The Heart of the Demon

The Heart of the Demon

by Maranda L. Scott

It was dark and dreary in the city of Payne. Shadows obscured the run-down streets and crows flew in the grey sky, scavenging for scraps of food in the overgrown center park. Sirens, horns, and sounds of city life had quieted, but now and again they could be heard in the far off distance. It was quiet, almost too quiet. Only a rough flapping noise could be heard breaking the silence with the bone-chilling wind. The sound came from the darkest shadows of the city street, where hateful eyes glared out at the world. 

It was Nason. He stood tall, leaning against the door of his own lonely, shabby ‘home’ with his arms crossed, his long black trench coat flapping in the wind. The high collar of coat hid his neck and his studded belt with a silver skull buckle held up his black chained pants.  Spiked cuffs adorned his scarred hands. His pitch black hair concealed his face.

“Hmph.” Nason mumbled and crossed his arms as he watched a cheery family going by, laughing, holding hands, son was riding on his father’s shoulders, mother cradling her infant daughter in her arms. A crucifix hung around the mother’s neck. The sight of it made him sick. He jumped down from the stoop where he had been standing then stopped in the middle of the street and glowered at the family as they hastened their steps down the street and out of sight.

With a deep sigh, he turned in the opposite direction and trudged down the street which had once been so full of life. Everything will be taken away from them before they know it; just as it was taken from me. They think they can trust Him…They think He will give them life, happiness, and love… but they’re wrong. One day they will see…

Nason paid no heed to what was going on around him; he simply stared angrily as his mind traveled elsewhere. He didn’t need to see. Everyone in his path would make way- as if they sensed a dark, forbidding aura around him. People avoided him; no one would even dare approach him. He was an outcast, an urban legend, known as The Demon. His glares were said to have the power to kill and the power to peer into the very depths of your soul. He served the Dark Lord, loved nothing, loved no one, and spoke in the voice of the Devil. Although far fetched, these legends were not entirely untrue. 

The sound of an ambulance siren grew louder, louder, than faded away into the distance.  “Heh.” Nason laughed sourly. “Who has God taken away this time?” He followed the siren a few minutes down a block to an intersection, where a bad car crash had occurred. From afar he leaned against his wall with arms crossed, one foot back against the wall. He watched, emotionless, as the desperate scene unfolded before him.