Otherness

By Gabriel Alencar

The Demon of the Deep Abyss couldn’t stand it anymore:

“Heck, it’s always the same crap”, he said, throwing his tentacles in the air. “I’m so done with the pentagrams, salt and candles, heck, with rituals at three in the morning. THREE in the morning! For God’s sake! 

“The last one called me late at night. I was having a great time tormenting a priest, but I was summoned and had to go. Holy crap, who summons the Demon of the Deep Abyss to ask for the boyfriend to come back? I mean, are you freaking serious? My dear, get off Tinder and go talk to people, have just a bit of self-worth, will you? She even had the nerve to get mad at me when I said that.

“It’s always the same. I try to help and end up humiliated.”

Silence in the room, only the tic-tac of the clock on the wall. At the armchair, the therapist adjusted her glasses and asked:

“And why do you try to help?”

The Demon, lying on the couch, looked at the lines on the ceiling. He tried not to focus on the stains and the images that they formed. They resembled cute animals, and that scared him.

“Doc, it’s just that sometimes I get full of it. I try to do some evil, you know? But some people are so good at harming themselves that it’s just sad.”

The doctor took a note on her pad.

“Ok, let’s circle back to your first question. You mentioned you had many doubts, that you weren’t sure if you were living the best of your life-”

“My death.”

“Sure, your death.” She cleared her throat. “So, you said you weren’t sure what path to take. Could you tell me more about this?”

The Demon sat on the couch. He sighed and looked around the room, trying not to face the therapist — which was a bit weird considering it was him who had eyes of blood.

“Doc, well, my whole life I was taught that doing right was doing wrong. But, lately… I don’t know… Sometimes I kinda feel like doing right is not that wrong.”

“Interesting. And how did you arrive at this conclusion?”

“It was that girl I mentioned earlier, the one who called me at three in the morning. In fact, that girl’s mom was one of the first Brazilians I ever tormented. Heck, I messed up that kid’s life for good. Bullied at school, bad friendships that led to bad stuff, I was on the perfect track to ruin her. At some point, she didn’t even need my help to hurt herself anymore.

“And then she met the guy who is her husband today and everything fell apart. Darn, it was like a cold shower. After all the trouble I had, being with her since the teen years, actually, I think it was since her late childhood! Years and years of work and just… poof! All for nothing.

“I realized that in life or death, everything requires effort. We gotta invest time, resources, patience. And that would be fine, after all that’s what I’m called to do, but…

“Then she got married. I went to the wedding, hoping for maybe a final chance. And then… darn… there she was, smiling. I had seen her smiling before, sure, from the pleasures I helped her with. But then… that smile, that day… It was different, it was more like… herself.

“And that’s when it all started. For the next years, I would have that doubt in the back of my mind. I still do evil, sure, but I still have that nagging feeling, you know? Like… is this really what I’m supposed to do?”

And, once again, he sighed. The therapist, on the other hand, got where she wanted:

“Mr. Demon…”

“Don’t call me that. My name is Rob.”

“Of course… Rob. Where did you get the idea that you were supposed to do evil?”

“Heck, I’m a demon!”, he replied as if he just heard the most stupid and absurd question in the world. But, slowly, he gave it some thought. Truly, why do we do the things we do? “Isn’t it… Isn’t it obvious?”

But, just as he spoke, he already realized there was nothing obvious there. And then he knew the answer:

“Because my father said so.”

“Your father, you mean…”

“The Devil.”

“Yes.”

“That’s why I don’t like when people call me ‘Mr. Demon’, that’s his name.”

“What else is his, Rob?”

At this point, I wish I could tell you that the Demon realized that a good chunk of what he knew about life, I mean, death, was all based on what other people told him. I really wish. But at that moment, all he could do was cry. The sulfur dripping on the couch, the floor, stinking it all. The therapist covertly wrinkled her nose.

“I don’t… know!” That’s all the Demon could muster, in between tears.

He was still crying when the alarm clock went off, announcing the end of that session. 

“Well, Rob, this will be all for today.”

“Oh, right, right”, he replied, still sniffing. “Uh… same time next week?”

“Of course.”

He got up and offered a handshake. The doctor stood up, held one of his tentacles, and shook it. The Demon of the Deep Abyss gave her a farewell glance and left.

When the door closed the therapist gave a sigh, went back to her chair, and took her true form. As the protrusions on her head came out, she felt relieved. She was the Demon assigned to torment other Demons who doubted. Father’s orders.

Part of her wanted to smile because the session was a total success. One of her fangs even glinted. But it was at this moment that she started to question some things herself.

 Gabriel Alencar is a Brazilian writer with publications in literary magazines and international short story contests; he has also published three short story books. He seems to have no idea of what he is doing but enjoys every minute of it, especially when writing day-to-day drama, comedy, or nerd stuff. Find him at gabriel.souzalencar@gmail.com or his Instagram @escritoraoacaso.