The Demon Visitor

The memories still haunt me to this day, it happened twenty years ago. I was forty years old, a happy, carefree bachelor. I have lived in fear ever since..

I lived alone. That's how I wanted it to be. My tolerance of humans was low, so low that I avoided them as much as possible. My home was deep in the English countryside. My nearest neighbour was three miles away. That suited me perfectly. I had lived there for five years, I had inherited a lot of money from my Great Aunt, so I didn't have to work. I spent my days painting and gardening. When I moved in I had heard rumours that the house was haunted, though I never believed the rumours, until one terrifying night.

I got home late. I had spent the day in London, due to visiting an ill old friend. I had spent the day around humans so by the time I got home I was stressed and I just wanted to feel the relief of being back on my own again, back in my own space. I opened the front door and stepped inside my home. It was Summer, but the house felt so cold. I noticed that the kitchen light was on, which was strange, as I knew that I had turned it off as I left that morning. As I entered the kitchen, a knife flew across the room and stuck in the wall, I panicked and ran to the door, which slammed shut in front of me. I felt a presence behind me. Too terrified to turn around, my body froze in fear.

“Who is there? What do you want?” I said, petrified.

A force lifted up my body, I could barely breathe and slammed me down on a chair. Stood there before me was a man, I knew he wasn't a living human. His skin was pale, his clothes were torn. He had a scar across his face. He was a demon.

“What do you want from me?” I shouted.

The demon stared at me, looking me up and down. I kept hoping that he would just disappear.

“I need something from you,” the demon said, in the creepiest voice I'd ever heard.

“What? Take anything you want. Then just go,” I said, my heart was beating so fast I thought I was going to have a panic attack.

“Are you a healthy man?”

“Excuse me?” I said, confused.

“Answer my question,” he shouted.

“Yes. Yes, I am healthy.”

“Do you smoke?”

“No.”

“Do you have any breathing problems?”

“No.”

The demon walked towards the wall, he pulled out the knife. I was in a state of shock, confusion and frightened. I didn't understand what was happening.

“So your lungs are healthy?”

“Please, just take what you want and go,” I pleaded.

“Answer me,” he shouted.

“Yes, my lungs are healthy.”

The demon began sharpening the knife. Then it became clear to me what he wanted. He wanted my lungs.

“No,” I screamed.

I tried to stand up, but I couldn't move. A force lifted me up again and slapped me down hard on the kitchen table. My body was stiff, I had completely lost the ability to move.

“I need a lung. One of your lungs. I have to take it to my leader. Then I can escape this parallel universe. My leader needs a lung, he needs one final breath. I will take it back in time, then he will survive.” the demon said, calmly.

I tried to scream, but nothing came out. The demon stabbed the knife into my body, he started digging inside of me and he cut out my lung. I was conscious, I felt the pain, blood poured out of me. After what felt like an eternity, I passed out.

I woke up in a hospital bed. I thought that I must have dreamt the whole thing. Maybe I'd been in a car crash on my way home from London. I looked under the sheets, my chest was bandaged up. It wasn't a dream.

“Nurse, nurse,” I called out.

“Calm down, you're very ill,” said the nurse.

“How did I get here?”

“Your Grandfather phoned for an ambulance when he found you.”

But my Grandfather had been dead for thirty-eight years. I went in to shock. The nurse injected me with something, I fell back to sleep.

I don't remember how long I remained in the hospital. But I do remember the relief when the doctor told me that I would recover and be able to live healthily with just one lung.

I returned home. I lost my dislike of being around people, I wanted to be around as many as possible. I put the house up for sale. In the meantime I had no place to go. I knew that I would have to stay there until the house was sold. Which luckily turned out to be just a few weeks.

On my last afternoon there I found my Mother's old diary. She had written about my Grandfather. He was a member of a cult, which scared my Mother, as she had witnessed the cult doing spells and black magic. My Grandfather had died from a gunshot wound. He was shot in the lung, but by the time the ambulance arrived, it was too late.