Demons and Angels

As demons go, Shayala was a ravishing beauty, black as ebony, skin like perfect alabaster and marble, and as evil as her dark beating heart.

Sister Gwendolyn had just finished her shift in the small hospital ward. She worked alone these days, the other nurses had been sent out to work the various makeshift hospitals in the other towns. Tonight, a patient had died, he had not been a particularly nice man. She crossed herself as the unholy though that she was relieved at his passing sped fleetingly in and out of her thought processes. Thankfully, his body had been removed to the morgue next door.

Sister Gwen was exhausted, she saw to her other patients, tucked them in, wished them a good night, and laid herself down on the small bed in the living room of the small house, turned hospital. There were no extra rooms to house her. Sleep came quickly, and she breathed evenly, in and out.

Somewhere between sleep and wake, Gwen knew that she was not alone. Within her third eye she saw the dark shape hovering above her, just staring malevolently, still as death the thing stood. Gwen tried to move, to scream, to do anything. But she was completely paralyzed from terror and fear. Then she remembered, she needed to pray.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me".

But her words were in her head, only she and God could actually hear them.

Suddenly, she felt herself being dragged from the bed, she felt hands clawing at her clothes, her eyes flew open. Oh my God, she said in her head. It's Frank, Frank who had just died, he was so angry, dragging at her in his rage.

"Why did you let me die. Why didn't you save me. I didn't want to die, I was not ready to die". He was screeching at her very loudly.

Gwen opened her mouth to scream, no sound came out.

Suddenly, a completely black shape could be seen slowly starting to emerge from the floor. Shayala, the demon, had been sent to drag frank down to Hell. Poor Frank tried to run, the demon opened her mouth and screamed so loudly, the entire surrounding areas must have heard. A large black hole opened in the floor and Frank spun as if a tornado had engulfed his entire body. Both he and the demon disappeared into the black pit.

Sister Gwendolyn clasped her hands, her voice had returned. She whispered the rest of the Psalm in fervent relief and thankfulness.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

Amen"!

Now completely exhausted, she reached for her Bible on the small table next to the bed, opened it to the 23rd Psalm. Gwen placed it near her pillow, and fell back into a well earned comatose sleep.

Down in Hell, Frank sat in a pit of giant black stinging ants, they bit him mercilessly, clinging to his naked body, his screams could be heard echoing throughout the bottomless pit. The demon Shayala sat on a burning throne, her skin glowed black and dazzlingly beautiful. Where pain was a punishment for Frank, fire was a balm for the demon, she reveled in its heat.

Shayala knew Gwendolyn well. They had met eighteen years ago, before she entered the convent. Before she surrendered her life to her so called God. Where was he when his disciple was on the wrong side of the tracks, when her heart was as black as soot, even blacker than the burning pits of hell. Shayala smiled, remembering the great pleasure she had derived from watching the house burn.

During her teenage years Gwendolyn had been a handful. She never listened to her parents, she hated their strictness and she hated them for favoring her younger sister who was a model of the perfect child. When she refused to apply to college and they threatened to disown her and turn her out onto the streets, she knew that she had to act. Her parents were well off and they owed her a share of their inheritance, or so Gwen believed. That particular night, she overheard her parents planning to change their Will the next day. Gwen would have nothing to look forward to.

The headstrong young woman waited until after midnight, went into the garage, lifted the large container of gasoline, sprinkled it all over the house and lit the house on fire while the family slept. She wiped gasoline all over her clothes, ran out into the street and watched the house burn. When she was satisfied that the family was dead, she began running and screaming maniacally.

"Help, fire, help, someone call 911, call the fire company. Help me. Help"! Gwen ran up and down the street frantically, yelling that she thought that someone had been in the house and had lit it on fire and then ran away.

By now the neighbors were aware of the fire and had called the police, the fire brigade and everyone else. Poor Gwendolyn, how lucky she was to have escaped by jumping from her window. It is a wonder that she had not hurt her feet or ankles, the windows were so high. She stayed at the neighbors that night, her aunt would get her in the morning.

The police never caught the so-called arsonist, the insurance company paid handsomely for the damage, there was no proof that it was not an accident.

Gwendolyn was a rich woman at age nineteen. The house was rebuilt and she decided to sell it. It was too painful for her to live there considering that her family had died there. The last night before she moved out for good, she came face to face with her demon.

It was midnight and Gwen knew without a doubt that someone was sitting at the foot of her bed. She tried to sit up but could not move. Sleep paralysis was new to her.

"I know what you did". A voice said to her.

Try as she could, movement and speech were impossible.

"I will be back for your soul when the time is right". The voice said, then completely disappeared.

From time to time, no matter where Gwendolyn went, Shayala would turn up unexpectedly, sitting in her chair reading her book or standing behind her in the bathroom while she brushed her teeth.

After five years of demon torment, Gwen could take it no more. She joined a convent, learned nursing and donated all of her money to the 'Sisters of Mercy Nursing homes'. That was many years ago. The great thing was that the demon haunting had stopped after that. Gwen was confident that she had atoned for her sins and was now free. That was before that fateful night, when Frank died.

Shayala had returned. But why?

She had been having headaches lately. A visit to the doctor confirmed a brain tumor. The demon had finally come back for her.

Two years later, Gwendolyn lay dying. On the left side of her bed was Shayala. On the right side was the angel Ithar, both were there to collect her soul. One bound for Heaven, the other for Hell.

Gwendolyn closed her eyes and waited.

She had no idea who would be the victor tonight. Whomever won, she knew in her heart that she would deserve her judgement.

Good and evil now prepared for battle.

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All images created by NightCafe studios.

Chapter 2 of the story can be found on Vocal's Chapter Community.

Thank you for reading.