How To Recognize A Demon Has Become Your Friend (Necon Modern Horror Book 9)

How to
Recognize a Demon Has Become Your Friend

by

Linda D.
Addison

Necon
Modern Horror #9

Cover
and Interior Art by Jill Bauman

A
digital edition published by Necon E-Books

Copyright
2011 Linda Addison

Cover
& Interior Art Copyright 2011 by Jill Bauman

This ebook is
licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or
given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this
book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then
please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this
author.

The stories contained herein,
including names, characters and places, are works of fiction. Any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

This collection is dedicated to
Bob Booth, the Necon Gang and all my friends and family who have wrapped me in
love…

Copyright Acknowledgments

“Night of the Living and Dead”
copyright 1995 by Outer Darkness magazine, Fall Annual.

“Little Red in the Hood” copyright
1995 by Tomorrow magazine.

“Pullus Cogens” copyright 1997 by
Tomorrow magazine.

“Dust to Dust”, “One Night at
Sheri-Too-Long’s Popcorn Bar”, “Just Passing Through”, “The Box”, “Animated
Objects”, “Am I Repeating Myself?” copyright 1997 by Animated Objects (Space
& Time).

“Boo” copyright 1998 by Going Postal
anthology (Space & Time).

“Land Sharks” copyright Sept 1998 by
Asimov’s SF magazine.

“Fire/Fight”, “Forever Dead”,
“Bottling Up De Evil”, “Mourning Meal”, “Sharp, Shiny Hurting Things” copyright
2001 by Consumed, Reduced to Beautiful Grey Ashes (Space & Time).

“Excerpts from The Unabridged
Traveler’s Guide as UFOs in Galaxy A.G.2” copyright 2001 by Scars anthology.

“Comic Cannibals” copyright 2001 by
GSHW in A Fearful Way.

“The Power” copyright 2004 Dark
Dreams (Kensington Publishing Corp).

“Milez
To Go” copyright 2006 by Voices From The Other Side, Dark Dreams II (Kensington
Publishing Corp).

I’ve always loved words. When I
was in school and the teacher gave me a copy of my first book, “See Dick Run”
kind of book. I remember holding it and knowing I wanted to make things like
this without understanding what that meant. I did know it told a story and my
mother was a wonderful storyteller who would make up tales, and include us
children as characters.

I still love words. I’ve been
known to take the titles of friends’ books and turn them into a poem. Some find
it amusing and/or perplexing. I just like playing with words.

From Linda to Linda

One Night at
Sheri-Too-Long’s Popcorn Bar

after Working Up the Corporate
Ladder

I ordered a
Pullus Cogens on the rocks,

having failed to Recognize my
Friend had Become a Demon

I became a Ghost
Driving Sharp, Shiny Hurting Things

down a endless road of 369 Gates
of Hell.

In this Night of
the Living and Dead

I was Just Passing Through,
Unrequited and sad,

what little Power
was left in me was more of a Mourning Meal,

sprinkled with ground Land
Sharks, the band ‘Milez To Go’

played, Little
Red from the Hood danced with Comic Cannibals,

Am I Repeating Myself?

There is no
Future or Past, just me and The Forever Dead

wishing we had bottled Up De
Evil,

In This Strange
Place, Imperfect and weak, I want to

Live and Let Live, but Demons
Dance with Animated Objects,

Bending into the
Fire/Fight around me, I wish I had recognized

a Demon had Become my Friend, so
I could return,

Dust to Dust, to
Galaxy A.G.2 and the peace of mortality.

 
—
Linda Addison

Song from their
open mouth makes you sleep,

upon waking you
feel empty and sad,

there is a mark of ash on your
chest

where your heart should be.

Their eyes remind
you of hunger,

but everything
you eat has no taste,

your eyes reflect flames in the
mirror

you stare at the sun, but it
doesn’t hurt.

They ask you for
the time

but you tell them
when you were born,

suddenly you can’t remember

your mother or father.

Your other
friends stop calling you,

their faces flash
as ‘Missing’ online,

you change your status to

‘Possessed’ on your social
network.

When you walk
past a church with them

you feel sick and
have to cross the street,

they joke about being allergic to
old

buildings, you laugh with them.

One day you blink
and you have no breath,

memories of your
life fade like a dream,

all you see is red sky, ash under
your feet

and in their burning arms you
cannot cry.

My remains have been rudely
thrust into the ground without a coffin. There is something unfinished about
the whole thing. I wish I could remember dying.

Gasses created in my intestines
churn through useless blood vessels and dead tissue, inflating what was a thin
body into something large and misshapen. My body fluids leak from every opening
into the surrounding earth. There is life in me still, if I count the maggots
feasting inside. I must smell and look horrible.

I now know where the soul lives.
The enduring bones. Through my bones I’m connected to the earth around me. I
hear the murmuring of others, their bones talking, praying, and calling out.
The earth answers us, singing warmth and security.

Distant voices of pain cry in
deep sadness. There is some horror there, I fear. Are they in Hell? It’s hard
to imagine the earth that has been my comfort giving pain. The screams of those
tortured souls recedes.

I measure time by the changes in
the soft mass surrounding my bones. Gas-filled organs rupture and leak from
under skin slippery with large blisters. Escaping fluid purges my maggot guests
and allows the earth to move closer. I can’t wait until these soft parts rot
away, to have all of my bones touched by earth. Here and there my skeleton is
exposed.

Grains of dirt caress parts of my
skull and fingers free of skin and tissue. The joy and peace flowing to me is
like no feeling I can remember before I died.

There is randomness to my memory
of the other side. The memories are fleeting, filled with the needs of the
breathing soft body that covered my bones when I was alive. Moments of
happiness and pain entangle, making the memories all but meaningless to
capture. Nothing like the tranquility the earth gives me. The song of earth’s
souls surrounding me is more beautiful than anything I’ve ever experienced. I
could spend eternity with this song.

All the rotting meat is gone.
Finally my bones are touched by earth. I am complete. The only thing better
will be when my bones crumble and mix with the earth.

There is a subtle change in the
song around me. It’s becoming distant. A white light covers my bones. The light
comes towards me. There are others in the light. I’m being pulled into the
light, back to the other side. I’m losing all of this. I don’t want to be
smothered in organs, muscles and skin again. I don’t want to become deaf to the
songs, to be a single, lonely body again.

 
I start to cry...

She was so hungry

raw nothingness

growing at her center.

Eating began with simple things

a kindergarten drawing

the yellow construction paper
crunchy.

The plastic badge from swimming
class

chewy at first

its silver foil edge caught in her
teeth.

The handmade Mother’s Day card

smelled sweet

its crayon words tasted bitter.

One toy spaceman

bitten into little pieces

swallowed like strange pills.

She ate her way through his trail

piece by sheet

but still the hunger scratched
inside.

Each memory lingered

like the sweet herbs she used

in his favorite meal.

Soup she would never make again

like his face

she would never see again.

The first time Brenda saw her
cousin, Angelique, she looked like a black angel. Dark as sweet chocolate,
dressed in shades of cinnamon chiffon. As Angelique stood at the top of the
Amtrak train stairs, Brenda took one look at her and knew she had the Power. It
glimmered around her. She glanced at her father. He obviously didn’t see how
special Angelique was; even Angelique seemed unaware of the strength of the
sparkling light she threw out that Saturday morning.

“Angelique, is that you?”
Brenda’s father lifted the girl from the train to the ground. The layers of her
dress floated in the air like wings. “Look how you’ve grown. Last time I saw
you, you were only as tall as a dream, and now you and your cousin Brenda are
growing like rainbows into the sky.”

Brenda was used to her father
talking like poetry, every now and then. Grandmom said he was one of those
people who’d been born in a moment of luminosity and had no choice. He was an
artist who made things out of anything he found on the street, and taught
elementary school. Fortunately, Brenda was never in his classes, but Grandmom
said that was just the way it should be, plain and simple, and Brenda should
thank her mother in heaven for looking after her.

A porter carried Angelique’s
suitcases to the platform.

“Girl, your mother sent you with
enough clothes for a year, and you’re only here for the summer. That’s just
like Julia.” He laughed. “This is a beautiful dress, but I hope you got some
playing-around clothes.”

“Yes, sir,” Angelique said.

“In North Carolina that’s the
polite thing to say, but there are no ‘sirs’ here in Philly. Uncle Larry will
do. Okay?”

“Yes, Uncle Larry,” she said
slowly.

“How are your Mom and Dad?” he
asked.

“Mother is busy with her charity
work, and Father’s business is doing very well.” Angelique smoothed her dress.

“Good. Now let’s get you home so
your grandmother can take a look at you. She’s cooked quite a feast in your
honor.”

Larry picked up as many suitcases
as he could carry; the porter trailed behind with the rest.

Brenda took Angelique’s hand and
pulled her along with them. “I’m so happy you’re here. You’re staying in my
room. I’ve got two beds. We can be like twin sisters, just like our moms really
were.”

“I’d like that.” Angelique
squeezed Brenda’s hand.

When they reached the parking lot
Larry paid the porter and packed the suitcases in the car. Angelique whispered
in Brenda’s ear, “Do you know that old woman following us?”

“Where?” Brenda asked.

“Behind me, across the street.”
Angelique turned around. “She’s gone now, but she was staring at us on the
train platform.”

“I didn’t notice her.” Brenda
shrugged. “Could’ve been anybody.”

As they drove to West
Philadelphia, Brenda talked about all the fun they would have over the summer.
They pulled into a driveway next to a three floor wood house off Lancaster
Avenue. As they stepped out of the car, their grandmother waved to them from
the porch.

She gathered Angelique into her
strong arms and gave her a huge hug. Her deep laugh echoed on the porch as she
held Angelique at arm’s length.

“Girl, look at you. Grown up
enough at twelve to travel by yourself.” She shook her head while smiling.

Larry carried some suitcases to
the porch and went back to the car for the rest.

“Everyone grab a bag,” Grandmom
said.

The house was filled with the
smell of roasted chicken and apple pie. Grandmom settled in the green velvet
couch and made Angelique sit next to her. “Now, let’s give your mother a call.”

“I’ll do it.” Angelique picked up
the phone.

“Hello, Mother.

“Yes, the train ride was fine.

“No, I won’t forget.

“Yes, Mother.” Angelique said
several times as she chewed the corner of her right thumb.

“Goodbye.” She handed the phone
to her grandmother.

“Hi, honey.

“Oh, you worry too much. Nobody
is running wild here. Her and Brenda will have a great summer.” She winked at
Angelique.

“We’ll give you a call next week.
Bye sweetie.”

She patted Angelique’s hand.
“That daughter of mine always did worry too much. You know I think it’ll be
good for both of you to have a little space. Now let’s eat some of this food
I’ve been cooking.”

The dining room table was set up
with the good china and silverware on a white lace tablecloth. White candles
stood in crystal candle holders and a crystal bowl filled with daisies
decorated the center of the table.

“It looks like Thanksgiving,”
Angelique said.

“And that’s just what it is,
child, because we’re thankful to have you here.” She hugged Angelique. “You
girls wash your hands and help me bring out the vegetables.”

The doorbell rang. Larry answered
it and the house filled with the sounds of children and adults as his two
brothers and their families came in.

The evening went like a family
reunion, everyone talking and eating. Angelique answered everyone’s questions
politely, smiled shyly and stayed near Brenda or her grandmother. After
dessert, the adults sat in the living room drinking and smoking while the
children played checkers in the dining room.

Everyone left around nine and
their grandmother sent the girls to bed, saying Angelique was tired from all
that traveling and Brenda from being so excited.

The next morning, after
breakfast, Brenda asked, “Can we go to the video store, Grandmom? I want to
show Angelique around the neighborhood. “

“That’s fine, just be back home
by lunch time.”

“We will,” Brenda said.

They walked to the corner of the
block. They passed a couple of neighbors working in their yard, but once they
turned onto Lancaster Avenue the sidewalk was full of people. Brenda and
Angelique looked in the windows of the shoe and clothes store, and ran into
some of Brenda’s friends on the way to the video rental store. They spent a
long time looking at the new movie and game releases before picking an action
movie to rent.

On the way home they heard a
shuffling behind them. Brenda looked backwards quickly. “It’s that crazy old
lady from across the street.”

Angelique glanced at the woman.
“That’s the woman I saw at the train station.”

Brenda frowned. “Just ignore
her.” She pointed at a small deli on the corner. “Let’s get some sodas.”

When they came out of the store,
the woman was not in sight. They turned the next corner onto the block of their
house. The old woman limped out from behind a large oak tree. She was dressed
in layers, torn red pants under a gray dress and dirty beige sweater.

She gestured with a bent finger
at them. “You shoulda been my sweet girl. I be teaching you right
stuff–make good use of all that sweet sparkly breathing out of your skin.
She won’t show you all the light - dark makings.” She spat in the direction of
their house.

“Mrs. Johnston, we need to get
home,” Brenda said, pulling Angelique around the woman.

“Don’t you worry, it ain’t you I
got the problem with. Keep up your learning. Yeah, that’s what you do, my shiny
diamonds. I follow your light. You my pretty key.” She laughed through a mouth
of missing teeth.

They heard her shrill laughter as
they rushed down the street. When they turned around she was gone. They sat on
the porch to get their breath.

“What was she talking about?”
Angelique asked.

“Don’t pay any attention to her.
She’s been strange every since I can remember. People say she lost her mind
when her husband and son died in a car accident.” Brenda pointed to a broken
down house across the street. “That’s her place.”

The yard was overgrown with weeds
and a wild rose bush covering the front porch. A couple of windows were broken
and paint peeled from the wood frame.

“That house doesn’t look like
anyone lives in it,” Angelique said. “Are you sure she’s not dangerous?”

“She can’t hurt us, we’re
protected.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll explain later, let’s get
lunch.” Brenda unlocked the front door.

After lunch, Brenda asked,
“Grandmom, can we go to the attic?”

“Okay, honey. Be careful up
there.” She spread fresh herbs from the garden on the kitchen table.

“We will,” Brenda said.

They went up to the second floor.
Brenda pulled the attic cord, lowered the stair ladder and scampered up into
the dark opening. Angelique took one step and stood at the bottom.

“It’s kind of dark,” she said.

“Just a minute.” Brenda
disappeared into the attic and a light came on. After a few seconds she popped
her head out of the opening. Angelique was still on the first step. “You
coming? There’s lots of cool stuff up here.”

Angelique stepped up and tottered
forward to hold onto the upper steps. “I-I — “

“You’ve never been on a ladder
before?” Brenda asked.

“Ladies don’t climb ladders.” She
held onto the step.

“I don’t know about that, but if
you want to get to the attic you’re going to have to climb this ladder. Here,
back off.” Brenda climbed back down. “You go up first. Take one step at a time,
hold on to the step above if you need, but don’t look up or down, just go for
the next step until you’re at the top. I’ll be right behind you. I won’t let
you fall. I promise.”

“Okay.” Angelique took each step
like a baby learning to climb stairs for the first time, but finally got to the
top and pulled herself into the attic.

Boxes, trunks and old furniture
crowded the floor. It smelled musty and a fine layer of dust had settled on all
the surfaces.

“It’s not very clean up here.”
Angelique touched a carton. She wiped her fingers on her jeans.

“Don’t say that too loud.
Grandmom will have us up here with a bucket and rags, cleaning.” Brenda took a
couple of old towels from a box in the corner, threw one at Angelique and used
the other to wipe off the top of a wood box. “Some of these things are from
when Grandmom moved here to help take care of me after Mommy died.”

“Let’s see what’s in here.” She
read the label. “‘Brenda baby toys’, not very interesting. What’s that trunk
near you say, Angelique?”

She wiped off the dust. “It’s my
mother’s toys.”

“Now that’s more like it.” Brenda
unbuckled the leather straps and flipped open the trunk. The acrid scent of
mothballs drifted into the air.

There were baby blankets on top,
inside plastic bags. Underneath were baby clothes in shades of pink, yellow and
white. They stacked them on the floor. At the bottom they found a rag doll and
other toys. The material of its body was made from worn blue flannel, with
brown yarn hair, button eyes, red felt lips and faded red flannel dress.

“I’ve never imagined my mother
playing with dolls,” Angelique said.

“Well, Aunt Julia definitely
played with this doll.” Brenda handed the doll to Angelique. “There’s more toys
in here.” She pulled out stuffed animals, a wooden pull car with a frayed cord,
a metal tobacco tin filled with marbles and ribbons.

Angelique touched each toy but
kept the doll in her lap. She carried the doll tucked under her arm as they
investigated other boxes, finding old clothes and dish sets. Brenda went
through the drawers of a dresser and discovered a small red bag tied with white
cord. She brought it to the light and sniffed it.

“What’s that?” Angelique asked,
putting her mother’s doll on an old trunk.

Brenda carefully untied the bag
and emptied its contents in a teacup. It was a ball of white wax with little
bits of what looked like sticks lodged in it.

“It’s a conjure ball. Looks like
a spell of protection.”

“How do you know that?” Angelique
said.

“Don’t you know the power runs
strong in our family? That’s what Grandmom says.”

“Magic isn’t real.”

“It’s real enough. Grandmom says
I’m too young, but I’ve learned a lot about magic online.” She dropped the ball
back into the bag and tied it close. “Can’t you feel the light around this
charm? It’s been up here for years and it’s still glowing.” Brenda held the bag
up by its cord.

“I don’t see anything but an old
bag,” Angelique said. “Mother says voodoo is uneducated superstition.”

“Voodoo isn’t the same thing.
Anyway, magic is just people using their power, mostly to help others,” Brenda
said. She took Angelique’s hands in hers. “It’s inside everybody and
everything; some people have it stronger than others. Can’t you feel it?”

Brenda put Angelique’s hands on
her chest and closed her eyes. She took a slow breath. White light flickered behind
her closed eyes. Tingling began below her belly button and pulled up through
her chest, gathered in her next breath. She pushed out and opened her eyes.

Angelique stood with her eyes
closed, smiling. Brenda could feel her light mix with Angelique’s and drift
into the air around them.

“You see,” Brenda said.

Angelique opened her eyes and
took a deep breath. “What was that?”

“Me reaching out to you. What did
it feel like?”

“Like electricity and light and
warmth, like a dream.” Angelique held her hands up, looked at each finger.

Brenda saw the warm glow of gold
light outline Angelique’s hands and it was clear that Angelique finally saw it
also.

“This is no more of a dream than
any of us see when awake. Grandmom says God is dreaming us all the time.”

“That was just a trick.”
Angelique stepped backwards away from Brenda.

“You know that’s not true. You
can feel it inside, whether you believe it or not.”

“Well, I did feel something. And
that glowing...” Angelique sat down on a trunk. “Even if I have this power
— what good is it?”