Chapter 2: I Write Incidents Not Tragedies (pt. 2)
"I am a demon by the name of Gaap, tell me, are you my next host?" The container emitted a voice, speaking in heavy, scratchy, male voice.
Dewey sat speechless by the corner, he could not believe what he just saw and heard. Moreover, demon? Such thing did not exist in his vocabulary. Demon was nothing but a myth to scare people from doing bad deeds, he believed. However, a supposedly actual encounter with a legitimate demon scared the colors out of him, he turned pale and wet by sweat. He was smiling, assuming he was going nuts, that he was under some kind of drugs, or hypnosis, an illusion caused by a person or a substance, a state of reality detachment.
"This isn't real," He took the container with his hand. "This isn't…" He clenched it tightly in his palm. "real!" And then the container was thrown against the wall, hit it with an explosive sound as the container broke, letting the glass flask out. Fortunately the flask did not shatter.
"Calm down… calm down. Right, right, a doctor, that mental doctor thingy. I must be out of my mind right now." He walked to the desk, his wobbly body was trembling with fear, such surreal experience could not be real. He took a phone book, flipped every pages, one by one. "This can't…" However, his knees gave up, so was his consciousness. He passed out, slumping on the floor.
Dewey entered the dream world, his mind was in shambles, he could not believe what he just sensed. "Am I really going insane? For 32 years I've been alive, I've never been feeling this mad. This can't be real, right?"
A figure of a man with forked horns on top of his head showed up. Dewey nervously looked at the figure, then to the ground which turned out was covered in murky water. "Are you my next host? If so then grab my hand."
Strangely, Dewey felt calmer, was he charmed by the figure before his eyes, nobody knew. He felt that everything became clear. It felt calming, yet at the same time, fake. The comfort he felt around the figure was nothing but superficial. He wanted to believe that, yet he could not resist the urge to be relaxed around the man. "What will happen if I take your hand?" Dewey asked.
The man nodded. "I will grant you a part of my power in return of a host to stay. We, fragments of demon could not stay in the mortal world for too long, we need a body we can reside in." He explained.
"Power? What for? I need no power, my life is fine as it is." Dewey argued.
The figure smiled, two pairs of fangs clearly protruded out of the figure's mouth. "Are you not feeling unsatisfied with your life? If you were to be the host of the true king, you would be able to win everything in life." Demon, that was the identity of the figure in front of him.
"True king? What does that even mean?" Dewey asked.
"Surely you have heard something about King Solomon?" The demon asked.
"The myth? I sure have."
"He was the host of the true king of us, demons. He was the most powerful man of his era, being the host of the true king allowed him to command all 72 demons along with their subordinates, the legions, even nations of demons." He explained. "However, we were our complete selves back then, today we are nothing but fragments of our power."
"To put it simply, you aren't as strong as you were." Dewey concluded.
"Even in our weakened state, we still are multiple times stronger than you mortals." The demon chuckled.
"Then, how do you become this true king guy?" Again, Dewey asked, seemingly intrigued.
The demon smiled. "By defeating other demons to submission. In demon society, our position is determined by our power. This time is a good opportunity for demons who were under the others."
"Why so?" He asked for an elaboration.
"Years ago, a man by the name of Aleister Crowley invoked us, the demons and set us free. That horrible man won and became the host of the true king." The demon explained.
"Crowley, Crowley... That hedonist guy who practiced in occult or something? I thought it was just a rumor flying around." Dewey recognized the name right away.
"Correct, fearing that he would be betrayed by his demon subordinates, he commanded us to give most of our powers to him. He then sealed the powers away in a book." The demon said.
"So that's why you're in weakened state. Then, where's the book at?" Dewey walked towards the demon.
"Oh, the book?" The demon swiftly pushed Dewey off his balance.
"Oh crap-" He was about to fall when the demon caught his palm.
"Well then, starting today, you are my host." The demon smiled. The water level rose, drowning the two in muddy water. Dewey only noticed that it was an elaborate plan of the demon to caught him off-guard so that he'd be forced to take his hand when it was too late.
Morning arrived, alone in his apartment was Dewey, still shirtless, still lying downwards against the floor. He groaned, finally awake. That was a crazy dream he had last night, he tried to stand up but he failed, so he stood with his back sticking to the wall.
After spending a couple of minutes, he walked towards the sink. He was about to wash his face when he realized that the water was not running. The blurry refraction of his own physique he saw on the mirror reminded him to the whole experience he had yesterday, from the incident scene to the crazy talk about demon. He was relieved that he was still the same old Dewey he himself could recognize.
He closed the sink, and sighed. He was about to walk to the bathroom when the water suddenly ran. "No… I closed it right?" Dewey took a glance at the mirror, now with clear image displayed, it was him, albeit slightly differed from his usual self. He took two steps back, he thought he might be drunk.
"Horns? The same as-" The water running suddenly froze in mere seconds when he touched the forked horns on his head. "Ha… haha." He fell on his knees, trying to accept that he was indeed, insane. "God, have you come to punish me?" He laughed, while crying.
"God does not have the time to spare on a mere mortal like you." A voice was ringing in his head, the very same voice he heard last night.
Dewey gritted his teeth. "You're the demon?" He asked in a low voice.
"Correct, I am indeed a demon, albeit merely a fragment of my former self." The voice explained.
"The whole host and true king story... these horns, so, am I really possessed?" He stood up, the frozen water melted, the sink closed.
"I do believe that is the correct word." The voice replied.
Dewey gave up as reality crumbled upon him. All the telltales of demons he had heard for years filled his mind, he lost the grip to the truth. "Fine then." Dewey looked at his reflection in the mirror. "Say, demon," He punched the mirror, shattering it to pieces. He took a large piece, pointed it towards himself. "would you die if I do it?" Dewey asked, the voice however, remained silent. A tense atmosphere formed up between the two, Dewey threatened the demon, the demon could not say anything.
"You would? Then so be it." The blood coming out from the wound on his knuckle solidified, locking his hand in position, preventing him from stabbing himself.
"You damn demon," Similar to what happened to the water, the blood melted. The mirror piece fell to the floor as the pain began to crawl up his hand to his shoulder. "Go burn in hell."
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Ari_Gilang_N
Ari_Gilang_N A bit slow-paced, I know.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone