Asmodeus

The wind is blowing past me. Why is it so quiet? I can feel the rushing air pouring over my face, my limp body, yet I can’t hear a thing. How could the world have become so quiet? Why did I jump? Things seem to be slowing. Everything is happening slower, I can feel it. My life before my eyes! Oh God! What drew me to the ledge? Why did I climb up to it? I’m looking from the sky to the ground—the ground! It’s coming to me slower. What is going on? I’m not far from old factory’s walls. A windowsill! Maybe, just maybe, I can grab it. All I have to do is stick my hand out. Can I save myself, or am I going to keep falling?

--------------------------

“Another guinness,” I said to the barkeep, slamming a bill down under my palm. A fresh mug was placed before me, and I continued to ponder the tragedies of the world. A rundown old bar—was this where I was meant to spend the rest of my life? Surrounded by the filthiest of the human element, decaying with the scum of the earth. A tragic irony; I was becoming my father.

I stared down my finger, and twisted the ring that resided there. Was this how the last of my family would wind up? Picking myself off the barstool, I straightened by back the best I could manage and sauntered out of the building. Home. I needed to go home. Sleep sounded better than anything at that point. I started walking.

Down a few blocks, left turn, a few blocks more; I was nearing my humble abode. I heard the sound of something banging, something like several feet walking over a sewer lid. Then I turned to see motion in the darkness behind me. Late nights were not good nights.

Walking faster, almost jogging, finally stumbling, I hurried as fast as I could to make it home. Home. I just wanted to go home. Why was this happening to me? A loud bang emanated from behind me and echoed against the buildings around me. I dropped to the sidewalk and noticed a copious blood flow from my leg. Not a lethal wound, but I thought that it would soon be joined by many lethal brethren.

“Get his wallet…and get that fuckin’ watch. That looks like nice shit, yo.” I heard those words, and from my spot on the ground, I saw some black Nike’s. My vision blurred from there to the point where I could see nothing else. A sharp pain soared across my forehead and a warm ooze quickly covered my face. More pains followed in my ribs, on my back, and to the rest of my body as I squirmed. They raided my pockets and pummeled me as I fought to breathe. At the edge of unconsciousness, the pain stopped.

No longer did I feel the ooze on my face, no longer did I have blurred vision. They took my money—I would have traded it for my life. They took my watch, and I was fine with it. But, at a last search, one of my attackers took the only remnant I had left of my grandfather. He took my ring. And I became a demon.

That ring was the only thing my grandfather had with him, save the clothes on his back, when he came to the United States with my grandmother many years ago. That small, gold ring was a family heirloom. It bore the initial of our now-unpronounceable family name, and so he took the name Lawrence to keep the initial intact. And that rat bastard took it from me.

I had been angry before, yes. Very angry, in fact. So angry I had broken many things and done incredibly stupid acts. Now, years ago, I tried meditation to find peace for myself, among many things, in an attempt to focus my energies and become what I felt I should be. But this was new. Something new was flowing through my veins. Something that was stronger. It was exciting. The analogy “adrenaline on steroids” comes to mind. This was something meditation never brought me. A howl came from me like no human had ever produced, and after this howl came cries of fear. I smiled and feasted on their fear like a vampire on blood.

Grabbing the thug with my ring by the neck with one hand, I lifted him off the ground and slammed him against the brick wall behind him. With my other hand, I completely enclosed his that held my ring, and crushed it. I did not just crush it. I destroyed it. He wailed out in pain as blood dripped from inside my fist. I let go, and saw nothing but a loose ball of flesh hanging off the end of his wrist. He dropped my ring to the ground and curled into a fetal position.

The banger with a gun shot at me and hit me. Twice, his bullets ripped through my torso before I got to him. I turned his own gun on him and pulled the trigger. His head exploded into a bloody mess. From the nervous shock, his own body pulled the trigger again as his arm dropped. I followed the bullet with my eyes as it pierced the chest of the crumpled figure on the ground, and he immediately released his stub to grasp near his heart. A final breath, and he was gone.

As quickly as my strength had come, it was gone. I dropped the body, leaned against the brick wall, and slid to the ground. Staring down the walk, I noticed that this had taken place in front of a factory. At one point, children’s toys had been made here. I laughed what I believed was my last laugh, and then received a shock. Two figured came out of the darkness of the sky and landed in front of me. My vision was blurring again, but I could tell they were wearing long coats that nearly touched the ground. From under their coats rose hoods to cover their heads. I listened to them.

“Quite a fight,” a deep male voice said to his partner.

“Indeed. Shot three times, and he’s still breathing. He didn’t even need my help.” This one was female, with a very smooth voice.

“The rage is strong with him. What released him in such a way?”

“That must have,” she responded, pointing to my ring. She bent down to pick it up, and I dragged my arm towards it. Too slowly, though, as she managed to grasp it in time. “Yes, this is definitely it. Look, the scratched the gem.” She pulled back her the sleeve of her coat and appeared to polish it on her arm.

“Well, do you think he might be one of the next ones?” Both of the tall figures stood over me, analyzing me with their eyes. I felt no fear, but a warm sensation crawled over me. The man’s question intrigued me.

“I’m not sure,” she answered him. “Perhaps we should watch him and see.”

“That sounds logical.”

“What should we do about this mess?” She was back to a more business-like attitude. The dreaminess of her last thoughts had gone.

“He acted in self-defense, for the most part. I don’t think that cleaning up the streets the way he did entails the need for the authorities. We should dispose of the bodies and return him home. Would you mind gathering his possessions?”

“Already done,” she said warmly. I just knew she was smiling, as she had moved with amazing speed to pick up my few personal items. Darkness overcame me, and consciousness left.