This story was inspired by the Halloween season and the following prompts:
Resist the Devil.
Mephistophelian, that devilish turn of phrase. When I learned the word, I never thought I’d ever come to use it. It was elaborate, over the top and rather sensationalist.
However, then I met David.
He was one of those guys that when he walked into a room, all eyes focused on him. People stopped what they were doing, ignored the person they were with and looked at him.
He wasn’t outstanding in any way. He was of average height and not particularly handsome, but there was something about his eyes that burned. He had an aura about him.
He walked over to the bar and ordered a long island iced tea. I have never seen the barman move so quickly. There were plenty of people at the bar vying for attention and waving their notes in their hands, but Dave got served first. He always did, I found out later.
What was this strange power that he had over people? I never really discovered it, or maybe I just didn’t want to believe it. He just held sway wherever he went.
He also had a way about him that made whoever he was talking to, whoever his attention fell upon, feel like the most important person on the earth. His eyes seemed to pour energy into you. You suddenly felt wonderful, adorable, perfect. You had to be for him to want to lavish so much attention on you, him who everyone wanted to be with.
It was magnetic. It was also quite frightening.
I never thought of myself as easily lead. I was never susceptible to hypnotism or peer pressure or mind tricks. I always had a strong personality, but I found myself affected by this guy, just like everyone else. When he’d gone and I was on my own, it used to irk me. Made me feel foolish like a sheep just going along with the herd.
He bought me a drink and we chatted, not about anything deep, just music I liked, things like that. When I asked him a question he batted it away and never gave a proper answer, he asked questions but never answered them. It added to his mystery, at least at first.
Why he’d come to that bar on that night, I never found out, but it was Friday the 13th and an omen if ever there was one.
At first, he was fascinating, but then I started to realise that weird things happened around him. Accidents happened. Unexplained things. People falling over and hitting their heads on the curb, bleeding to death. A car crash where he was the only survivor in the car and everyone else died. People falling out of windows, cutting themselves on their cutlery. I noticed that he would smile and laugh about the incidents. He seemed to derive pleasure from these mishaps that left people maimed or even killed.
I never told him where I lived, something told me that he wasn’t the kind of guy my family would approve of. Something also told me that he wasn’t the kind of person you invited in. He would always find me, whenever I went out to the local bar. He would walk in, smile and come over to me. I realised he seemed to find me fascinating too.
“Let’s go for a walk down to the river,” he said to me once. It was raining heavily outside and I wasn’t in the mood to be alone with him.
“What are you trying to do, drench me?” I responded. Something seemed to flash across his face, his eyes burned as he drew me close and whispered in my ear “Why must you always resist me?”
He walked away then, and I thought nothing more of it.
I often think back to that autumn and the guy who called himself David.
Instinctively, I knew he had another name.
I still wonder if it had been me who’d brought him to town. He’d arrived not long after my friends and I decided to have some fun with an Ouija. All those who’d had accidents and been killed, in the car crash, or from falling out of the window, they’d been with me that night when we thought it’d be so much fun to try a summoning.
They all died, except me.
Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 27/October/2018