by YD La Mar
The reaping goes by faster than I would like. My agitation increases from my thoughts of the human female who continues to humiliate me.
I flash to the front of her building of duties. What does she do here? Does she tease males the likes of this Josh? A building this big must hold more than one male. My mind is becoming consumed with an emotion I cannot name.
Reese should not be giving her attention to anyone but me. ME! I am her Bear, am I not? What has changed her so? Why does she spurn me?
Is it this building then? Does this take her from me? There is nothing in her place of residence, so it must be this blasted building of males!
My mind runs through the possibilities of what chaos I can bring. My scythe feels heavy in my hands, and my chest starts to rise and fall from my fury.
My mind lost in its haze, overlooking the sprites that have overrun the building inside and out. I care not for the havoc they wreak. My mind can only see Reese and her standing next to that blasted Josh. And who knows what other males who come and go through these doors.
A lesser demon of chaos emerges in front of me and runs into the building, straight through the walls. My mind is churning, it’s in a state of confusion and hurt and anger. What is this emotion? Why do I feel these things? It must be that damn demon I devoured, adding to the curses already burdened on me.
I need to stop devouring the workers. Who knows what else they will curse me with. I never had to deal with these human emotions and now I regret ever being given a taste.
A taste.
The taste of Reese’s lips still lingers on my mouth and it angers me that she..that she...rejects me.
The ache I feel in my body is now a result of the expansion of my being. My eyes are level with the top-most floor of what these humans call a thirty-story building. I swing my scythe back and bring it down in a wide arc that goes straight through the entire thing before me, and my eyes burn with exuberance as I watch the building fall to its knees before me.
REESE
I’m shook.
I’m speechless.
What the hell is happening right now?
After the ground finishes shaking from the demolition of my work building, I straighten my knees and clutch my bag closer to my body tightly for some sort of comfort.
I-I-I think I might be out of a job. My feet take a few tentative steps forward before I just freeze in place. What is the point of going there? No one can survive that.
A cool breeze moves my hair as I look to the left and right of me. All I see are other civilians and bystanders standing like I am, watching in shock at the destruction before us. Those who are closer are stumbling and scattering for the damn hills like roaches with the light on so they don’t become casualties from the destruction. This is the most bizarre freak accident.
After what feels like fifteen minutes of just staring, watching the dust settle, and reevaluating my life choices, I turn around and slowly start walking home, mindlessly. People are still standing around all over the street with their hands over their mouths or their chests like they’re frozen in time.
My feet are moving on their own. Muscle memory. My mind is going through what I need to do now in order to keep my apartment. I need a job. Do I still put this personal assistant job on my resume? Who the hell are they going to call for a reference check? My god. This is complicated. The cell phone in my bag feels heavy or is that my consciousness. I’m the only one left from that building, but I still need to live. What kind of jobs do I qualify for? My head feels like it’s full of cotton. Sounds are muffled as I continue to walk on.
I make it to my apartment and I don’t even know how. My spirits are lifted when I step through the front door and Quasi is there. Running into side tables, couch pillows, and walls before he makes it to me. His raptor head is constantly lifting, seeking my chin. What a nice way to be welcomed home after everything that’s happened today. Despite his horrible coordination, Quasi is smart enough to scratch at my legs with only his knuckles rather than his razor-sharp claws.
I had bought a nylon chewy toy for him on the way to work this morning. It was small enough to keep in my bag. Grabbing it, I throw it towards the far wall near my bat and watch as Quasi topples over backward, trying to change direction. I laugh a little as he makes it to the bone toy and bites into nothingness. He scratches the ground beneath it, his claws going through the bone. I forget he’s a demon pup. He’s probably not really corporeal, is he? How can I feel him then? None of this makes any damn sense, but such is my life. It never made any damn sense. Well, at least he’ll be entertained for a while.
The sound of scratching continues as Quasi’s paws continue to go through the bone at every attempt, but it doesn’t stop his enthusiasm whatsoever.
Dropping my bag on the kitchen counter, I grab a glass from my cabinet and pour myself some filtered water from the pitcher inside the refrigerator. After a big cold drink, I lean back on my kitchen table and rub the chilled glass against my forehead. What a mess this day has been.
What if I wasn’t at the coffee shop at the right time? What if I became one of the victims in the building? That would have probably put an end to my miserable life. But who would take care of Quasi?
I walk out of the kitchen to sit on my comfy and well-worn couch and turn my head around to look at the pup in question. He’s still scratching on the floor and is now jumping on it, like it will make a difference.
Straightening my head and drinking a few more sips of water, I hear a whisper in the air. What is with that? My thoughts bring me to the moment I decided to get coffee at the local coffee shop instead of in the employee lounge. My god, that means Josh was in there, doesn’t it? That doesn’t sadden me as much as it should. How sad am I supposed to be? I never really got to know anyone there well. I basically just went to work, said my hellos and goodbyes, and that was it. In essence, everyone in that building was just an acquaintance.
I blink a few times. This is a sad and very sobering thought.
Going back into the kitchen to grab the phone out of my bag, I sit my butt back on the couch and start browsing for new work. I might as well get a head start. No rest for the weary and all that. The sound of jumping, scratching, and a little bit of banging on the wall lulls me into a zone as I start browsing job listings on the popular sites. My thumb swiping the smooth screen and swiping some more.
A lot of these jobs require a college degree, which, thanks to Daddy, I do not have. It seems I’m sighing every five minutes as I continue to scroll through job listing after job listing as well as job site after job site.
One job ad grabs my attention. It’s a personal listing for an in-home caregiver. No college degree required. Leaning forward to place my cup on the coffee table, I make sure to thoroughly read the ad again. Well now, this looks promising. I took care of Daddy for a long time after Mama left. I can do this. Shouldn’t be that hard, right?
Filling out the online application on a little cell phone is tedious, but I did it. The moment my finger hits submit, I let out a sigh of relief. All is not lost, and the day is starting to look up.
Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and let myself relax to the sound of Quasi trying to get to his bone.
BEHERAA
I laugh as a plan formulates in my mind. Grabbing the closest sprite by the neck, I shake it with glee, my teeth close to his face. He flinches, most likely believing I’m on another devouring rampage when, in reality, it’s not far from the truth.
But instead of the demons of this realm, I think I may have found the solution to my Reese problem.
I need to consume the flesh of those I reap before the soul is entirely removed in order to make myself corporeal enough so that I may finally bring Reese back to me. This has been the problem. This! All the times we’ve spent together has been during her dream state. She must have been having out-of-body experiences in order to find me here.
But I can no longer wait for her to come to me. I must go to her. I need
to show her the wrongs of her ways. She will be able to give me her apologies and all will be right again. The perfect solution.
Amoora and Araaz have not reported much to me besides the fact that Reese has found another place of work since I incidentally put her previous work location out of business for the foreseeable future. I regret nothing. In fact, just the knowledge that the male known as Josh is now out of existence excites my very being. I crave more bloodshed and this is good, for I need flesh to consume. What better way than to just consume the flesh of those who are already scheduled to leave the human realm? Everything will remain in balance.
I rub my hands together and laugh to the heavens. The flames of my realm grow in mirth as the lesser demons corral the sprites away from my chambers.
Yes. This is the way. This is the only way.
A war has broken out in the desert lands again. The number of casualties here are insurmountable and continuous. Since the beginning of my existence, the wars in the middle east have never died down, no. But this serves my purpose perfectly well.
My scythe starts to pull their souls as I grab their bodies closer to me, opening my jaws. The flames that dance behind my eyes invigorate me as my vision zones in on all the bodies that lay before me. Flesh that would have been left to rot and decay are now made more useful by my consummation. With all the wars these humans create, no one would be the wiser with my change in tactics.
I find that I revel in consuming them in pieces as eating them in their entirety is unnecessary. It is expected with situations like these to find missing limbs among the debris of blown structures and turned over human vehicles.
A localized contention between families of power flashes me to the other side of the world by the waters in the middle of a metropolis, and their bloodshed fuels me. These human creatures and their hate. They breed diseases and cancers of violence and destruction. I embrace it all as I come closer and closer to my goal.
Despite the natural disasters, wars, famine, death, and destruction in my wake, I find that I continue to hunger for more. This isn’t enough, it’s never enough. I feel my time cutting close. What if Reese forgets me and spurns me for all eternity? I need more souls; I need more bodies!
Opening the portal that separates the two realms, I unleash my demons and minions onto the human plane and task them to amplify the chaos around us. More mayhem and death are required. I need more humans to become infected in chaos and hate for more flesh and souls.
The lesser demons invoke and exploit the spirits of lust, jealousy, temptation, and whatever other vices and madness the humans have within them. Brother on brother. Families against families. The cycle of violence and murder. All will fall under the chaos of needs and wants, overtaking their minds in a blood lust of their own.
The sprites whisper into their ears and create havoc and depredation among the innocent bystanders as they watch the world around them lay to waste.
My body aches with its growth and expansion as I bring my scythe back and swing it down on a wide arch towards the earth beneath me. All will know my wake, all will meet their day and bow before me.
REESE
I’ve been performing this caregiver job for about two years now. I’m finally getting into the groove. I thought it was going to be easy, but little did I know how cantankerous my client would be.
Mister Clyde Jones is a grumpy old African American veteran who used to be an engineman in The Navy. I’ve come to learn that they hang out on the bottom of the ship, near the majority of the heat in the engine room. Big diesel engines that are constantly operating. He stayed in for twenty-five years, coming back home to the states and then decided that retirement was not for him so he continued working as a general mechanic in a suburban town.
He didn’t last since his cantankerous personality followed him there, too. He ended up retiring again after five years of being a mechanic.
How the old coot managed to get married and have a child, I have no clue. He became widowed after his wife died of pneumonia sometime after his son’s eighth birthday. I met his son, Isaac, on the day of my interview and every day after that. Mister Clyde is now in his early eighties and is just as cynical and grumpy as Isaac remembers growing up, or so he tells me. Isaac, despite being forty, looks good for his age.
Standing at about 6 feet tall, Isaac is quite the gentleman. He even keeps a smile on his face when his dad is cussing up a storm about how his ass hurts and needs to be turned.
Today is just one of those days. Mister Clyde is just a little bit extra.
“Reese’s pieces girl! I need a sponge bath. Come on then! Hop to it, I don’t have fucking all day!” I give him a side-eye and smile. I swear he calls me that to rile me up. When I had first introduced myself to Isaac, the old man must have been eavesdropping from his hospital bed because the next thing you know, I hear him yell, “Reese’s pieces!”
It’s been my nickname from him ever since.
“Actually, you do. That’s why I’m here...basically all day.” I turn on his television to keep him occupied while I ready the supplies for his bed bath. I really don’t mind it. This gig pays much better than my last job. I tried to talk Isaac down because I felt bad for him paying me thirty dollars an hour. His explanation? No one ever lasts over a week with his father’s attitude. I can see why.
I guess some things in life prepare you for the road you’re meant to be on because here I am, two years later. Who would have thought a twenty-seven-year-old without a college degree would be making this much just putting up with an old coot? He’s all bark and no bite anyway.
“Quit talking back, girl! I smell like something funky. I can’t stand the smell of myself! Come on now! Don’t leave an old man hanging out in his own swamp, my balls are stickin’.”
The recent attacks in New York have been labeled the work of domestic terrorism. More to come at six.
The news has been nothing but death and destruction. In the middle east, in the major cities and metropolitan areas. This is why I don’t listen to the news. It’s such a debbie downer. Death is a part of life, but hearing about mass casualties doesn’t lift anyone’s spirits up.
Rise in the newly labeled “madness” pandemic can be seen around cities. The source of the infection is still unknown at this point in time.
If it’s not people killing people, it’s things that make us go crazy and want to kill each other to help put people out of their misery. My goodness, what is the world coming to?
“Doggonit, Reese’s pieces! My ass is starting to wrinkle!”
I laugh out loud because this man is just nuts. The stuff that comes out of his mouth entertains me most days. Speaking of nuts, his nuts are probably sticking to his thighs, that’s the real problem. Little things like that make him yell crazy shit.
After giving Mister Clyde his requested sponge bath, giving him a new gown, and feeding him a sandwich, his son comes into the house to relieve me of my duties for the day.
The times Isaac comes home varies. I don’t know what he does and I don’t care to ask. I just do my job and go home, compliments of Isaac driving me home and driving me back to work the very next day. You’d think I’d get better at socializing with how long I’ve been with them, but no, I’m still me.
Their home is located in the quiet suburbs, about 10 miles from my apartment. The kind of neighborhood you see on TV shows, where they all look the same like cookie-cutter homes. Isaac was so desperate for a caregiver, he offered to give me a ride to my own interview before I could even mention that I didn’t own a car.
The house is beautiful for having two men live here. They must have a maid, there’s no other way it would be possible. It smells too clean. It’s a quaint two-story home with four bedrooms and 3 bathrooms. Mister Clyde used to reside upstairs until his health took a turn. Lucky for him, there are rooms as well as restrooms downstairs for his convenience. I was informed that he used to move around with a walker pretty independently but an unexpected fall the past f
ew years has confined him to his hospital bed now which sours his already sour mood.
“Thank you so much again, Reese. I mean it. Even I can’t stand his ass sometimes and he’s my father.” I chuckle under my breath because if old man Clyde heard me laugh, he’d give me hell tomorrow. I just know it.
Isaac and I walk side by side as we pass his beautifully manicured lawn, the smell of freshly cut grass wafting in the air, and down the driveway towards his black SUV. He even opens doors. How nice is that? Once we’re buckled up, the engine turns on with a soft hum. The leather seats are the most comfortable and softest things I’ve ever sat on. I’ve never been in anything as nice as this vehicle. Daddy always drove a beat-up pickup truck growing up. But it’s also not like Daddy took me many places the older I got...the only place he took me was in my bedroom.
These thoughts bring down my mood and I blank out my mind. I wonder how Quasi’s doing? I miss the little pup. I wonder if I bring him to work if anyone would notice? As long as he doesn’t cause too much mischief. Thinking about it again, I decide against it. He’d probably get all tangled up in Mister Clyde’s oxygen hose and kill him accidentally or something. That would just be my luck, wouldn't it?
