• Dormant

  /writingguy • short story • 22/11/2014 18:27:28 • link •

  My grandma had always told me that the devil was everywhere. He lurked in the hearts of everyone. If he was dormant inside of someone, the person would be kind. If he was active inside the person, the eyes would give them away. Their eyes would give them away.My grandma also told me kindness was the best protection against the devil. I knew Boris Finch had the devil active in him. He had these two grey sliver eye slits and a demonic smirk. Thin lips and always talked out the side of his mouth. I remember it so distinctly, the event that made the devil in me come out of hiding. I sat in the park upon a bench. I watched a pigeon strut on by. He was a pretty little guy, he was mainly gray but his belly was white with some undertones of blue. ''Hi Mr. Pigeon,'' I said. ''Gonna catch some worms today?''
  He continued his strutting. He paid me no mind. I respected him for that. He was a creature, seemingly of God, that's what I choose to believe, that just lived life and let others be. I heard a couple horns honk and I remember some kids were screaming. ''Too noisy here,'' I thought.
  I glanced over my shoulder and noticed a lovely wooded area behind me. ''I'll probably be able to concentrate better in there.''
  I headed into the woods and journeyed deep. I saw little sunshine, only trees and some bugs. No snakes, thank goodness. Ugly and slimy little critters. I saw a sight I really did not care to see. I saw Boris emerge from the pine shrubbery. He tackled me. ''Hey fag,'' he mocked. I was not gay nor have I ever been but the year was 1973 and the people where I grew up thought of writing poetry as a girly activity. ''Leave me alone, neanderthal,'' I groaned. ''And besides, you're the one lying on top of me.''
  He narrowed his already small, weird slanted eyes and glowered at me. ''Shut up, queer,'' Boris said, punching me in the right rib. ''Fuck you,'' I spit.
  He started pummeling me, in my arms, and belly and I covered my face and he continued working the body. Is this the christian thing to do?'' I thought. ''Just turn the other cheek and do nothing?''
  I saw a rock about the size of a softball. I picked it up and nailed Boris in the shoulder. ''Humph,'' he said.
  He hit the ground and made a solid thud. He was much larger than I was. At least taller, I was thicker in the torso and arms and legs. I climbed on top of the bully and began choking him. ''Don't kill him,'' I thought. ''it's a sin and it's illegal.''
  His eyes bulged and his tongue thrust out of his mouth like he was a cartoon wolf. I started punching him in the ribs and tried hitting his face but he blocked that. Now I grabbed his shaggy blonde hair and starting pounding his head against the ground. ''Leave me alone,'' I screamed. ''I'll kill you, do you hear me?''
  ''I'm sorry,''Boris said, his lips quivered. ''Stop hurting me, please?''
  I clutched his hair, ready to slam his head back in the ground. ''What have I become?'' I thought. ''Shall I show him the mercy he never showed me?''
  I looked in his eyes. They were still slits but I saw remorse, I had never seen that in those eyes before. ''I put the devil back to sleep inside Boris.'' I thought. ''Will you leave my friend, Matt alone too?'' I asked.
  ''Of course,'' Boris nodded.
  I let him back up. My arms were bruised, so was my belly but he was bruised too and his lip was bloody and he had a knot on the back of his head. The devil in me was drowsy but he was unsure whether to sleep or to awaken. I wanted to grab him by his neck and force him back to the ground. I wanted to hear him cry and scream and beg for mercy. Is the devil falling back to sleep in me, or is he waking up in the form of vengeance?
  

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