Damien--Installment One

Light seeped under the dilapidated wood door, illuminating the dusty room with the shadowy glow of dawn; however, this light was soon reflected onto the timber ceiling by a pool of liquid on the floor. The wet spot on the floor, along with the tint of the light on the above ceiling, were both a deep crimson.1

The dust was still unsettled, as the constant barrage of wind kept stirring it up, and the entire room was filled entirely with floating dirt--dirt that was so thick that it was nearly impossible to breathe inside of this room.2

There was a thunderous knock at the door--more of a pound rather than a knock--that shook the entire wall. The human outside of this vibrating door started to yell into the room, as if his loud knocking was not enough, and had an obvious tone of aggrivation about him.3

“OPEN THIS FUCKIN’ DOOR! I SWEAR I’LL KICK THA’ GOD DAMNED THING DOWN!”4

The source of this ireful voice was a large, muscular male. He had short, brown hair that barely extended passed his skull, and he had a large scar that was the dominate feature of his face. This scar went from his neck all the way to his head, then curved across his forehead in a seven-ish shape. It was abnormally pink, and was the softest part on his entire head.5

This man waited two-and-a-half minutes before kicking the wooden door. Splinters flew across the dust-coated room; some chunks stuck in the opposite wall while others stuck into the bed, dresser and other pieces of furnature that decorated this ‘home’.6

The towering man stormed into the room, his nostrils flaring and the crudely built wooden floor creaking with each step he took. The floor was moaning in agony, as if it would break at any given moment from the weight of the man, and dust seemed to fall between cracks in the floor.7

“DAMIEN! WHERE THA’ FUCK ARE YA’?!”8

This voice boomed out into the tiny room, knocking dust from the walls and a picture that had been neatly hung up on a nail. The monstrous boot that this human wore on his irregularly gigantic foot stomped into the puddle of scarlet liquid on the floor, splashing some across the walls. This boot was lifted up just as suddenly as it had been placed down, lifting blood into the air along with the leather, and the male stared down in disgust.9

“Well, damn, I’ll be a sonuva’ bitch. Damien! Yer’ dead, ain’tcha’?”10

He chuckled to himself as he stepped over to the bed on the far east end of the shack. He threw the red quilt to the floor and stared down at the body of the man he had been searching for for the last three months.11

“The boss won’t be pleased…”12

“No, you’re right. He won’t.”13

The larger male’s eyes grew wide as the bloodied body sat up and grabbed him by his collar. Damien picked the man up and slammed him into the wall of his shack.14

“I built this little hut on the edge of this cliff for a reason, you know!” Damien laughed as his eyes started to turn red. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up for a long time, Malar. The ritual was a success! And YOU are my first test.”15

Malar stared into Damien’s crimson eyes in complete terror. He knew of Damien’s psychotic desires to become a demon, but could he have actually done it?16

“You see, my shack is on the edge of a rather large cliff in this desert. This cliff is several hundred feet tall, and the fact that this desert is famous for how long its sandstorms last doesn’t exactly make this cliff the best place to put a home.”17

Damien’s voice was growing increasingly deeper. It was getting a devilish tone to it--a tone that struck fear in the hearts of the bravest of men.18

“You just fucked up, Malar. You came after me. You’re my first victim, my first message to your damn boss.”19

Malar’s expression was a mixture of confusion and of horror. He was so horrified he couldn’t speak, he could only continue to stare at his demonic foe, taking in his entire figure: his face was sliced up; his hair was blood-crusted and tangly; his jaw was broken; his body had several holes in it; his clothes were raggly, torn, dirty, and bloodstained; and his eyes were progressively turning the darkest of reds.20

Damien slammed Malar into the wall again, smashing a post that held the ceiling aloft into splinters. The house started to rumble as the roof began to descend.21

Malar’s blood spilled across the face of his attacker, who opened his mouth to reveal rows of jagged teeth. A forked tongue extended from the mouth of this demon and lapped the blood off of his skull.22

“This will be one helluva’ ride!”23

Damien put his victim across his shoulders and sped towards the opposite wall once again. This time, however, the tiny house started to slide off of the cliff.24

Malar screamed in terror as the wooden figure fell hundreds of feet to the sand below, shattering into hundreds of pieces upon impact.25

Damien stood up, cracked his neck back into place, and started his trek towards civilization while chuckling to himself the entire time.