Devils on State Street
There’s something going on down on State Street. The devils are out.
![](https://res.cloudinary.com/jerrick/image/upload/d_642250b563292b35f27461a7.png,f_jpg,fl_progressive,q_auto,w_1024/6446f5c382cfd4001ddedc21.png)
There’s something going on down on State Street. The devils are out.
**************
This story was originally published on Medium.
**************
Jillian
The movie is getting so good, Jillian realizes she’s leaning all the way forward on her couch cushion, about to topple off. She readjusts herself, grabs her lemonade, and takes a sip.
A sex scene comes on and the moans and groans are loud. Self-conscious of the thin walls in her apartment, Jillian grabs the remote and then lowers the volume considerably. And right at that moment, she hears the thump of something heavy against her front door.
Jillian pauses the movie and promptly makes her way to her door. She flings it open to see Paul, standing out there, crouched, hand on a package of hers.
This pervert!
“What the hell are you doing?” Jillian screams.
“I… no, I thought this package might’ve been mine…” Paul is stumbling over his words and sweating.
He slowly stands up but stays hunched.
“That package has been there all day, I just haven’t grabbed it yet.” Jillian’s eyes narrow.
“I know, and sometimes they deliver packages to you when they’re mine, so I was checking the label, I slipped…” Paul is talking a mile a minute.
“You were listening, you pervert!”
“No! No, I wasn’t listening! I mean, I heard, but I wasn’t trying to listen…”
“It wasn’t me having sex! It was a movie!”
“I know! I could tell…” Paul’s eyes bug out with guilt. “I mean, not that I could tell… I didn’t think… I wasn’t trying to…”
“Do not come back near my apartment or my door or my packages or even this end of the hall or else I’m calling the landlord and telling him what you’re doing!” Jillian erupts.
“No, don’t tell him. I wasn’t…” Paul stops for a minute. “Okay, I’m leaving. Just please don’t say anything to him.”
“Get out of here!”
With that, Paul retreats to the staircase, scurries up the stairs and disappears from Jillian’s view. Jillian grabs her package, tosses it inside her place, and throws the door shut.
Pervert!
Paul
Paul clutches the garbage bag in his hand, positioned in front of his door. He breathes slowly as he thinks.
He wants to head down the stairs and go out the back way to the trash cans like he normally would… it is the quickest route to the trash cans, after all… but he would have to pass by Jillian’s. After yesterday, he is truly afraid to even pass by her door. She didn’t believe him, but he really was just checking the package to make sure it wasn’t his.
So, Paul’s other option is to go out the front door, wrap around the building, and walk down the sidewalk until he reaches the back entrance of the building to toss his trash out. The longer route… but not by much. The scarier route… and by a whole lot.
Paul is not sure what happened, but over the past month or so, something has changed on this portion of the sidewalk. He has stopped walking down this sidewalk altogether. If he needs to walk down the street, he crosses to the other side, even if it is out of the way. This side of the street, the sidewalk bordering his apartment building… and its surrounding area… it’s just too scary. It’s too unpredictable. There is an evil lurking.
But Paul has no choice. He has to use this portion of the sidewalk if he wants to get to his trash cans. It’s the only way, other than passing Jillian’s place. And that could get him kicked out of his apartment.
Paul figures he will just be quick, he will be brave, and he will just tough through this experience. Toss his trash out and head back to his place as fast as he possibly can.
Paul musters up the courage and leaves his apartment, heads down the stairs, out the front door, and quickly wraps around the building to the fearful sidewalk.
Right away, there is one of the usual scaries he used to see. One he hasn’t seen in a long time. The little yellow man with the claws for fingers. He is maybe two and a half feet tall, drooping ears, and fangs that don’t fit in his wide mouth. He leers at Paul, arms dangling at his sides, swaying back and forth.
Paul presses on, keeping his distance. He tries not to make eye contact with the scary little yellow man, but there aren’t many other good options. He clutches the trash bag tighter. Mounds of dirt are pushed up from the ground, creating holes. A detached hand, a sickly, olive green, crawls out of one hole. Two little human-esque creatures with wings fly out of another hole. They are about five inches in height. They zip around, circling Paul’s head, a frightening buzzing emanating from their wings. Paul hears snarls circling his head. The hot breath of these miniature things puff against his skin. He pushes forward and squints his eyes, hoping that he doesn’t have to see these things… and hoping they don’t touch him.
A tree barren of leaves extends a branch down towards Paul as if it is trying to scoop him up. The bark of the tree begins to move, it melts, shards of broken wood are falling off the tree branch and landing on the pavement, shattering. The shattered pieces of bark turn into thousands of insects that scurry towards Paul. Paul tries to jump over them. He stumbles and loses his footing. He tips over to his left and sticks his free hand out to brace himself. His hand smashes into something hot. It feels wet but also a dry sharpness exists within the wetness.
Paul turns to see his hand is in a mouth. A mouth the size of the entire upper half of his body… razor sharp teeth are clenched around his hand, not yet pressing down. A pungent stench exits the mouth, almost sweet for a moment, but so sweet, so sickly sweet, it smells of rot. The mouth is tiny compared to the head it lives on. The head, fifteen feet high. A gray beast with scaly skin, its body stretches on behind it for what seems like a mile. The beast looks at Paul with its dead eyes.
Paul screams and smashes his hand repeatedly into the teeth of the beast, hoping to free his hand from the mouth. He cracks a tooth, breaks another tooth clean off.
“Let go! Let go!” Paul shouts.
Paul yanks his arm free and falls down. This is worse than usual. He tries to get up and realizes a sticky sap covered on the ground has coated his legs and arms. He is stuck to the ground. He is trying to pull himself free, but he is having issues. Something is holding one of his ankles down. A hand. He cannot see it, but he can feel it.
A dark sheet of wind approaches him from afar. A wind he can see. It is ominous. It slowly rolls across the road and the sidewalk towards him. It takes its time. Minutes of this. Paul cannot free himself. He is terrified. He is sweating profusely. Within the darkness of the wind, something emerges. Something mammalian, yet birdlike. It is as big as Paul, and it narrows its eyes at him. It stomps across the road, wings outstretched, arms bent at the elbows, ready to reach out and grasp something.
Paul rips himself from the grasp of the earth and pulls himself to his feet. He cocks his arm back and throws the trash bag at the beast. He attempts to run but then the ground grabs at him again, it grabs him from the ankles, the knees, the midsection, and it pulls him back down. Paul lays there on his back. Shallow breaths escaping his lips. The beast closes in on him. The darkness surrounds him.
Now what?
![](https://res.cloudinary.com/jerrick/image/upload/d_642250b563292b35f27461a7.png,f_jpg,q_auto,w_720/6446f5c282cfd4001ddedc20.png)
Andrew
Andrew fixes his shirt, smooths out the wrinkles, and checks himself out in the mirror.
“Looks alright.” He smiles at himself.
He is really excited for this date. Too excited. His nerves are all over the place. He takes a sip of water to calm himself down. He grabs his cologne. Stops for a minute. He needs to remember to not go overboard. He holds the cologne out about an arm’s length away, and sprays. He lets the cologne wash over him. A pleasant smell. Is just one spray enough? Maybe one more won’t hurt. Another spray washes over him. Andrew can smell the cologne. It is strong. He hopes he didn’t put too much on.
He takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself. Suddenly, Andrew’s window shatters just feet away from him. Andrew jumps back in fear. Someone’s arm just smashed right through his bedroom window. Is it someone breaking in?
Andrew takes a step back and watches the arm flail around in a confused manner. Then, the arm stops.
What the hell is going on?
Andrew takes a step forward. Another. He sees more of the arm as it dangles in his window motionless. Another step forward… and he can see out his window and into the street. There stands Paul, his weird upstairs neighbor. His pupils are dilated, and he has a vacant stare. Paul is looking right at Andrew but appears to be looking straight through him.
“Let go! Let go!” Paul begins to shout, seemingly at Andrew’s window.
Paul erratically starts swinging his arm around. Andrew thinks he knows what is happening. He saw kids take LSD in college. This dude must be tripping balls.
Andrew quickly calls 911 and explains the situation. They inform him a squad car will be sent over immediately. There is one just around the corner. The beauty of living close to the police department. Andrew can hear the sirens coming as Paul has fallen onto his back on the sidewalk. He is rolling around and writhing. Andrew hopes the police come to get him soon.
And then an unsettling feeling comes over Andrew. A sick feeling. It clouds his head; it infiltrates his gut. He feels like he ate too much but he is also lightheaded. And then… he sees a darkness creeping towards him from outside. He sees it through the window… like a thick, dark fog. And it is rolling right towards him.
Officer Gack
Officer Gack whips the car onto the street and guns it.
“Jeez, slow down, it’s just a tweaker, or something.” Officer Murtagh says, gripping onto the dashboard.
“These people can cause a lot of damage and not even realize it.” Gack says. “Even damage to others… or themselves.”
The address is just up ahead. Gack pulls the car over to the side and slams on the breaks. He gets tunnel vision. He sees the man, young, 20’s, rolling around on the ground. Gack jumps out of the car, Murtagh does the same. He rushes over towards the man. He has his hand on his gun, just in case.
He closes in and then sees the man is trying to get up… but cannot. Then, it becomes clear why he cannot. A thousand centipedes are coming up from the ground and gripping onto him, pinning him down. Gack is shocked at the sight. He looks to Murtagh and Murtagh’s jaw is on the ground.
A great winged creature swoops down from the sky and lands between Gack and the man on the ground. It has a snout, like a horse, but a face of a human. It is all white, yellowy-white hair, it wears no clothes, its muscle definition is impressive. It has four arms, two of them are shorter than the others and with hooves at the end of them. It snarls at Gack.
To Gack’s left, ten feet away, a pool of blood. It is the size of a small pond. It is growing and growing, blood dripping into it from above. Gack’s eyes extend up, following the dripping blood in order to find the source. A low hanging cloud, only 20 feet above Gack’s head, is dripping the blood. It is a yellowy-brown color and it omits a sulfuric smell. Pieces of things fall from it. They land on the edge of the blood pond. Gack examines them. They are fingers. Hundreds of fingers.
The man on the ground screams and tries to get back up. Gack’s head spins back towards him and he sees the giant winged creature has turned towards the man, looking like it is ready to attack.
Gack doesn’t hesitate a second longer. He whips out his gun and begins firing at the creature. The creature gets hit a few times and then leaps into the air and flies away.
The man lays back onto the ground, still. A coolness hits Gack’s back… chills run up and down his spine. A soft humidity encases his whole body. Darkness creeps into his peripheral vision, slowly encasing him, eating away the light, making all… dark.
Templeton
Templeton sips his coffee and watches the monitors. The view from the drone is crystal clear. Mayhem is ensuing on this typical street in this typical city. A man writhes around on the sidewalk as two cops fire their guns at him.
The cops begin to swat at their own arms… at their backs. They drop their guns and frantically flail their arms around, fighting a demon that doesn’t exist. They scream and fall backwards, fighting for their lives, fighting nothing.
Templeton sips more coffee. He looks to Collins.
“What did you up the dosage to?” Templeton asks.
“Well, 64 days ago when we initially dropped the hallucinogen onto the streets, we did 60 milliliters for that 100-foot stretch.” Collins reviews the notes in his own head. “46 days ago, we changed the dosage to 80 milliliters.”
“Is that what we’re at now?” Templeton asks.
“Yes, but 11 days ago, we didn’t tamper with the dosage, however, we adjusted the temperature at which the formula was kept at.”
“Aha, what was the adjustment?” Templeton slowly sips more coffee.
“From 50 degrees to 35 degrees.” Collins responds. “It seems to have far greater impact when stored at a cooler temperature.”
“Fantastic.” Templeton says without much enthusiasm. “I think we can make the call… it’s ready for warfare. Get troops down there to handle the situation. Discard of the officers.”
“And the civilian who called it in?”
“Too much heat to take them all out.” Templeton responds. “Leave him be. No one will believe one person anyway. When has anyone ever believed a lone person?”
**************
If you enjoyed this story and want to read more of my work, then please come check out my website where I post all my latest work, plus you can even subscribe for updates!
About the Creator
Stephen Kramer Avitabile
I'm a creative writer in the way that I write. I hold the pen in this unique and creative way you've never seen. The content which I write... well, it's still to be determined if that's any good.
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Expert insights and opinions
Arguments were carefully researched and presented
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Comments (4)
You don't need hallucinogens to wreak this kind of havoc. Just put this out on the dark web with a Q attached to it & watch the QAnon conspiracy theorists go bonkers over it. Suggest that Hillary Clinton is somehow responsible & it'll be firing on all cylinders! Excellent storytelling, weaving through several different characters.
I always love a story with changes of POV! This was captivating and engaged me from beginning to end, well done!
With every change of POV, my opinions were going back and forth from they're high and those demons are real, lol! And that last line, so true. No one would believe a lone person
My inner conspiracy theorist found this terrifying, and my optimistic side that wants to believe our government has just voluntarily stopped experimenting on us after admitting to certain atrocities of the past still found this a great horror story.