The Demon Head
I do not know if this asylum that I find myself at is actually hell and the imprisonment of my soul, but I know for a certainty that there is an evil that embodies its unholy nature. It is an evil that is not adverse to the sins or the madness of man.
Mad some would say I am, but I am only the crude reflection of a mortal that lives in the shadows of my fears and the eeriness of my seclusion. Death taunts me at every corner, for it is merciless and unrelenting in its pursuit. There is a terror that haunts me daily, and its indelible face I cannot efface. I dare not utter the madness that it encompasses. I prefer to remain in my silence and allow that madness to consume me from within for my disportment.
This is perhaps the admission of a madman, but the horrible demon head that terrorizes me, is indeed no hallucination. I cannot forget the inscrutable image of that sadistic grin, horrendous laughter and those malevolent eyes piercing into my own. How it has found me I do not know, except that it has in every place, in every occasion. The years that have since passed, are the troubling signs of my waning mental faculties.
The story that you will read, is one that is composed of the truth and is consistent with my revelation. You can choose to believe me or choose to think me mad. There are moments in life, when the appearance of fiction will supersede the notion of reality. When that fiction manifests as reality, then there is no distinction that could differentiate one from the other.
Nightmares are constant in the mind, for they cannot be placated. Unreasonable thoughts are forever present deep within our active consciousness. Who could ever know, when the ineffable nightmares cease, or when our consciousness makes that sudden realization? The shade of the unnameable has no color, except darkness.
It is that darkness that occupies our fears and causes us to succumb to its cruelty. I did not request its presence. I merely met it in person. Thus, it has condemned me to the four walls of this asylum, yet it cannot save me from its insidious horror. The only thing that I can offer the reader is the experience I had experimented, ever since that first day, I came in contact with the demon head.
I recall, it was the year of 1919, when I had traveled to the remote rain forest of Brazil. There, I was to search for the elusive pygmies of South America. My name is Jethro Miller, and I am an American. I was an anthropologist and had been to different parts of the world, making new discoveries in the name of science.
I had heard about the pygmies and was eager to see them in person. I had previously been in Australia, studying the lives of the Aborigines and in Mexico, the Mayas. Exotic cultures were my speciality. If I had located the pygmies and examined them thoroughly, it would have allowed the advancement of primitive cultures. I had never been to Brazil, and I was expecting to be assisted in my endeavor by the locals. I had been in close correspondence with a fellow anthropologist by the name of Adriano Souza, who was to be my guide there.
He had mentioned to me before that he knew about an actual village, where I could find the pygmies. Unfortunately, that would be overshadowed by the horrible discovery of the demon head. Once I had arrived there, I was then met by Professor Souza, who had accompanied me to his home in Manaus. After the welcome, we had conversed at length, about the trip and the village of the pygmies that was deep within the rain forest. The thought that we could locate them was very encouraging.
The pygmies were not accustomed to interactions with the outside world. They were tribal people that had adhered to their customs and way of living. Their introduction to anthropology was worth the adventure. I had thanked the professor for his diligence and desire to help me. I would have not been able to achieve my task, without his assistance. The night was spent resting, in a bed of the room that I was offered. My trip on the plane was very long and weary.
Upon my trip I had pondered about many things, including the possibility of returning, without any discovery at all. I was not guaranteed of anything in Brazil. There was this gut feeling inside me that I would uncover something that was waiting to be revealed.
The next morning, I awoke anxious to embark on our journey to locate the pygmies. Professor Souza was apprised by one of his close acquaintances, where to find them. It was not going to be a facile task, considering the thickness and vastidity of the forest and its many challenges, but we were fortunate to have found them. The pygmies were reclusive and private people. They had preserved their customs and manner of life for centuries, hidden from the temptations of modern civilization.
To describe them was not difficult, since they had reflected the appearances of pygmies. They were short in stature, dark skinned and wore little garments. They had a peculiar sentience that allowed them to detect the strongest scent from the most charming scent.
Perhaps, it was our cologne that they had distinguished, since our arrival. They were numerous plants, flowers and vegetation in the forest that they knew well. I had noticed that they were indeed primitive people that had not advanced in decades. Professor Souza was my interpreter, for he spoke the local tongue of the pygmies, aside from his paternal tongue of Portuguese. There were so many questions I had to ask, but little time allocated to me. There was peril all around us, in the form of the wild animals of the rain forest.
We were aware of the fact that in the forest there were jaguars, eagles, snakes, spiders, crocodiles among others. We could not afford to dismiss the risk and be so casual in our conduct. We had spent in total 4 hours with the pygmies, integrating ourselves with their culture and society.
They were, at first, reluctant to interact with us together, until they had felt comfortable enough to accept us. Once they did, they had demonstrated, a very amiable and respectful regard for us. We shared gifts among us and had offered to help them with medicines and items that they would possibly have a use for.
It was not our position or intent to change their way of living. Our intention was to know more about them in every aspect of their culture. The pygmies were not only primitive people, but they were also deeply superstitious. They were afraid of the supernatural ones that had transformed into evil beings.
This is where the unthinkable nightmare of the demon head all began. It was this particular visit that I first was introduced to the legend of the demon head. I had been standing next to a tree, when I had noticed a strange thing that was hanging from it. It was tied by a rope covered in some substance. I had no initial clue to what it could have been in form.
All that I could discern was that it was a small figure of a creaturelike being that I had never seen before. As I had approached to have a better look, I was told to not advance further, by Professor Souza. When I inquired about his reason, he had told me that it was considered an evil being by the pygmies. I had insisted in knowing why. He could only affirm that it was considered a bad omen.
I asked him the name of the evil one incarnate and he then uttered, a cabeça satânica, the demon head. It was the first time I had heard of that name and demon. I was not a man of superstition, but I had encountered such figures, throughout my travels abroad. Professor Souza had explained in vague details, about the presage that would befall to the person that released the demon head.
He had mentioned that the only way to be rid of their queer curse, was through a particular novena or exorcise. I could see the seriousness in his eyes, and the pygmies were very serious as well in advising me to avoid it. They had captured the evil one and had kept it imprisoned, making it unable to terrorize anyone. It did not move and had resembled more of a carved doll, but its beady and devilish eyes were enough to spook one into a sudden apprehension.
Whatever it was in nature and in essence, it was chilling and mesmerizing. I don't know what it was about the peculiar eyes. It had begun to hypnotize me. The hour had come to depart the village of the pygmies, and we did, but there was something in me that had compelled me to snatch the doll figure and I did. I committed the worse act of my life upon that day.
When we had left the village, I did not inform the professor about snatching the doll, and no one from among the pygmies had seen me take it neither. I knew that I had done wrong, but I never could imagine in all my wildest nightmares, the terrible consequence of my mistake.
I had wrapped it in a thick cloth. Even now horrified by the demon head, I can acknowledge the debility of my human nature. It was my damnable curiosity that had forsaken me to the imprecation of my haunting persecutor. I would never meet a certain foe that was as persistent and horripilating, as the demon head. If I was to define evil in its purest and cruelest form, then I would make the asseveration that I had met it in person unwillingly.
Once again, you make think I am mad, but I speak only the veracity of my account. If I was mad, then how could I be able to continue the narrative, with such precision and details? Madness is the sole precursor to an interminable continuation of episodes of dread.
Back at Manaus, Professor Souza had suggested that we chronicled everything that we had witnessed and interacted with the pygmies. He was cognizant of the fact that publishing in the newspapers our discovery of the pygmies would bring us instant recognition, but he wanted to not take advantage of the pygmies and wanted to maintain their isolation, so that no outsiders could disturb them.
As an anthropologist, I was in concurrence with his observation. It was not a secret we were keeping, but the preservation of an ancient race of people. The ramifications of our actions would be recorded in the annals of history. After that night, the pygmies would no longer be on my mind. I would be forced to confront a surreptitious horror that would forever alter my life. Yes, the demon head would begin its inescapable reign of terror against me. I would resist its powerful spell over me, but it would be futile. Its incessant torment was unmatched to anything that I had ever descried.
In the privacy of my room at the house of Professor Souza, I had unwrapped the demon head doll to examine it with a meticulous eye. As with the village of the pygmies, it did not move. It merely had stared at me wickedly. In the depth of my mind at that moment, I did not comprehend why it was considered evil, except for the menacing guise it had reflected. I had then wrapped it and placed it in a box that was headed back home to the States.
The next time that I would see the guise of the demon head would be at my home. For the rest of that night, I had spent in the presence of Professor Souza. He had invited me to see the town of Manaus, and I had accepted his cordial invitation. The rain forest had impressed me, during our stay there. It was a beauty to see its remarkable nature and its wildlife too. Brazil was a vast and emerging country in South America. I had only seen a small portion of its sheer size. It would be the last time I would ever be in Brazil.
Within a week, I was back home in the soothing solace of the forest that I had lived nearby. I was glad and grateful to have returned, sensing that I had achieved effectively what I had intended to seek. The irony of that statement would later haunt me so boldly.
After awakening the evil soul of the demon head, I would not recover the gaiety of my life again. Professor Souza would go on to receive acclamation for his deserving work with the pygmies, and I would be forgotten by history, as a footnote. I would not forget the unusual experience with the pygmies.
What I wanted to forget was the demon head that I had brought. No one seeks danger by volition— danger follows the steps of its seeker. Some say the weaker the mind is, the susceptible is the human soul. How far does the mind traverse, before it yields to the eventuality of insanity?
Perchance, I will never know that answer. I can only offer myself, as an example of a mind assumed non compos mentis. I had lived by myself, but I had common friends and relatives visit me often in my days of leisure. I had a normal life, if one can equate normalcy to one's life.
On one special occasion, I had invited several friends over for a night. Life of anthropology had mostly consumed my time in research and discoveries. It gave me little time, for the company of others in social gatherings. I was never the person to regret much about the things in my life, yet I sorely regretted inviting these friends to my home upon that fatal night. It was around eleven o'clock, when I was becoming fatigued. I had decided to excuse myself from my friends and had taken a nap. I had invited them to stay the night, if they so desired. It was to be the last time that I would see them all alive.
What I would discover would be utterly shocking and disturbing in revelation. My world would never be the same, and the evil that I had brought with me from Brazil would awaken to murder them. The consequence that would result would place me, as the prime suspect.
In the morning, I woke to find my friends lying dead on the floor, dripping with profuse blood. The image had not only startled me but also unnerved me. It had also implicated me in the circumstances of evidence. I was speechless, for I could not believe what my eyes had witnessed.
Immediately, I sought to investigate the cause and reason for their murders. Who had killed them and how did it occur? There were so many thoughts running in my head. There were no actual marks, with the exception of the visible marks around their necks. I had become extremely nervous and could not think clearly. I searched everywhere inside and outside the house for the culprit or any particular evidence that would solve the mystery of their deaths, but I could not find anything that was significant. I had called the police, and they came over to commence their investigation.
I had explained to them my whereabouts and the events that took place at the house, before their murders. They had taken my testimony and had gathered pieces of evidence and clues they could use to solve the mystery at the crime scene. After they had left and taken the bodies to the morgue, I was asked to spend the night elsewhere. I had complied, but before I had left the house I had noticed that the demon head was gone.
Someone had taken it unbeknown to me. That had seemed to be the case. Had someone uninvited entered my home and for some apparent reason had decided to murder my friends? My question was for what reason? Was it a thief or a pair of thieves that were the culprits?
Nothing had made any sense to me. Why did they not murder me then, since they could have easily have taken my life as well? That was puzzling to me. My immediate concern was that I would be implicated in the murders, if no one else was charged. I would not need to wait long for my answers, nor to find the lost demon head.
You see, the demon head would find me. When it did, it was no longer the dormant figure that had spooked me, from just its mere appearance. It was then fully alive. I had unleashed the terror that Professor Souza and the pygmies had warned me against.
I was at a home that had belonged to a friend that was away at the time. I was pacing anxiously in the living room during that night, when suddenly I had heard the giggling sound and murmuring breath of someone approaching. At first, I did not react, or did I perceive the stranger. It was when I had heard a glass fall from the kitchen and shatter into pieces that I finally reacted. The television was on, and I had to lower the volume in order to listen more carefully.
As I got closer to the kitchen and then had entered, I did not see any intruder inside present. The only thing that was transparent and noticeable to me was the fallen broken shards of glass. This had bemused me and at the same time rattle me. I knew at that moment that someone indeed was in the house. I did not know who. I had cautiously searched through the kitchen, then the rest of the house.
When I had failed to discover any real sign of an intruder, I returned to the kitchen. It was there that I had encountered face to face, the demon head. It was standing before me upon the floor alive. As I stared into the diabolical eyes of the doll figure, it had begun to grin then laugh hysterically. It was attempting to taunt and haunt me. It began to utter my name. I don't know how it knew my name, but it did somehow. How could this be happening?
For a moment, I had thought I was going insane or worse hallucinating. When I had tried to step on it, it rolled to the side. When I had tried to grab it, it had jumped onto the counter. The creature was very agile and astute in its abilities. In every instance, it had simply outmaneuvered or outflanked me.
Its tiny feet were more rapid than mine, and its cleverness had allowed it to escape my clutch. I had picked up a dish and had thrown it at it, but the demon head avoided it. It then had hidden in the cupboard. When I had opened it the demon head lashed out at me, by jumping onto my neck and biting onto to it. Although it was small in size, the demon head was strong. I could feel its impulsive strength, as I had struggled with it.
In a matter of minutes, it had disappeared. Where you ask? It had left for another room inside the house. I followed it around the house, hoping to capture or destroy it. The initial fear I had, had transformed into consternation. I had entered the living room and there on the television was the demon head, piercing into my eyes with his devilish look and laughter.
I had grabbed the broom to take a swipe at it, and it had jumped onto the curtains, avoiding my blow. Once more, it had jumped onto my neck to bite even harder. I was able to thwart the bite and throw off the attacker from my neck. What had started out as a struggle had become, a battle of audacity and astuteness.
It was my will against the demon head's will. It had scurried onto the kitchen again. Back and forth the fight had developed. I knew that I could not afford to let the demon head defeat me nor permit it to flee. Once inside the kitchen I had grabbed the broom. I had anticipated that it would try to surprise me. I was standing next to the refrigerator, when the demon head had jumped onto my next again.
Each time it was on my neck, it had attempted to bite me with a fierce aggression, but I thwarted off its wild attack as I had done previously. It was impossible to know, where it was at every moment. I could only guess, and that supposition of mine was at best, only helpful when I could see it in front of me. It had scurried again.
After I had searched through the entire house, I could not locate the demon head. Where did it escape to? The front door had been opened, and I had surmised that it had left the house, but where to? The forest was ample and difficult at night to spot anything that was tangible. It was vast and endless.
Still, I had searched the forest for the demon head. I had looked and looked around, yet to no avail. It had vanished somewhere, where I could not find it. It had come for me I had sensed. Nothing was as evil nor as cunning, as the demon head.
The commotion in the house and outside of the house had stirred one of the neighbors to call the police. Soon, I would be visited at the house of my friend by them. One of the officers had informed me about the complaint and had questioned me. They had seen how paranoid and unsettling I had appeared.
This would intrigue them and make them inquire about my state of mind. I would be asked to accompany them at the police station, where the questions had continued. I was asked all sort of questions, but the one thing that the police were interested was, what had happened back at my friend's house.
Why was I screaming and acting in an erratic behavior? I had composed myself, before I could respond. I was aware that if I had given them a thorough explanation of the events or the truth, they would have simply thought I was going crazy.
Perhaps I was going mad, and I had only conjured the demon head and what had transpired at the house. Nonetheless, I could not tell them the truth. I had to invent a lie, and I had told them that an animal had entered the house and had tried to attack me. Even though it was plausible, it was not convincing to the officers.
Afterwards, I was free of my own volition to leave the police station. I had insurmountable guilt inside of me, for I could not reveal the truth to the police. My actions were causing suspicion, and the police were gradually starting to wonder, if I was not the murderer of my friends.
This would not go unnoticed by me. I had decided that I would stay the night, at a hotel that was just around the corner from my house. Unbeknown to me, the police had been watching my every step and had been monitoring my whereabouts, after my departure from the police station. Inside my room of the hotel, I had remembered what was told to me about the curse of the demon head.
I was too far away from Brazil, but I had thought about Professor Souza and the pygmies. The other thought I had that was increasing by the second was how could I be rid of the demon head? I had even tried to convince myself that it was better that I left the area for the time being. That would only make me look guilty to the police.
I made the conscious decision to remain in the area. It would be a foolish decision on my part that I would regret. The anxiety had changed to fear again. Would the demon head finally murder me? Would the police find any vital clues and evidence linking me to the murders? Had I been going insane?
I had taken a glass of wine and had attempted to calm my nerves. I was under tremendous pressure to do something. I had put on the television to distract myself. I knew that the demon head was coming for me that night. I had no protection, except a fork that I had close to the table. The moments grew intense by the passing minute. I began to bite on my nails, as I became more restless. I had paced back and forth in the room, but this only increased my anxiety. I could not let the demon head control me with fear nor apprehension.
I had to be steady in my mind and with my body, even though my hands were shaking uncontrollably. I had sat down for a brief moment. It was enough to allow the demon head to jump onto my neck. I wrestled with it, until I had at last, punctured a hole in its right eye. Its eyeball came out of its socket suddenly.
This would not deter the demon head. It merely picked up the eye and had placed it back into the socket. I was astonished by this occurrence but frightened at the same time. I chased around the room, as it laughed at me. I had made so much noise that someone from the hotel personal had knocked on my door. I answered the door, as I was sweating profoundly. The gentleman that was knocking had seen this image on my face. He had asked me, if I was all right. I told him that nothing was wrong with me.
Again, I could not reveal the truth about the presence of the demon head. I was stuck in a quandary that I could not get out of so easily. I was confronted, with the demon head and the police. How long would I be able to endure this inscrutable madness? After the gentleman left and I had closed the door, I searched for the demon head. It was gone. I was so tired then that I feel asleep.
When I awoke in the morning, I heard a knock on the front door of my room at the hotel. It was the police; they had come to arrest me for the murders of my friends. They had discovered supposedly, new evidence that implicated me. It was circumstantial evidence. The evidence was never disclosed to me.
Back at the police station I had been questioned. This time the questioning was more aggressive in nature. They wanted me to confess and needed a confession from me. I was emotionally and mentally drained from the struggles with the demon head that I finally confessed to them, what I had been concealing, the existence of this demonic being.
Yes, it was foolish of me to make such disclosure, yet I had no other choice I felt. My candid admission would seal my fate and send me to the solitary walls of an asylum. I would tell them everything that had occurred with the demon head, including every minute detail.
I did not expect the police officers to believe me, and I had known instinctively that I was their main suspect. Once I had divulged the truth, I was not believed by them. They had rejected my claim and had wanted me to tell them the reason that I had killed my friends.
I did not change my version, or did I add anything more than the actual truth. Unfortunately, for me, I was discredited and taken for a madman. There was nothing else that I could do, or provide them with more details that had corroborated the facts.
All I could do on my behalf was notify them that the demon head was coming for me and it had to be destroyed. I was strapped to a straitjacket and the drear darkness of these walls that presently hold me. I would never see, beyond the flickering lights of the asylum that imprisons me. I know that the demon head is still there somewhere, waiting to kill me. It is not a question of if, but when? It is too clever to be deterred, by these four, thick walls that isolate me. Now that you have heard this account of mine, do you, still regard me as mad?
If the narration I present to you has not dissuaded you of that possibility, then know that you have condemned me to the guilt of the crime that I have been accused of committing. Will you not have pity on my demonstrative state of paranoia? I am but a poor lost soul that has been wrongfully and unlawfully accused. Has my story about the demon head not convinced you? What more do you require to actually believe me? Has my harrowing experience not been enough?
Then I will tell you one last admission that I have failed to reveal. I do not know if I am truly insane. I remember the incidents with the demon head, but I do not recall the distinct details and timeline of the murders. If you deem me a killer, then dare not to read any further. Whatever I can relate in this story cannot be seen, as sane nor rational. I suppose that in the end, the terror of the demon head exists in the minds of all of us fragile humans that are susceptible to the realm of our inner darkness and secrets.
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