James Moore - The Haunted Forest Tour

“Yeah, I…” Christopher trailed off. “Sorry, this is very weird for me.”

“Talking to a demon? Why’s that weird?”

“I’ve never done it before.”

“Well, you’ve probably never stapled a carrot to your nose before, and that wouldn’t be weird. Okay, it might be a little weird, but weirder things have been done in your universe, I assume?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so. So, Christopher, how was the flight over? Sufficient leg room? No mechanical delays, I hope.”

“You mean the bird?”

“Yeah, I mean the bird. Don’t be such a dumb-ass. How about you answer me this question: Why do you think you were brought here?”

“I have no idea.”

“I know you have no idea. But you’ve got to have a guess, right? Even if it’s something like ‘I was brought here because I’m a snazzy dresser.’ If you truly have no idea, then your mind must be blank, and even though you’re limiting yourself to short, uninteresting sentences I’d be very surprised if your mind was completely blank. Why were you brought here? Go on, guess.”

“To… negotiate?”

“Ooooh, good one. You were brought here to negotiate for the lives of your fellow survivors. I like that. It’s wrong, but I like it. Actually, the truth lies more along the lines of you being, y’know, a sacrifice.”

Christopher nearly lost his footing, but somehow managed to keep himself upright. Pestilence chuckled.

“Yep, a good old-fashioned sacrifice. Also, here’s another trivia fact that you might find interesting. You know my charming personality? It’s really just to lull you into a false sense of security.”

Pestilence punched Christopher in the side of the head, hard enough to make his ears ring. This time Christopher did fall. As he struck the ice, Pestilence kicked him in the side of the leg. Christopher slid across the ice, his teeth clacking together on his tongue as he bashed into the far wall.

An instant later, Pestilence hovered over him again. “Did that hurt? I hope it hurt. I do so enjoy causing pain and suffering.” The demon grabbed Christopher’s foot and flung him across the ice again. He slammed into the wall, almost certain that he’d broken a few bones this time.

This time Pestilence walked toward him in a casual stroll. “Yep, Chris, things aren’t going to work out well for you, I’m afraid. Being a sacrifice for a demon? Not fun. Too bad you’re not my human host. That’s a fun gig. But you’ll be dead before I get to that part.”

Christopher sat up against the wall, the cold biting into his shirtless back. “Why me?” he asked.

“No good reason. I sent my birdie to grab somebody and you were the closest. I know, I know, it’s a disappointment, isn’t it? You were all excited thinking that you were the Chosen One or something like that. For what it’s worth, of all the people who’ve died on this lovely Halloween, your death will be the messiest, and that’s saying something.”

Christopher spat out some blood.

“Now, now, don’t waste it. Waste not, want not, that’s what I always say. Well, not really, but I should start. There’s wisdom in those words, don’t you think?”

Christopher spat out some more blood. “Fuck you.”

The demon stopped. “Oooooh, now we’re getting feisty, huh? I didn’t expect to hear the F-word pass through your lips. I like your spark, young man. How about this? Look at me really sternly and tell me that you’re gonna kill me. Go on, do it. As stern as you can.”

Christopher used the back of his hand to wipe some blood off his mouth, but said nothing.

“Oh, c’mon, be a sport! Give me a mean ol’ look and tell me that you’re gonna kill me! Do something that’ll send a chill down my spine and make me think ‘Oooooh, this guy is a bad-ass, I’d better be concerned for my personal safety!’ Scare me. Go on. Make me tremble.”

“I’m not playing your games,” said Christopher, with approximately twenty-five times more courage than he actually felt.

“I wouldn’t call this a game,” said Pestilence, resuming his stroll. “Games are supposed to be fun for both players. This is more like amusing torture. You’re not gonna try to intimidate me, huh?”

Christopher didn’t respond.

“That’s fine, that’s fine. We’ll just get right down to business.” The demon gracefully slid across the last ten feet of ice, and grinned at Christopher. “What part of your body would you miss the least if I sliced it off?”

“Fuck you.”

Pestilence frowned. “Now you’re just being redundant. I hate redundancy. It’s a waste. And now that I think of it, the human body has a lot of redundancy. Two eyes. Two ears. Two arms. Two legs. Hell, you’ve even got two kidneys. What’s up with that?”

Pestilence crouched down next to Christopher. He held up his clawed hand and waved it in front of Christopher’s face. “I could slice your nose off before you could even sneeze. You’re aware of that, right? Of course, your nose isn’t redundant, but the twin nostrils are. I guess I could slice your nose in half. What do you think of that?”

Christopher was absolutely petrified, and he was pretty sure that at any moment he might vomit, lose control of his bladder, cry, or all three. Instead, he forced himself to stare directly into Pestilence’s cold blue eyes. “Touch me and I’ll kill you,” he said.

Pestilence threw back his head and laughed. “Now that’s the kind of spark that entertains me! Yeah! Your personality isn’t a complete void after all.” Pestilence quickly swiped his claw across Christopher’s cheek, slashing him from ear to chin. “Did that hurt? I hope it hurt, because that was my intent.”

“I swear I’ll kill you.”

“Oh, now you swear you’ll kill me! Even better! Here, have another painful slash.” The demon sliced Christopher’s other cheek.

“I don’t want to build up your ego too much,” Pestilence said, “but you look really cool with those slashes on your cheeks. Like some macho warrior or something. Believe me, if I weren’t the powerful demon ruler of this forest, I’d be intimidated as hell.”

Pestilence clapped his hand over his mouth. “Oops! Did I let that out? You were just supposed to think I was some common hooligan, not the big bad guy. But, hey, it’s out there. I’m the leader. The boss. The video game villain at the end of the level. The guy you love to hate and hate to love. Hard to believe that there was a time when you thought that the bird was your biggest problem, huh?”

“You’re lying,” said Christopher.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Do I need to repeat it?”

“So you’re getting into the tough-guy act. Cool. I encourage that. You think I’m full of shit, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Well then, let’s discuss that interesting point of view. Is it okay if I slice and dice you while we’re conversing? Good.”

Pestilence slashed a line across Christopher’s chest. “Tell me, Chris—oh, hey, is it okay if I call you Chris?”

“Nobody calls me Chris.”

“Fair enough. How about I call you Prey? Or Plaything? Or Poor Bastard Who Is Going To Die A Horrible Gruesome Blood-Spurting Death?”

“Whatever.”

“Okay, Poor Bastard Who Is Going To Die a Horrible Gruesome Blood-Spurting Death, what do you know about inter-dimensional travel?”

“Not much.”

“I didn’t think so. Let me explain it in a way that won’t hurt your brain too much. Look around you. Go on, look around you.”

Playing along, Christopher glanced to his right and to his left.

“Everything that you see is part of your dimension. A dimension is very vast. It goes way past the stars and all that stuff. With me so far?”