The Return of the Son of Satan (years ago)
There had been no indication that the exorcism would be anything but ordinary, if there exorcisms could be considered ordinary. The notes he had taken from the phone call suggested it was a low powered demon, a nuisance to him but a nightmare for the family.
So it was that Daimon Hellstrom arrived at 202 Elms Street completely unprepared for what awaited, the first major mistake in demonology.
The mother of the possessed girl tearfully recounted the events surrounding her daughter’s possession and Patsy comforted her. Patsy dealt with the social side of the job, Daimon was more interested in the exorcism itself.
He paced across the room, frowning slightly. There was something very wrong, a nagging feeling in his head warning him to leave and yet pulling him closer at once.
Daimon turned to Patsy and the family. “I shall begin the exorcism.” He turned and opened the door to the hall, not listening to the mother giving directions to the girl’s room for he didn’t need them.
He should have turned back then, if he could have, but he didn’t. And when he reached the room he found the girl clutching herself on the floor of the room, head pressed against her knees.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Daimon.” The voice was not the girl’s but the demon’s.
Daimon reached into his breast pocket and removed his Bible. “You could have saved me the trouble and gone back to Hell yourself.”
“I did not come from Hell,” The demon looked up, revealing the young girl’s twisted face. “I came from YOU.”
For a moment, Daimon stood frozen, unable to whisper a plea to God. “It can’t-”
The possessed child stood. “For years I was trapped as that snake, forsaken and forgotten, until chance severed the life from that body and I was freed. And then I hunted you, waiting, and now you are mine, Daimon. We will be one again.”
Daimon held forth the Bible. “Our Father-”
“Too laaaate!” The demon-spirit sprang out of the girl, screaming in triumph as it pierced Daimon’s soul.
The Bible dropped as Daimon transformed into Son of Satan just as the girl changed back into her innocent state, collapsing back onto the floor. But Daimon remained standing, screaming. The birthmark on his chest blazed with fire.
Still screaming, he ran from the room and through the hall, out of the house and leaving the confused family and his horrified wife. He couldn’t go back, not until he won the struggle. He had forgotten how it had been, the constant struggle between his two selves. He had foolishly hoped it was safe to forget. But no more.
The Son of Satan’s Darksoul had returned to its proper owner.
So it was that Daimon Hellstrom arrived at 202 Elms Street completely unprepared for what awaited, the first major mistake in demonology.
The mother of the possessed girl tearfully recounted the events surrounding her daughter’s possession and Patsy comforted her. Patsy dealt with the social side of the job, Daimon was more interested in the exorcism itself.
He paced across the room, frowning slightly. There was something very wrong, a nagging feeling in his head warning him to leave and yet pulling him closer at once.
Daimon turned to Patsy and the family. “I shall begin the exorcism.” He turned and opened the door to the hall, not listening to the mother giving directions to the girl’s room for he didn’t need them.
He should have turned back then, if he could have, but he didn’t. And when he reached the room he found the girl clutching herself on the floor of the room, head pressed against her knees.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Daimon.” The voice was not the girl’s but the demon’s.
Daimon reached into his breast pocket and removed his Bible. “You could have saved me the trouble and gone back to Hell yourself.”
“I did not come from Hell,” The demon looked up, revealing the young girl’s twisted face. “I came from YOU.”
For a moment, Daimon stood frozen, unable to whisper a plea to God. “It can’t-”
The possessed child stood. “For years I was trapped as that snake, forsaken and forgotten, until chance severed the life from that body and I was freed. And then I hunted you, waiting, and now you are mine, Daimon. We will be one again.”
Daimon held forth the Bible. “Our Father-”
“Too laaaate!” The demon-spirit sprang out of the girl, screaming in triumph as it pierced Daimon’s soul.
The Bible dropped as Daimon transformed into Son of Satan just as the girl changed back into her innocent state, collapsing back onto the floor. But Daimon remained standing, screaming. The birthmark on his chest blazed with fire.
Still screaming, he ran from the room and through the hall, out of the house and leaving the confused family and his horrified wife. He couldn’t go back, not until he won the struggle. He had forgotten how it had been, the constant struggle between his two selves. He had foolishly hoped it was safe to forget. But no more.
The Son of Satan’s Darksoul had returned to its proper owner.