It was a perfect summer day. He looked outside: indeed, it was perfect. The warm feeling of sun rays on his skin, innocent whiteness of clouds, singing birds, even children playing in the streets – everything told him that this is the true peace, and nothing can change that.
Wind flew through the opened window. “soon it will be over” – it whispered in his ear. Wind knew the truth. And so did he. The day will soon be over, and without daylight his nightmare will continue.
Still, the truth is not always what a man seeks. He shut a window completely, banishing this illusion of peace.
His life turned into hell two months ago. It started from a wild thing – actually, it was so ridiculous that he could laugh about it now.
He was at some party. He vaguely remembered the details, and that’s quite understandable – he was utterly drunk. What he does remember is his visit to the fortune teller afterwards. She told him about some curse and his imminent doom. Of course, at that time he thought it was some crazy bullshit. That’s what a normal person would have thought, too. What a normal person WOULD NOT do is beating the hell out of the fortune teller. She screamed, she cried, she cursed. He did not care at that point. Drunk men either care too much or don’t care at all, and he was of the second sort.
The next day he was more scared of lawsuit than of some curse. Now he looked at this as at the perfect irony of fate. His reaction to his future actually led him to it.
The night is dark and full of terrors. He discovered this truth soon afterwards. It began from scratching: sometimes scratches were just inside his head, sometimes they came from the outside. At first he looked for intruders, but there wasn’t anyone there. Scratching and whispering did not let him sleep at night, and even during the day when he closed his eyes and tried to embrace the dream realm, It came to him. In the real world It whispered. In his slumber It shouted.
He began to notice It. It was always there, searching, watching, waiting. With every night It got closer to him. Two weeks ago It started to appear inside his house.
He was ashamed of it, but he had to admit it now – he was a coward. He hid under the blankets like a little boy. He listened to the footsteps. And the screeching. Oh, the screeching was always there now, and it drove him mad.
Evening glow has stopped. What a horrible night to have a curse, he thought, but at the same time he was glad. He was glad in spite of his heart pounding like crazy.
Door knob to his room slowly started turning. He froze, unable to do anything. The door opened, It stood before him.
It took the form of a man in a dark grey cloak, but the first thing he saw was actually Its mask. Devil mask. Laughing, screeching, torturing him with just its presence. And those eyes. Cold, evil golden eyes.
It was the end.
- Do you know why I am here? – It asked.
- Yes. Please make it quick, I d-don’t want to suffer any more.
- You know, it does not have to end like this. I have powerful… Benefactors. All you have to do is…
- NO! I WON’T SELL MY SOUL TO YOU, DEMON! – he shouted with his last strength of spirit.
It laughed. It laughed for a while, but Its eyes remained cold.
- Well, that’s a pity. But in this case you know what I have to do next.
It pulled Its knife and strike a blow on his belly. He fell on the floor. It moved closer to him and took off Its mask. He did not believe what he saw. He knew that man. IT COULD NOT BE HIM. THAT THING IS A DEMON, NOT HIS FRIEND.
It drugged him, and he could not move. Blood was slowly flowing out – the wound was not all tat deep.
It said:
- Dać wieczne odpoczywanie.
And then it left.
Soon the air was full of smoke. Fire crawled towards him, and finally it had consumed him.
He never experienced that kind of pain before.
But that did not matter to Raul.
He was free.

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I left a note to policemen not far from the house. It was another poem. That kind of things is stupid considering my job, but I can’t resist playing with these men.
I don’t enjoy killing, but in this case it really had to be done, that man was a freaking psychopath and could have ruined my plans.

GOD BLESS ‘MURICA.

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Morale of the story: sometimes you think that demons stalk you for your sins, but actually they are American spies on a rampage.