Congress With Demons

You’re going to die.
“Someday, yeah.”
Not in the mists of “someday,” but some time more immediate.
“Will Eishka die?”
She can’t die, she’s a demon.
“What does ‘agape’ mean?”
Love thy enemy.
“What kind of bullshit is that? Why aren’t you helping me?!”
You’re just going to have to trust me, boy.


Dun and Taylor ate another bland lunch at the thrift store. Eishka had been claiming some kind of general malaise of late, refusing to leave her bed. The administration let her be and Taylor, out of some unusual instinct of protectiveness, volunteered himself for the first time in his life.

Taylor pulled a package of Twinkies out of the paper bag and frowned.

“They really shouldn’t feed us this shit.”

Dun shrugged and peeled one from its’ cardboard backing. After chewing and swallowing half of it, he cleared his throat and looked directly at his new co-worker.

“I know you think I’m crazy. You do, don’t you?”

“You hear voices. I mean, that’s pretty much the standard definition right there.”

“Not voices. Just one. And it’s never been wrong about anything. But sometimes I did what I wanted anyway.”

“Like burn your house down.”

“Yeah. It kept telling me to just deal with it, what my stepdad was doing, that something was going to happen to make him go away. But I couldn’t take it any longer. It told me all the bad things that were going to happen if I tried to kill him. But I did it anyway.”

“Did it tell you ‘bout this?”

“No, not until I asked. But I’m going to die.”

“What you talkin’ ‘bout? You mean Malik’s gonna kill you instead?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s the other thing. There’s something wrong with me.”

Taylor laughed, and at the sudden mirth Dun flinched, looking at the thin and pale man across from him as if he too were an apparition, another facet of a disjointed personality.

“No shit - you mean other than the fact that you’re crazy?”

“Yeah. I think maybe I have a brain tumor. My head hurts all the time now. Maybe that’s why I hear the voice, I dunno. Wasn’t there a Stephen King story like that?”

“Uh-huh. The Dead Zone. Well, not ‘xactly, but sorta. That guy was in a coma and when he woke up he was all psychic-like. What, you think you’re psychic? My momma thought she could be a psychic, but the Bunco Squad busted her for fortune-tellin’ without a license.”

“I don’t know. I only know about things that have to do with me. I guess it doesn’t matter now, anyway. What about you? If Kahil is your father that means you’re only half human.”

“Man, I dunno if that was a dream or what. I mean, how could anyone really believe somethin’ like that?”

“C’mon dude, you know. Don’t start going all clinical on me now. You’re the only one I can talk to about this. It’s important.”

“Okay, okay, calm down. But you can understand why it’s kinda unreal to me, right?”

In response, Dun went to find Eishka’s photo album. After searching the back room, he finally found it at the bottom of a pile of boxes containing old books and magazines. Obvious, but almost too obvious to be the starting point of a search.

She’s a lot smarter than she lets on.

Dun nodded. The Voice had always been a separate entity for him, requiring a more definitive reaction than a mere unvoiced reply. He returned to the counter and laid the book in front of Taylor, turned to the last page.

“That’s him?”

“Yeah.”

Taylor put his fingers on the page, but was careful not to touch the photograph itself.

“Wow.”

“It’s creepy, isn’t it,” Dun began, moving back to the stool he had occupied, “how he and Malik are identical.”

“Naw man, they ain’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at him, look at me.”

“Yeah, I could see it after she first showed me the picture. You’re blond and all that. You’ve got the same cheekbones.”

“You not only crazy but you blind too – I ain’t blond!”

“Yes you are!”

“Boy, this hair ain’t nothin’ but a weird-ass shade of gray that’s gotten me branded for a freak my whole damn life!”

“What?” But try as he might, Dun could not discern the allegedly correct perception. Taylor’s hair looked the same as those in his own family, a shiny gold, the sort of color which glistened in sunlight, immediately noticeable and desirous.

Taylor shook his head. “Do I look like that monster to you? I ain’t pretty like Malik.”

“They’re the same! Even Eishka said so.”

“And I’m sayin’ they ain’t. But dude, look at him. . .he’s just so, I dunno, beautiful.”

“Yeah.”

“Now seriously, what the hell am I supposed to say when you tell me you’re gonna die? It’s been nice to know ya? Some shit like that?”

“I just wanted somebody to know. That’s all. Dr. M. is sending me to the hospital in a couple days.”

Finishing lunch, Taylor’s dry chuckle finally broke the silence.

“What?”

“Now ain’t this a bitch? I’ve been tryin’ to kill myself for years and ain’t done it, but you’re the one who’s gonna die. That’s some goddamn irony right there.”

Dun couldn’t laugh, but he remembered all the times he thought he would expire from one thing or another and managed to duck the headstone. Now he could only wonder why now, or rather, acknowledge the question and the answer, even if he couldn’t articulate the particular intuition that a sacrifice was required.

“What is irony, anyway?”

“It’s when somethin’ is fucked, that’s what it is. So is there anythin’ ya wanna do before ya die? Get laid?”

Dun gave Taylor a hard look, puffed up with what remaining pride he possessed. “I’m not a virgin.”

“Now I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout that. You know what I mean.”

“No.”

“Anythin?’ Get drunk, get high –“ At this they both laughed, given the particularly pharmacological focus of their lives in the mental health monolith. “ – run naked through the streets – anythin?’”

Dun became serious, suddenly, giving the question actual thought. “I guess, maybe, I want to know what it’s like to be loved.”

Taylor sobered as well, looking towards the opposite wall though Dun guessed from his expression that he was really viewing a specific thought related to their exchange. Blinking several times he then said, “Yeah. Me too. I guess Dr. M. would say I’m bein’ negative if I think that it ain’t gonna happen.”

“I know. It’s not negativity, it’s the truth.”

Taylor suddenly fidgeted, and Dun knew the conversation was making him uncomfortable. He stood up and stretched, his fingertips nearly touching the shelving set into the wall behind him.

“Don’t nobody ever come in here?”

“Not during the week.” Dun glanced out the front window at the street, and saw a figure jaywalking in their direction. “Looks like someone’s coming now, though.”

An elderly gentleman entered the shop. Dun was used to patrons giving him a cursory glance upon arrival, but this man walked right up to them and for a strange moment Dun could view himself and Taylor from the other man’s perspective. He saw a broad-shouldered somewhat stocky (from the meds) kid with an extreme buzz cut, facial scars (from being jumped at Juvenile Hall and the work farm), and washed-out green eyes that sometimes looked yellow; whose fingernails were bitten to the quick; who disliked looking at people’s faces. He also saw a lanky somewhat older guy who despite numerous scars seemingly everywhere on his body save his face and neck was attractive in an almost otherworldly sense: with chiseled cheekbones which called attention to wide bright eyes, a flawless nose and full mouth, glowing thick hair that seemed to fall just perfectly onto his shoulders. And for once, instead of viewing Taylor’s attractiveness as a threat, he understood how such beauty could do good in the world, at the bottom of the tree.

But like a palpable scent, the man’s covetousness was obvious. He licked his lips and stared openly at Taylor, and Dun knew what he was thinking, specifically.

Haven’t seen something sweet like you in so long. Just want to touch that hair, oh I bet it’s soft, so soft. Like the feel of holding back your hair while you’re sucking my dick, oh that would be nice, so nice.

A jarring shudder brought Dun back to himself.

“Dude,” he whispered to the other, turning his back on the man, “go out to the car and lock yourself in.”

“What?”

“This guy is lookin’ at you all weird.”

Taylor looked from Dun to the other man, who smiled, displaying stained dentures. He tilted his head to put his mouth against Dun’s ear.

“Fuck that! If this guy makes a move on either o’us I’ll beat his ass from here to Sunday.”

Dun swiveled his head and in his best let’s creep out the civilian manner he asked, “Can we help you sir?”

The greeting had some visible effect as the man became flustered. “Well, ah, I was wondering if you had any. . .any. . .”

Dun increased the strength of his glare tenfold while Taylor folded his arms over his chest and gave his own version of the withering glance. At this, the man took a step back. He began drooling. Strangled sounds emerged from his mouth and he left the shop, floundering against the door. Once out in the street he ran across without watching for oncoming traffic. At least two cars screeched to a halt in the wake of his passage, their horns an angry piercing sound.

Dun looked back at Taylor, startled by the luminance of his eyes.

“You scared the crap out of that guy. How did you do that?”

“I’m just scary, man, don’t ya know that? My whole damn family is scary. I told ya, we had to move out of town. People thought we was cursed, or somethin.’”

“And now you know why.”

Taylor ruffled his perfect hair and snickered. “Boy, I always knew why, it’s just that now I know who and how.”


Sucked down into yet another whirlpool dream of torment, this time by the group of thugs, ground down and hardened like stone by life in the foster care system, who seemed determined to both fuck and fuck with Dun until he was either dead or completely insane. Experiencing a remembrance of the time they threatened him with two pieces of a broken bottle, jagged and sharp, one held against his neck and the other poised over his penis, Dun squirmed and whimpered in his sleep.

Don’t even twitch, you pansy-assed fuck, or we will cut you. Try not to breathe too much, either, okay?

Then the power went out.

The ambient hum which was omnipresent in the facility ceased and nearly every resident who had fallen asleep without benefit of pharmaceuticals woke up in unison, mightily confused. And depending on their dreams, frightened, aroused, or sad.

Waking up sad was usually the worst.

A loud volley of clicks sounded down the hallway.

“Oh Christ on a Harley,” one of the monitors said aloud. He thumbed the call button on his two-way radio. “Chris, go check the generator.”

“What happened?”

“What do you think happened, genius? The fucking power is out! We need emergency lighting in the hallways now!”

“Get out your tazer, dude. Del just reported all the doors are disabled. Including Lockdown.”

“Yeah I figured. Which is why you need to get your ass out there and check the circuit.”

“I’m goin,’ keep yer goddamn panties on.”

Dun, wide-eyed in the total darkness, found himself standing at the door without knowing exactly when he had climbed out of his bed. He turned and looked over at Nate’s side of the room. He could discern a shape in the bedclothes, hear a faint snoring. He opened the door and looked into the hallway. Around a nearby corner he could see the dancing shadow of a flashlight, but none of the monitors were in his immediate view. Stepping out, he walked right into someone and stumbled back across the threshold, sputtering obscenities.

“Shut it, Dun! Do you want to get us caught?” Taylor hissed at him.

“Well shit, you could have said something instead of letting me walk right into you!”

Dun attempted to calm down, listening for any untoward noises. He heard a few far-off moans and shouts, but none of them were the perilous discordance he had expected to hear.

“He did this.” Taylor said, and Dun did not have to ask for the identity of the pronoun.

“How are we going to get to Eishka’s room before he does?”

“Dude, he’s already there.”

“What? How do you know?” Dun asked him, running a hand over his head and peering out into the hallway once more.

“I just do. C’mon, act like you’re gonna vomit.”

Dun doubled over and coughed, then made choking sounds. They heard footsteps as one of the monitors came running towards them. He stopped short when he saw Dun’s demeanor.

“What’s up, guys?”

“Greg, man, I was on my way to the john and I heard Dun fixin’ to hurl.”

“Okay, you guys go on, but return to your rooms when you’re done, alright?”

“Yeah man, sure thing.”

Taylor led Dun away and as they passed into another hallway, Dun suddenly stood up, wiping at his mouth.

“Okay, I can’t keep doing that or I will throw up for sure.”

“Well I figured since you been in Juvie you know all about fakin’ sickness and such.”

Dun reflexively rolled his eyes then moved up the hallway at a trot, looking around him all the while. Reaching another intersection, he saw what seemed to be a convergence of light, as if many people with flashlights were standing around and his heart thudded hard, fearing the worst. Peeking around the corner as Taylor brought up the rear, he was surprised to find the corridor empty, less so to see the source of light was emanating from Eishka’s room, leaking through the closed door and shining through the window.

“You were right.”

Taylor made a small sound of affirmation and Dun could smell baking cookies, gardenia blossoms blooming heavily in the heat. Looking over his shoulder, it appeared that Taylor was also glowing, though more a subtle sheen than the brilliance coming from Eishka’s room. As he moved forward, Dun puts a hand on Taylor’s chest. His palm began to sweat upon contact.

“Uh, you don’t have to go in there with me.”

“Naw man, I do.”

“But I’m going to die.”

“Well hell, maybe it’s my time to die too, didya ever think o’that? Why doncha ask that voice in your head?”

”Will he? Will Taylor die too?”

No, but he’ll wish he had. He’ll never stop wishing for oblivion.

Dun looked at Taylor then, wide-eyed.

“What did it say?”

But the truth could not be completely articulated.

“No, you’re not going to die.”

Taylor sighed. “Figures.”

They entered the room. They walked into the light and when the door shut behind them it was as if they had never been there at all.


Each of them, their mouths open wide enough to swallow the world, they faced one another and the sound they made was a riotous howling. It felt as though the noise would have deafened anyone within earshot. But only in that room. Voices could be discerned, not only their voices, but the hissing sibilance of numerous voices, adding another layer of cacophony to the din.

They faced each other, Dog’s creations, their respective radiations merging as they clashed upon the air. Dun could see shapes in the light – faces and objects – but none of these things had any sense of familiarity and he was still uncertain of what action to take, how to affect the situation in any meaningful way.

Their presence was not noted by the other occupants, however many of them were actually present. Dun felt as though he were standing in a crowded room. Taylor, by contrast, suddenly felt expansive, as if his own solidity were not so tangible. Dun looked over at him and watched, mouth agape, to see him begin to glow as brightly as Malik. His scars were gone, not just dissolved by the radiance into the wavelength that absorbed all objects, but vanished. The perfection which was his by birthright asserted itself. But his voice was still the same molasses applied to speech as he spoke and was heard within the cloud of clamor.

“This won’t make nothin’ better, Malik.”

The deep eternal echoing of Malik’s true utterance answered, prefaced by a malevolent chuckle.

“Nothing could be worse for me. But if you interfere things could be much worse for you and the puppet.”

Dun was all hackles at the affront. He took a step forward but then the Angel turned his gaze upon him and he was stunned, blinded by the true measure of his brilliance. Without thinking, he ran from the doorway straight at the mass of light which Malik had become. He expected to collide with a form, be burned or truly blinded, but he flung himself through the air and hit the opposite wall.

There was darkness. . .and then there was light.


He was standing in an open space somewhere – it could have been a field, or a mesa, or a desolate stretch of beach – but it was somewhere without boundaries. The horizon was so far off as to be barely visible, an arbitrary line between earth and sky. But in the near distance he could see a dark figure whose progress towards him was measured by an equally infinite sense of grace. And when it reached him, he saw it was Eishka, restored to her ruinous glory. Her expression was one of patient indulgence.
“Is he going to hurt you?”
“We never truly harm one another, the beings of light. And it is the Great Design that we never will. But I was afraid of the Angel, caught up in human fears, which only served to help him realize his own desire to be subsumed. If it is the way of things that I must also descend to oblivion, then that is the Way. You must not trouble yourself too much over this; but remember that you were loved.”
She touched his face and her fingertips were warm like sunlight. His eyes were suddenly tearing as though he had been looking into the sun, and realized they were lying on their backs looking at the sky, the light seemingly filling a greater space than simply the apex of what he could see above him.
“Does anybody really learn what it means?”
Her voice grew hushed against a breeze which seemed to sigh as it stirred the grass.
“You did. And that is victory.”
He was standing again and the sun had become a hole in the sky, as if it were a tunnel rather than a ball of burning gas, a star collapsing upon itself, fueling a hothouse of existence and doubt.
“What is that?” he asked, pointing towards it.
“It is the way up the tree. Try to climb it, always.”
The breeze became the same roaring as before, and Dun felt himself strain as the light drained out of his surroundings straight into the tunnel.
“Swallow me as well. Swallow me now and let me go.”
He heard screaming, screaming like the sound of missiles falling, shattering everything in their trajectory.


He opened his mouth as wide as he could, and it was wider than he ever imagined it would be.


Back in the world, on the cold floor, Dun’s eyes fluttered and his brain could not decide if what he was seeing was merely a continuance of his unconscious state, or truly Taylor also unhinging his jaw, mouth wide enough to swallow the world. All of the din and the light was absorbed into that abyss and left only two; and those two would never relate what they had seen, because they knew that some things could not bear the weight of belief.