Part 1
Monday:
Today I saw a demon.
The demon was a shadow at first. It entered the neighbor. She was smiling as she began cutting her rose bushes. Leaving thorns and beheading her flowers. When I asked her, she told me she was tired of them not looking red enough and that she would give them something better. By the time I returned from work, a dull red bathed the stems ― that's when I knew: it was blood.
I didn't sleep that night, I could still hear the dripping ― a constant plip ― how many animals did that monster sacrifice? Could they even be humans? No! It's certain she wouldn't use humans. It would be obvious. I must watch her. No one can get hurt.
Wednesday:
I've been awake since 4 a.m. Yesterday I notified them I wouldn't go to the office. I can't. I'm sure she's planning something. That demon has been muttering since yesterday that death visits her. She doesn't seem very frustrated, it almost feels like she's celebrating it. I must be here to witness her plans. I must do something to stop her. So I put my phone on record mode. I watched her very closely, all through the early morning. When I saw they arrived in a truck, I went cold. Without hiding and with the morning lights, they dug in the garden to plant heads in burlap sacks. I can still see the expression of happiness on that demon. The workers weren't human either ― hunched and deformed, they wore clothes that were too big for them. It was clear they had impersonated the poor humans and perhaps even placed their heads in those holes where a black liquid was poured, sealing their fate to the beast's mood.
Thursday:
Today I had to go to work. I didn't want to, but it would have been my third unexcused absence and I couldn't say my neighbor was planting heads, not yet. Especially since the camera showed nothing ― everything was darkness.
The work was simple. Just had to capture the things that arrived and make sure everything was in the information I sent to my supervisor. That's what I thought. A foul smell disoriented me. There he was, with his rum-soaked clothes and a huge jaw. The smells of vomit, death, and decay wouldn't stop emanating from his entire body. He joked, insisting that Chinese food wasn't the best option. There he was, his hands holding a disposable package. Pulling out something that looked like worms. A piece of finger came out from the edge and tried to escape from such a beast. When it fell to the floor, he picked it up triumphantly, laughing and insisting on the five-second rule. Everyone laughed with him. I saw the finger. I almost heard the crunch of his bones as he chewed it. I held on as long as I could. I at least managed to get to the bathroom to vomit everything.
Sunday:
After a Friday where I played music on my phone to avoid seeing anyone. On Saturday I requested my vacation days. I don't think I can go back. The hells have reached my office! The eternal database update brought new records: things like humans by the pack, if there was any canned dog. How I love that I don't actually see any of this. Only the records of what comes in and goes out!
I didn't hear any screams of horror. I swear I hit pause when I sent the list. The SKUs were correct but when scanning the photos... So brutal and no one said a word. When I looked at them, some of them were still laughing with gusto. As if seeing a bottle of '97 amniotic fluid was something to celebrate. That's when I was sure ― they were possessed ― I saw it clearer at the end of the day. Their skin was paler than normal. The bags under their eyes had maggots. One bit his nail and then chewed the contents thoroughly. After that, they wanted to meet at the apartment. I didn't go. I didn't write anything yesterday either. The neighbor is finally celebrating. In the heads where there are tons of flies buzzing, fat and iridescent, now a small strip of nerves began to climb up the guide pole. I heard her at midday when I was finally falling asleep. She said it clearly. They stank but at least they hadn't died in vain. I barely ate a bite.
Monday:
I spent a week locked up. I searched the web but couldn't find any type of demon described like what my neighbor has now become. With less and less hair. It seems this aberration will be bald. I saw her with a skull full of veins which she moved with her hands to shape them. A terrifying hairstyle, if anyone ever asks. The skin flaps stress me out. Even more so because she had the audacity to greet me. Dead skin dancing on her arms. Inviting me to try her red fruits when they grew. I don't think she saw my face. Even I regret sometimes seeing her in a reflection.
Tuesday:
Today I will resign. I told myself that after the first return to usefulness. That place is no longer somewhere one can coexist. The grime, filth, and things I'd rather not think about splatter the entire table. Various thick liquids with horrendous odors plague the cubicles. I see them slurping them with pleasure. They smell like ground liver. Like what you run from when you didn't want to eat something at grandma's house. They invited me. Said it was excellent for strengthening defenses. Made with a mix of fresh materials and supplemented with some dehydrated and ground things. I barely managed to finish my shift. I haven't left the job yet, it's not payday.
Friday:
Today I decided not to go to work anymore. I notified them with cash in hand that I didn't feel well. The thing that was my supervisor is now an amorphous mass with a giant mouth. He was smoking a worm when I left the office. His screams threatening that I wouldn't find another job accompanied me all the way home. Once here, just when I was about to celebrate, I remembered my card was in my desk drawer. I don't carry it because I know I'd use it and leave myself in worse misery than I've ever had. I think I can handle the night shift ones. The day shift ones are a mix of jackals with hyena heads. Chewing human and animal parts while reviewing the new import records. The same ones I haven't reviewed in a while, I just pass the codes as fast as I can. Despite the fear they cause me, I earned a small bonus for producing more than the rest. I can't go another day. I can't take it anymore. My coworkers are gone. Things look worse and worse. Today I'll go, but not like this. Better I look for my pipe wrench and a good knife. God knows I'm not asking for myself, but I hope to return in one piece.
Saturday:
I don't know how I ended up back home. I don't know how I got out of there alive. Seeing the night staff didn't scare me as much as I expected. They were just gray creatures, eyeless, their mouths seemed normal, maybe slightly sharp teeth. Nothing my key and I couldn't handle. None of them suspected I'm not like them. They mocked my lack of character for staying in a place where they'd give me a very large piece of meat instead of pursuing my dreams. I preferred to say nothing. I reached into my drawer and although some very fat spiders came out, none attacked me. My card was safe and in my hand.
Although it was hard, I moved away from all those who wanted me to pay for their drinks. Not that I'd be scared if they asked for beer, but I seriously doubt anything that comes from barley would please them. One asked for a 'trucker bomb'... pineapple coke bottle. Disgusting.
The street was difficult. Not because of the shadows. I faced those during my vacation week. No matter how much they moved and whispered my name or what they planned to do with me. None approached my lighter. But that confidence betrayed me.
A small silhouette. Moving little by little came out of a corner. It looked like an old man, but no, when he took off his hat, one eye stared at me intently. The other began to move upward. He asked what I was doing there. I said I went out for bread. He laughed while on his head his eye opened, enormous, crying blood. He told me he knew I didn't go out for that. Surely I was affecting the new order of society. They would find me and take me prisoner... Me? For nothing would I go with demons who are imprisoned by other demons! So I distracted him and hit him, hard, in the eye. Until he stopped moving. I didn't touch him. I couldn't leave any trace of myself. The fluid from his eye advanced to cling to my footwear but I avoided it. From there it was a confusing journey. But I'm back home. For now, I'm safe.
Sunday:
I didn't sleep. My house seemed safe when I rented it. Now the large windows only have a ridiculous screen that protected me from mosquitoes. But surely it will do nothing against the vermin my neighbors have become. I hear them like cockroaches in the hallways and on the upper floors. The building is a death trap. I'm thankful I live on the ground floor. I'll have to do something to prevent their eventual attacks.
The hardware store supplies me with what I need to board up the place. Going there exposed me to another scene straight from hell. A thing in a dress was throwing something that turned out to be an eye to others of various colors. The splashing was disgusting but she laughed. While another with the shape of a red goblin jumped supported by an intestine coming out of its belly. I covered my ears to avoid the verses. I had managed until the first one saw me without eyes. Smiling that way like when you avoid laughing at a joke. But with her mouth red, whatever it was, she ate it fresh. She told me laughing that I looked strange. That I wasn't normal... I was the only normal one on the street! I don't sell dead dogs, I don't pull out things from beyond the grave to offer. I swear I'll never do that! So on impulse, I silenced her. I'm sure it will give me time to prepare my defense.
Wednesday:
I don't know how many days I hid, it's clear they already suspect I'm the human they haven't possessed. I limited my activities to nights. They are terrifying all day. Well, then I can be terrifying at night! That's how I get supplies. I can't go to the supermarket. The things they sell on the shelves. How no one cares about the amount of death. About canned putrefaction. The only thing that remains relatively normal is bread. With some mold stains but still chewable... I don't just survive. I fight back. Many of the sellers are no longer around to tell the tale. I made sure to advance and eliminate evil as far from my room as I could. But the news tells me they're coming for me. I shouldn't have eliminated the demon that tried to charge me rent using my soul. I couldn't leave my refuge and then he confronted me about the protections I put up. About the light. About not using his gray, purulent water to bathe. I stink, yes, but like a human, not like this mockery of a jackal with damaged skin and only a little hair in some places. I invited him in so they wouldn't hear him defend himself. He couldn't. No one would believe that with my body I could subdue that mass. For that, he had to know what was coming for him. A human who would defend the last vestige of his race.
Friday:
They're coming for me. I have everything prepared. They may be millions but before I go, I'll make a last stand. Humans will not fall without a fight!
Thud!
"Sir?"
"Hurry, look for more footprints. I'm sure that what he wrote here doesn't include all his victims!"
"Sir!"
While the sirens sound, only one face is in the officer's mind. A small man, thin from a terrible diet, with eyes that fled from the room. That's how he found him. In the corner of the interrogation room at the sanatorium, psychiatric wing, with a doctor shaking his head while the detective tried to find out something more than the diagnoses that didn't matter in his consideration. Rescuing at least one intact victim would be a lot for him... The Executor, was the stupid nickname the press gave him. Captured a week ago and that time he spent pissing every time someone spoke to him. Concentrated on eating bread with water despite being offered better food. They couldn't penetrate his psychotic shell, according to the specialist. A mind so damaged could never give him the answers he was looking for.
"There are dozens of victims, Doctor. We don't have to have compassion."
"He's a man overwhelmed by the chaotic life of modernity. I believe my scientific opinion is that he needs rest."
"He doesn't deserve something like that. That bastard put marbles in a little girl's mouth."
"I'm sure he had his reasons."
"What could justify nailing an old woman to her ruby orange saplings?"
"Look, I know how this looks. But he's not conscious. For him, we are all a threat. You'd better stop shouting or we won't find a way to connect with him and have him tell us about his suffering."
"You have no idea how much blood runs through this killer's hands."
"Sick."
"But what nonsense you speak. This is a killer who cost a lot to catch. Victims who, even when they live, some can't see a silhouette without their minds fleeing into nothingness, and here you have him. With all the comforts a human could want: health, he has doctors who see him. Food, shelter, even a lawyer. Damn it!"
"This man is just the beginning of many others who suffer in this society. He's not the bad guy. Just a misfit whose reality twisted to such a point that nothing can connect him."
"But he has a diary, right?"
"Yes. It's the only thing we have that's clear. There he wrote down everything he did. Everything he believes he knows. His fears. If only I could find it, I could show him all the pain he lived through for years."
Desperate, the detective left and entered the first store he found. There, some gloves and a terrifying clown mask cost him less than a day of the killer's maintenance. It was a desperate measure. But he also knew that if he didn't say anything to him, he could perfectly well hit him. He deserved it, and it would be a win-win situation.
Despite having little faith in his plan, the specialist let him in. There he saw him, with the aroma of waste, feces, and urine soaking his pants. Hands on his head. He didn't see anyone. Unlike before, this time he did turn to see that red smile and white features. Mocking.
"Are you against the demons?"
"Where is your diary?"
"My record of achievements? Could you get me out of here?"
"No. I came for your information."
"Of course. I'll gladly give you whatever you need, as long as you don't stop the fight. I haven't given up yet, you know? I still have to show the world what they are."
"If what your diary says matches your version. I'm sure death won't come to you. You'll live your entire miserable existence. I'll make sure of that. You'll have doctors. Even a damn fitness specialist. You'll rot in prison. But your death won't be so cheap."
"I know. You speak in code. My achievement log is on the train. On one of its platforms. Perhaps you should hurry. I hid it, but with the rains, I don't know if it will survive."
An hour later he was in front of the text. Bizarre was too mild a term. He sounded convinced. But the detective refused to believe him. The victims wouldn't rest if someone like that was declared insane... Even admitting that what was written there was how he saw the world, it wasn't fair that he kept living. The souls of the dead would return to torment the officer if he didn't manage to prove that the bastard deserved not the death penalty, but to rot in a dungeon getting beaten by all the inmates. The children, siblings, and parents of those he had taken by surprise would be there.
"We found one, chief!"
"Here's another!"
"Ugh! There are pieces... Ugh! Maybe three."
"A girl!"
"An old man!"
"Damn, this is a family... what the hell!"
"At least their bodies will find peace. Don't stop searching!"
With his hand on the notebook. A darkness as simple as that of the subway tunnels didn't seem as threatening as these pages pressed in imitation leather. In the end, if thanks to this they recovered everyone, maybe he'd escape the death penalty. How he wished he would!
It took two hours to recover everything. The entire police force dedicated themselves to the search. When the criminal pathology team began to descend, he opened the diary one last time. There he saw it. With a beam of black light the forensics were using. Some glows. Barely a line on the last page. As he turned the pages, he saw more and more of these lines. But with the booklet closed, nothing appeared. Then he slid it. That's how the words formed. When the text was complete, he ran out. The notebook flew out and only he knew what it said in letters of blood, the word was clear.
L I E S
The car screeched to a halt in the parking lot. The hospital was calm. Still running, he could see he had arrived late. A tune. A humming slowly brought him closer to the ambulance entrance. There he didn't need to know anything else. The gun aimed at whoever was sitting at the entrance. Chewing a piece of bread, smiling at him. The clothes were of many levels of red. Down to the pants where it was almost black.
"Clown!"
"What did you do?"
"You can follow the trail. I'm sure you can figure it out."
"I know you lied."
"Well, of course! Only one thing was true in that notebook."
"A bullet in your head, that's what you deserve!"
"Me? But according to them, I'm a victim. You went to prove I wasn't. You left me here while you ran looking for the bait I left."
"You're not human."
"Now I'm the demon?... I don't think so. I'm just someone who, amidst all the softness, knew which side my bread was buttered on."
The tears didn't stop him from holding his weapon. Aiming directly at the head. From his radio, information gushed out. The dead. The mutilated people. How many patients disconnected. The emergency service that for the first time would arrive to assist and not to deliver patients.
"Detective, besides, I'm sure you won't be able to keep your promise."
"What are you saying?"
"That one you made about capturing me and making me rot... I'm sure you promised something like that."
"Of course I'll keep it. You're going to die slowly."
"No. I'm a wolf in a flock of sheep. Like that little girl with her marbles... I didn't know she was his daughter. I faked my crying and remorse very well. You can see me on the recordings. But as I told you, you won't be able to keep any of your promises."
"No."
Bang!
THE END