21 Years, 2 Months, 22 Days, 3 Hours, 45 Minutes, 11 Seconds.
It waited. Deep down in the murky depths of the ocean. Water pressure pressed on its exoskeleton, forcing it onto the ocean floor.
A sliver of light flickered through the organic particles of the deep world. The creature swivelled a collection of gelatinous eyes upwards, towards it. Faint and distorted by the water currents was the refracted image of the moon.
The creature stirred, scuffling its eight, segmented legs over the ocean bed, scattering clouds of wet sand in its wake. The nearby ocean dwelling critters scattered as it passed, darting their skeletal bodies behind rocks and sunken debris.
It travelled for a long time, following the pull of the tide, climbing up the gentle slope of the bed. Eventually, it arrived at a beach and slipped out of the water, creating a gentle lump in the surface of the liquid, which collapsed around it as it broke shore.
There were three organisms on the beach, two of them playing in the moonlight, dancing to some distant music. The third watched nearby, huddled over some rocks unnoticed. The creature approached, making a clicking noise with its mandibles as it closed the distance.
The watcher was a male human and his thoughts reverberated in the air, louder than the music, but heard only by the creature. They drew it in, as they dwelled upon themselves. Desire and anger intermingling, tangling themselves until the separate emotions became one. A sense of betrayal and of righteousness flowed over the core emotions and all were rooted together by one overpowering feeling; love.
The watcher became aware of the quiet click, click, click of the approaching creature. The clicks rumbled together as it drew back its tail and struck violently with its stinger. A venom was injected into the leg of the watcher as he recoiled from the attack. He struck back, kicking and flailing at the creature, forcing it away. The creature retreated, the physical attack being merely a distraction as it began to work on the mind of the human.
The watcher’s thoughts rolled in on themselves. His desire to confront the other man, the one who danced with his love before his own eyes, was growing. The thought repeated, faster and faster, accelerating in his head. He shouldn’t let this moment pass. He would regret doing nothing. He was in the right. He loved her.
Compelled by his own thoughts the watcher swung himself over the rocks and onto the sandy beach. He advanced to the pair, dancing in the moonlight. He bit his lip, causing it to bleed, in an attempt to distract himself from the pain of his stung leg.
The two dancers noticed him and stopped. The male called out a warning but the watcher ignored it. He swung with a fist, knocking the unsuspecting male to the ground. The watcher then leapt on him, beating the man about the face, again and again, venting his frustration, appeasing his desire to get physical revenge for his emotional pain.
The man was unconscious, the woman screamed into the night with horror. But the watcher wasn’t done. She was just scared, she needed comfort from someone who loved her. The watcher stood up, wiping his bloody fists on his clothes. He grabbed the woman and pulled her close to his body. He could feel her warmth and the supple, smoothness of her arms and it aroused him.
She kept screaming but he new she would love him when he showed her his affection. He pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her. She tried to beat him of but was too weak. The watcher needed more from her, he needed to feel her, to breathe her, to be one with her. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, some of the blood from his cut lip mingling with his and her saliva.
His hands clasped her sides, he needed to be with her body, to show her how perfect they would be together. His hand found its way under her dress and wriggled into her panties. Yet it still was not enough. There was more to be given. More that could be done to press them together.
He pulled the woman to the floor with him and, pulled her clothes off. Then he unbuttoned himself revealing his unrestrained desire and pressed his body on top of her.
The creature, a demon by desire and by nature, sensed the conception of a new life.
16 Years, 3 Months, 12 Days, 14 hours, 38 minutes, 7 seconds.
The demon had shed its previous form of wild and raw emotion. Instead it had taken on the shape of a mangy, stray dog, giving rise to survival instincts and scavenger morals.
It had taken on the name Lune, after the symbol of its awakening. It didn’t have a need for a name, no conversation was headed its way, however, something about being in the presence of the humans had compelled it to regard a name as important.
Lune, snuffled on the ground, it hunted around a toppled waste bin searching for a scrap of edible food. It did not need food, not of the organic kind anyway, but it kept up appearances before Matthew.
The boy had been raised an orphan, hurled into care he had lived the early life of a pauper. Lune had followed him through his growth, the demon influencing the minds around the boy.
Matthew had been carelessly thrown a name and cared for by an unwilling midwife whilst a council discussed the welfare of the baby. A child born of a rapist and murderer it was feared he would grow up to have the same horrific qualities that had possessed his father. That the mother had taken her own life only furthered the insecurities surrounding the child as a bad omen.
Unwilling to do away with Matthew, human sentimentality suppressing the natural violence in their hearts, especially in regard to towards young ones, they had shipped the child away to another town.
There it had been accepted in an orphanage and raised reasonably well, albeit on a meagre budget. Until rumours of Matthew’s origins had arrived in his wake. The matron of the orphanage had tried her best to suppress the rumours, her mind strong against Lune’s influence. Nonetheless the children had caught on and begun to bully Matthew, making him an outcast and torturing him with solitude. It was uncertain as to whether the children understood what it was they bullied the boy for, only that they echoed the sentiments of the adults they met in believing the boy to be a bad thing, a creature to be shunned.
Matthew had run away after meeting the stray. He had expressed to the creature, to Lune, how he wanted to be free like the homeless mutt, able to run away from the horrible staring eyes of those that hated and feared him. Unaware that the dog itself was always near him, in one guise or another, and contributed significantly to the boy’s dire situation.
Matthew, though struggling to survive, was happier now. The pair travelled far, living off the land and the scraps of the cities. He hungered constantly but was removed from the shadow of his birth, with the dog as his faithful companion.
6 Years, 7Months, 26 Days, 23 hours, 57 Minutes, 34 Seconds.
The demon had taken on the form of the cunning fox, full of knowing intent and deceptive trickery. It still followed Matthew who, whilst not aware of the demon’s heritage, new of its changeling nature and remembered it still as the stray he had found. The fox hid from view most of the time, but always remained near to Matthew, always at hand, always influencing the minds around him.
Matthew himself had found other street urchins like himself. He had begun to unify them, taking up residence in abandoned warehouses of a large city and creating his own pseudo family of outcasts.
They rallied together each with the belief that they had been wronged and were thus justified in the wrongs they committed.
Matthew was beginning his adult life. Lune pushing him onwards, pressuring his thoughts, herding the lonely emotions to the forefront of his mind as a means of getting the boy to pursue his desires.
The demon hid at the end of an alleyway, crouched behind discarded crates. Matthew and a girl, a slight and slender thing nicknamed Pixie, entered the alleyway. They staggered a bit, the alcohol in their hands evidence of the interference to their motor systems.
They had acquired the drink through their own, ‘inexpensive’, means. The raid had been a first for Pixie, her thieving virginity gone Matthew had snatched the opportunity to take her on a midnight stroll as they reaped the rewards.
The pair stopped and stared at each other. Matthew raised a hand and brushed the girl’s cheeks gently as he complimented her beauty. She was younger than Matthew, only just a woman. Lune could sense the rapid flush of emotions as they poured forth, erupting at the touch of another and heightened by her own expectations.
Matthew pushed the girl, pressing his body to hers and her back to the wall. Surprised, she gasped at the impact but did not resist. Matthew watched her face closely, reading her expression, her wants, needs and desires.
He was old enough now to understand the exact circumstances of his own birth and vehemently refused to cause the same distress to a woman. He had spoken with older boys before and gradually through lewd discussion learned of the hows and the whys of what it was he and the girl desired to do. He was careful with her, only wanting to please her to give her an experience to remember.
“Kiss me,” she said as her own anticipation overflowed. Reluctance filled Matthew’s mind, of the danger an emotional attachment could cause. He hesitated but was quickly admonished by the demon’s interference. Lune stirred up Matthew’s own instinctual desires, suppressing his logic, his reason. Forcing him to think only of the here and now.
3 Years, 4 Months, 15 Days, 20 Hours, 35 Minutes, .58 Seconds.
The boy was growing into a man, and as he grew he became closer with the entity known as Lune. The demon had discarded a physical body, embedding its consciousness within Matthew’s mind. It was not a possession as such, the demon had no more control over Matthew than it had before. But it slept in the dark recesses of the man’s mind, heightening desire and suppressing conscience.
It held a mark upon Matthew’s body, a symbol of its presence. A tattoo of a snake, artistically drawn in segments such that the design looked like a pattern or a work of art rather than a brand.
Matthew himself had proved surprisingly resistant to Lune’s darker machinations. The ability to coerce the boy into pursuing lustful or greedy actions was quite easy. But his conscience remained, preventing the man from deliberately harming others, directly at least. The demon had mused that it was a remnant emotion brought about from the circumstances of his conception. The demon’s purpose was, however, unhindered, Matthew’s natural talent for leadership among anarchy sufficed.
Indeed Matthew had risen among the unofficial ranks of his gang to become a leader, a king of thieves. He had strong ties with all of its members and many romantic affiliations among those.
He had met a new girl recently, a possible recruit that had caught his eye. Matthew had found her wandering the streets a few days ago, cold and hungry she had no idea what she had gotten herself into after abandoning her home.
She had taken an immediate liking to Matthew and as he had done many times before he had taken her on a thieves’ adventure. The pair had stolen some sweetbread and, running through the upper class area of the city, soon found a scalable wall which dropped them into the gardens of a private estate.
Gemma, as the girl had introduced herself, was swooning as Matthew talked of his ideals. He worked with his words mostly in order to lure his interests. His mind had fallen into a pattern of instinctual desire and barely needed the guidance of Lune to follow its lustful nature.
The demon was focused on something else however. The girl, Gemma, was accompanied by something else. It had watched her carefully, noteful of how she often, narrowly, avoided danger. It was a trait that had nothing to do with her own skills, whatever they may be, but were caused by a supernatural force similar to itself.
0 Years, 0 Months, 0 Days, 0 Hours, 3 Minutes, 33 Seconds.
It was an angel. A guardian angel to be precise. Lune had concluded after long, thoughtful calculations at the oddity of sense it felt in Gemma’s presence. Matthew had sensed nothing of danger in the girl, indeed he had taken her as his queen, the girl commanding respect within the ranks of the outcast gang.
Normally the demon felt no fear at the presence of these lowborn angels, the term ‘a dime a dozen’ being far too apt for them. There was nothing unusual in a human being with a guardian angel. The creatures were so insignificant as to be barely noticeable the majority of the time.
This one, though, was special. Lune did not like special. The demon was a tactician and strategist, it was not fond of variables and wild cards. The angel would have to go.
Lune had set to work quickly, the angel was unaware of the demon and caused little obstruction to Lune’s influence on the girl’s mind. It had worked to welcome her within the fold quickly. Fastening a sinful hold on her quickly by working with her desire, her love for Matthew. As for Matthew himself, he had been a willing accomplice, wishing to keep the girl close to him. Matthew’s emotions had been warped overtime, his love for the girl was now more like that of an owner and his possession. He demanded of her and she gave as she did not know better.
The angel grew weaker, its ties to the human forged through goodwill. Tonight was Lune’s final action. The demon slipped through the subconscious waves of Matthew’s sleeping mind. Travelling through the man’s nervous system until it reached the snake brand tattooed on his arm.
Matthew curled around Gemma in bed clutching her tightly. He did not stir as the ink on his arm began to shimmer and slide from his skin. The snake passed onto the cloth of the bed sheets and slithered forward, a hiss and darting, black tongue accompanying its movements. The guardian angel, invisible to mortal eyes, sat on a bedpost, its faint light barely holding back the darkness.
Lune approached unseen. The ink moved onto the wood of the bed support and spiralled up to the angel. The head of the snake separated from the wood and rose in the air behind the angel. It’s mouth opened wide revealing two hideously long fangs. Lune bit down in an instant, with a snap of its jaws and the angel was no more.