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Storytellers:
Their Dreams Write our Lives
(Part 3)
By: John Miller
“What do we do now?” I whispered.
Before Simon could open his mouth, the shadow-demon rushed past him. Its trajectory took it past where Simon and I sat, and it slammed into the wall behind me. I saw a crimson splatter pattern on the white breakfast table, heard Simon groan, and I saw him bend sideways at the waist. He crumbled to the tiled floor. A small object flew over my head and smacked the table with a wet sound. It was purple and moist. I looked past the table and saw a hole in Simon’s side, and I realized the demon had ripped a kidney from his body.
“Simon!” I shouted.
I stood to run, but the demon placed its giant hand on my shoulder. I looked down and saw the length of its shadowy fingers touch my ribs, saw thick drops of blood drip down my arm, and felt cold graveyard-breath upon the back of my neck. The points of its claws pricked my flesh.
The shadow-demon forced me to sit.
Another shadow-demon floated into the kitchen. It kicked Simon’s body out of the way, looked around, then emitted a low wail and turned back to the doorway. Spenser entered the room with a grin.
“Hell of an assignment I gave you, isn’t it, Davie Boy?”
* * *
Spenser looked like JJ from Spiderman Movies, except he was thicker all around and looked meaner. My coworkers and I called him JJ behind his back. He sat across from me in the same seat where Simon had sat minutes earlier. On the table lay the purple kidney between us. It gleamed in the kitchen light. A musty scent filled the room and made me think of old coffins lined with mildew.
“Do you know what the difference is between the Order of Chaos and you Storytellers?” he asked in a gruff voice.
I glanced at the ugly shadow-demon behind Spenser and said, “Well, I think the Storytellers have you guys beat in the looks department.”
Spenser scowled and the shadow-demon growled. The demon floated in my direction, but my boss raised his hand to stop him.
“We can do this the hard way,” Spenser told me, “Or the easy way.”
“What’s the easy way?” I asked. “Not that I really want to know.”
When faced with stress, I always used humor and sarcasm to deal, but with my new self-confidence, quips flowed unabated. I realized while my old life and looks had come back, Spenser hadn’t changed my new self-confident demeanor. Maybe he didn’t know I’d changed who I was on the inside as well as the outside.
He glanced at the kidney on the breakfast table and smiled. I gulped and nodded when he looked back at me.
“We understand each other?” he asked.
I nodded again. I saw four or five shadows shuttle past the kitchen window the way they’d come, and I wondered where they went. What did demons do when they had free time? I shuddered and turned my attention back to my boss.
“As I was saying,” Spenser said, “The difference between my Order of Chaos and your Storytellers is not about beauty, but our goals are the same.”
I coughed. I looked at him to make sure he was serious—I knew I’d heard him right.
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