Night Demons

PART ONE TO FOUR

DIVORCED, DAMAGED AND DANGEROUS

Night Demon Parts 1 to 4

Part One:

The Dream

The lane was dark, stretched long and deep,

Where shadows crouch and spiders creep.

Their hairy legs, a beady stare

Eyes blinking in the hedgerow’s lair.

Two steps in—then came a snap

,A rustle. Breath caught in the trap.

Was it real, or just my mind?

Panic swelled, and thoughts entwined.

Heartbeat racing, picked up speed,

The air grew thick with fear and need.

Then from the dark, a face drew near

His gaze was cold, his presence clear.

He reached for me, he found my hair

I screamed, but silence gripped the air.

He whispered low, “You’re mine, my dear,”

And wrapped me tight in ghostly fear.

I turned to glimpse his hollow face,

I shrank beneath his cold embrace.

His eyes aglow, a vacant stare,

My limbs went numb in night-chilled air.

I screamed again—no sound came out.

His arms like ropes,

I fought with doubt.

He hissed, “You’re mine forever now,”

I writhed beneath his chilling vow.

We struggled hard—a desperate hour

I struck his jaw;

he seemed to cower.

I took my chance and broke away,

And ran as though I’d melt with day.

Through twisted dark, with pounding feet,

Afraid I’d die before retreat.

Behind me rose a guttural sound

He knelt and growled upon the ground.

His burning eyes, his snarling grin,

A haunting rage beneath the skin.

I ran and ran, no breath to spare

Till dawnlight shimmered through the air.

But as I reached my garden gate,

He stood there still—as if to wait.

I closed my eyes, the world grew still,

The silence deeper than the chill.

Then with a jolt, I broke the seam

And woke alone. A haunted dream.

Part Two: Waking Shadows

The morning light was soft and grey,

But still I felt the dark’s decay.

My fingers trembled, skin ice-cold,

As if the nightmare still took hold.

I brushed my hair, a knot pulled tight

A strand came loose, as pale as night.

And in the mirror, just a trace

A shadow flickered past my face.

I laughed it off—a dream, that’s all,

But down the stairs, I felt the crawl

Of something near, just out of sight,

Still lingering from last night’s fright.

The kettle hissed, the toaster hummed,

Yet all around, the silence thrumed.

I turned—and there, a smear, a mark

A handprint black upon the dark.

The window steamed, though none had breathed.

A whisper curled beneath the eaves.

“You’re mine,” it echoed, low and thin,

And chills bloomed icy on my skin.

I grabbed the phone—no signal found.

The room fell still, without a sound.

And in the glass behind my head,

A shifting face stared back—half-dead.

The demon smiled, his eyes aglow,

A silent guest from depths below.

Part Three: The Mark

The days passed slow, in hollow hush,

Each moment edged with creeping crush.

I barely slept, I barely ate

The fear had grown to something fate.

I searched the net, I scoured old books,

In dusty corners, shadowed nooks.

I found a tale in brittle page

Of women marked at childhood’s age.

They spoke of him in whispered tones,

A watcher carved from ancient stones.

He slips through sleep,

through shadowed rift,

A cursed soul,

a soul to lift.

They called him Daimon, king of night,

Who feeds on fear and veils in fright.

He brands the ones who walk alone

And binds them to his realm unknown.

I touched my scalp

my breath held tight

Beneath my hair, a wound, slight-white.

A perfect ring, a crimson seal,

No scab or bruise—yet sharp and real.

The nightmares weren’t just mind’s dismay,

They were a door.

I’d lost my way.

And through that door, he’d slithered free

Now bound by blood and bone to me.

I heard him whisper in the breeze,

His fingers brushed the willow trees.

Sleep again—but now awake

No dream this time, no mind to break.

He haunts the corners, lurks in light,

He waits within both sleep and sight.

And every dusk, I feel him near

The dream, now real. The truth unclear.

Part Four: The Possession

He speaks in me with silent thread,

A voice that blooms behind my head.

Not words, but wants—like hunger’s tide,

That swells and snarls and will not hide.

My hands move sometimes not my own,

They write his name in ash and bone.

I find black feathers in my bed,

And smell of smoke around my head.

I tried to pray, to scream, to run

But shadows stretched and sealed the sun.

A laugh—my laugh—but not quite mine,

It echoed like a twisted spine.

The world grows dim, or I grow deep

I drift through life half-caged, half-sleep.

He sees through me,

and speaks in skin

The gate is closed, but he’s within.

Part Four: The Reckoning

I woke to cinders on my tongue,

But felt a power newly sprung.

A name I’d learned from elder flame

His true name, wrapped in secret shame.

I carved a circle, salt and thread,

Lit candles black and burning red.

I spoke the words, my voice not weak

He came, all grin and rot and reek.

“You are my cage,” he breathed in me.

“You are my root, my blood, my tree.”

I stood though knees began to shake

“This soul is mine. You made mistake.”

He laughed—his echo split the air,

But fire danced along my hair.

And when I spoke his hidden sound,

His shadow screamed and shook the ground.

He lunged—but light burst from my chest,

A blaze he could not hold or wrest.

He cracked like glass in winter’s grip

Then slipped, then fell, then ceased to slip.

And silence bloomed, a silver dawn

The weight had passed.

The mark was gone.

But deep inside,

I keep one spark

For night still hums.

And night is dark.