hands. A sloshing river of desire flows through each vessel. He takes a long sniff. The delicious flavor of their plasma attracts him. He zips toward the car, not caring that the shop worker sees. Kota rips off the side door, where the mother is. The woman squeals, horrified. The father reaches for the glove compartment. The children scream.
He goes for the mother’s neck, sinking his razor teeth into her hot skin. The father pulls out a .45 handgun but pauses to ogle in fright. His wife is being fed on. The gun shakes in his palms. Kota sucks her blood. The liquid electrifies his tongue. He groans in delight, craving more. The father shoots three times. Kota is unfazed by the bullets. The rounds rip through his clothes instead of his skin. There’s no pain. Kota withdraws. Blood splashes the white ice cream.
SLICE THEIR NECKS!!
Kota obeys his dark half and preys on the father, slicing his throat. The man chokes on his own blood. The kids drop the gory cones and pull at the door handles. Kota’s nails grow into claws. The two boys pause and watch the talons grow. He cuts their throats. The children slump unconscious. Kota slurps on the father’s neck, tearing the flesh to shreds with his jagged teeth. The long gulps of blood lubricate his lungs. His dead, flat organs swell.
Every ounce of red is drained within minutes. When no more exits, Kota climbs back to the children. Just as he’s about to consume the little ones, whiteness blinds the car. On the window is a symbol—two arrows facing a circle in the middle. It brightens the car’s interior. Odina and Matto swipe the glass windows, duplicating the drawing. Their son’s eyes flicker from black to white.
NOOO! LOOK AWAY!! The demon warns.
It detests the rune, which wards off evil. Kota, its host, is hypnotized by the brightness from all four windows. The menacing presence evaporates from his mind. The black eyes fade away. Kota falls unconscious.29Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1QqEYoJ4nZ
