Welcome to Demonsville

"Mommy, will you wead me dis book? Pleeease!"

"Honey we already read 2 stories. It's time to go to bed now. And anyways, that book is really long and I need sleep, too."

"Please Mommy!!" The three year old child started to jump up and down and tears started to flow out of his eyes. He then threw the book on the floor. Balling, he climbed into bed, pulled the covers over his head and put a scowl on his face. His mother picked up the book that he had thrown on the grown. It was opened to a story called 'Fred and the Magic Light’. She picked up the book and stated to read it.

“Once upon a time, there was a young boy and his father that lived in a place called Demonville. Well that’s a weird name, now isn’t it honey. Oh come on out! I’m reading a story now, but if you don’t come out, I’ll think you’re sleeping and stop reading.” As soon as she said that, his small head popped out with a worried look on it.

“Me awake! Wead Mommy, wead!”

“Alright then”, said the about 25 year old lady to her son, “There were many different creatures in Demonville. There were monsters and dwarves. Humans and dinosaurs. Kings and queens. Giants and beans. Demons and cherubs. Big trees and small shrubs. Lots of gear could be found there. As well as things that were different. Very different…”Her voice trailed off as she turned the page. The small boys eyelids were starting to get heavy.

The woman slowly turned the page to see a gray whirlpool with a red figure inside it. You could hear horse’s hooves coming from the book. As the picture became clearer, the galloping became louder. She leaned closer to see a red, half human half horse with horns coming from his head. It had wings like eagles and carried a pitch fork in its left hand. It then dropped its pitchfork and was now riding towards her. Before she could close the book on the figure’s arms reached out and grabbed her by the neck and pulled her in. Then the book closed, and the boy slept peacefully for the next hour or two.

He started to have weird dreams that turned into nightmares. He saw the creature, in his dream; he didn’t know what it meant. All he saw was his mother being grabbed by this creature and pulled into the gray swirl. He saw the creature holding his mother by the hair and dragging her down, down, down…

Colin Hewitston always had that dream. The dream of his mother being taken into another world, from just turning to a page in a book. Of course that could have been the case. No one ever opened that book. But the story that his mother was reading was called ‘Fred and the Magic Light’. He had fallen asleep before she finished. But it couldn’t of been, true. He remembered that morning. His dad and brother, Timmy, running all through out the house for Mom. She wasn’t at work, a friend’s or a relative’s house. He remembered Dad looking him straight in the eyes, shaking him by his shoulders. Trying to bring back forgotten memories. His dad kept asking the same questions. ‘Did you see anyone? Did you hear anyone before she left? Did you hear or see or anything?!’ It was hurting his head. Dad kept on asking and asking and he didn’t know. He was sleeping the whole time. If only he wasn’t. Maybe Dad wouldn’t hate him so much.

“Colin! Why heck aren’t you up yet!!” he yelled, hitting his 8 year old son upside the head. Colin had been through a lot over the last 5 years. His dad had pretty much blamed his mother’s death on him. He was only 3 years old when it happened. Timmy, his older brother, was in an over night counseling session because he had tried to hang himself from the chandelier in our foyer. Timmy was the one that always protected his father from hitting Colin. Now that he was gone, Colin was getting beat. He tried to call the police before but his dad always managed to send them away. Then, he would get a good, painful beating with a stick, or sometimes, just his dad’s fist. His dad was an ex-pro football star. He still had most of the muscles he had back then. He was only 29 and had retired because of a major injury on his right leg. That was always his weak spot. So if Colin was ever left alone long enough to recover, he would kick his dad’s leg as hard as he possibly could. Sometimes he would be able to call 911; sometimes his fingers barely go to touch the phone.

It was summer vacation, but for him it was like Hell on Earth. His dad made him do all the chores of the house and beat him every time he finished one. If only he could get away somehow. But how? How did Mom do it? He wondered. She died. But he couldn’t kill himself. His dad would hurt Timmy. He didn’t want Timmy to get hurt. Colin loved Timmy more than he loved himself. He was the one who had found Timmy hanging by the chandelier when he was assigned to clean the chandelier. At fist Dad didn’t listen. At first he just threw him against the wall with one wave of his fist. When the dad finally figured out that he was talking about Timmy, they both saw Timmy’s face – now a purplish blue color – his body daggling from the chandelier; his eyes wide open, looking in two different directions. So his dad climbed up on the ladder and untied the cloth around Timmy’s neck. He took his limp son down and told Colin to call the ambulance. Colin stayed still. He was still scared to death from the look on Timmy’s face. The face of death; staring right at him.

The bellowing voice of his father spooked him out of the state, and he ran for the phone.

But that was a long time ago. Now he was here. Here suffering. He’s dad’s fist came smashing down on to his face from above. He fell to the floor whimpering. His dad pulled him up from the floor by his hair, then threw him back on the floor. The eight year old started to cry, but tried to hide it from his father.

“This is no time to stare off into space,” his father yelled at him. “You work! You don’t do anything but work in this house!”

He smacked the eight year old up side the head, then went back to reading his paper. He always read the paper but mostly the sports section. He always liked to see the scores for the football games, whether old or new. Every day he would read his paper while Colin cleaned the wood floor of the living room. He never wanted to be disturbed but while Colin was cleaning, he would always sit in the living room and either accuse Colin of missing the spot where his feet were, or disturbing him while he was reading. No matter what though, Colin always got beat. Today Colin went around his father’s feet. And before his dad could beat him or tell him to clean up his footprints, he ran to his room and found the book that his mother had read to him mixed in with all his bloody clothes from the harsh beatings. He took the book and moved his hands over the words written on the cover. He cleared off the dust with his hands to see the words ‘Tales of Demons and Angels’. His face turned with horror. His mother –

His father kicked down the door and stamped in angrily. His face was bright red and he had a bloody nose. Colin looked up in horror. His father grabbed him by the neck and raised him into the air. His teeth were bared with the blood from his nose smeared on them. His eyes burned red with fire. It reminded Colin of his dream. The creature grabbed his mother by the neck; dragged her down into Hell. That’s where she had been dragged down. It wasn’t any other place but Hell. In a simple story book was the entrance to Hell. He could barely believe it but he now knew what those dreams were for. They were messages to where his mother was. He needed to get to that book. He needed to get to it now.

All of a sudden, Colin was flying through the air. He landed on his bed face down. He looked up to see his father’s fist hit his brother’s face. He thought he heard the crack of his brother’s cheek bone. Timmy fell to the ground, then his father turned around, even madder, fire burning in his eyes, his whole body bright red. He started to get stronger, his feet turned into hooves, horses legs appeared from the lower part of his back, and wings, giant wings, the size of eagles, sprouted from his back.

Colin had now made it beside his brother. He remembered that… that creature; that demon. That demon had taken their mother into Hell. That demon was their father. Colin took a glance at the book lying on the floor. He started to crawl towards it then stopped when he saw his father’s red hands reach down and open it. He climbed into the book and it closed behind him.