Demon Like Me

I am standing at the window; the shutters are tethered by rope against the house to allow the wind to circulate freely through my bedroom. The ocean is a distant hum, lapping at the white sandy beaches not far from here. Through the warm, salt scented air, the piercing gulls’ cries are all around me, a not at all unpleasant sound. Many who have not lived here say that it can be quite annoying, their ceaseless chatter carrying on past dusk.
I cannot see how it could be considered an issue, but I suppose it really depends on one’s perspective…

*Sigh*

Goku sensei... He left. I do not know why. I took a break from my training so that I could go about my daily chores. My mother asked that I carry water from the well to the house since her back can’t handle such a burden.

Mother is old, more so than expected for a woman with a fourteen year old son; I had arrived very suddenly. My father passed away not long after mom discovered that she was pregnant with me; she likes to consider me her ‘blessing’. After all, if I had not come she may not have dealt with father’s death so well. His heart had given out one day while he harvested coconuts; so many years of labor had finally tired out his body. To those who knew him, he had been young and full of energy, but in reality, he was a 50 year old man, trained to wield a machete from the young age of 7. It wasn’t the only thing he did, but he had a reputation for having a keen eye and quick aim.

He was a great man… a man I will never meet. He rests beneath the earth he reaped, shaded by a papaya tree. The only reminder of his location is a circle of white quartz stones; in its center, planted upright, is a gnarled piece of drift wood, bleached white by the sun. His memory will continue to live on within us. But, when the aged ones die, there will be nothing left, only mother and I. There aren’t any children, all taken by sickness at some point or other. Luck is one of the things this village lacks and I have strived to correct it… I am the man of the house, aren’t I? Is it not my responsibility to care for the weak and hold my head high?

I am the pillar that supports this village. I have survived. Hunger, disease, natural disasters, and greatest of all, the intruders from strange worlds; I’ve endured. Some think I am a ‘blessing’…and then there are the elders, the skeptics… They are kind enough not to say it forwardly, but I see it in their eyes, their silent accusations.

Demon!

‘He is not an ordinary boy,’ they say when they think I am not listening. ‘He has the strength of twenty men or more; I have seen his fist strike down trees too thick to be felled by a mere ax. He has never been sick! He talks to himself! Have you seen him? And that temper! He is always with that strange wild-haired man; you remember? That time a few years back when he was sent to the competition to return with money… Yes, indeed, with a fighting spirit like his, how could he not win? Still, a strange child… he trains with this man, Son Goh-kuh. His rage frightens me, makes my heart race! I fear for my life! That look in his eyes and the way he behaves, like a rampant animal!’

I stare at my hands, the breeze making my bangs tickle my forehead. ‘Demon…’
There is something about me, something that separates me from humanity. I was born with these…abilities… some call it ‘mutantcy’… I don’t know what to believe. I just…know that the things I have experienced, psychologically, are far beyond what one would call normal.

It’s like I’m fighting this thing, this ‘demon’ they whisper about in hushed voices. It. He… the demon is inside me and I feel it, creeping at the edges of my subconscious, his laughter a distant echo. Subtle and often times, silent like death, I am myself, Ubu, but then there the other times, especially when I fight. The demon, his voice commanding me with such force that I am deafened; I hear nothing else. There is such an overwhelming surge of anger, bleeding from places that I didn’t know that existed. A blinding rage, it consumes me, swallows me whole and I am helpless to stop it…to stop…him… A part of me doesn’t care about what may or may not happen. I probably sound strange when I say this, but I like it. I like the feeling of losing control and simply ‘being’...

Is this natural? I am not like them. I will never be ‘human’… not in their eyes… I curl my fingers into fists, tightening them till the knuckles turn white.

‘vermin… all of them… they don’t understand…every last god damned one of them…’

“Be quiet,” I hiss.

‘They deserve to die…’

“No one deserves death…”

‘…bah, you and your chivalrous ways… What about those who kill? The murderers, rapists, and thieves… what about them…? Your rules say that the penalty for such sins is death. So why can’t they suffer…the haggard idiots who thrust their noses in the air like they’re better, like they know more! You know how hurtful their words have been. No matter what you do…what WE have done, they shun us.’

I glare at the windowsill, fists tightening till the joints in my fingers pop. "There is no ‘us’…”

He grins, flashing sharp teeth. ‘Have I struck a nerve? Have I--”

Blood, crimson red, wells up from where my nails have imbedded in the flesh of my palms. “SHUT. UP.”

“Ubu?”

I look up with a start, surprised that I had not sensed my mother’s approach. “M..mom…”

“Ubu, who are you talking to?”

I look away, out the window, watching the tapered palmate sway in the wind. The green needles rub against one another, stark in contrast to the sound of my own labored breathing. My heart is racing… He was speaking to me. I thought I had suppressed it.

“Ubu!” A hand on my shoulder tugs me back to reality.

“I wasn’t talking to anyone… just myself I guess.”

She smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “You always have such an imagination… Even as a little boy, always chattering away to yourself, like someone stood beside you, but when I looked no one was there.”

“I’m sorry mother…”

“Don’t apologize silly. It is a part of who you are. ..Now, if you’ll come with me, you can taste the cookies I’ve got baking in the oven. They’re your favorite.” She curls her arm around my elbow and leads me through my room and down the hall to the kitchen. Long ago I had already smelled the mouth watering aroma of my mother’s baked goods, but for once, I had other things on my mind.

She looked over her shoulder, concern etched in her features. “I was sure you’d be tailing my every move, poking your fingers in the dough… I’ve always had to swat that hand of yours away as a little boy.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “I’d scold you, but then when you thought I wasn’t looking you’d go on ahead and do it anyway. I couldn’t be angry at you; at least I have someone to appreciate what I love to do most… No sooner had I set the pan in the oven, you’d lick the bowl clean of the leftovers and look up at me with this satisfied grin. You were so cute!”

I blush, giving my neck an embarrassed rub. “Heh. Yeah. I guess I’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth, neh?”

Mother sweeps forth and embraces me. “And you’ve filled out nicely… I made sure you had things better than just sweets to keep you healthy. …look at you.” She steps back, holding me at arm’s length to study me. “Just look at how you’ve grown. Goodness me, if there were any girls your age around here I’d have to beat them back with the broom.”

“Mom…”

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me,” she chides. “It’s the truth. You’re strong, smart, responsible, and hard-working. …and these muscles… you were a scrawny little thing not long ago… But, that kind fellow Goku showed up from the tournament with you and taught you to hone your skills. My, look at the man you’ve become. Two years and my beloved Ubu is two heads taller than me and built like the models that those teenagers from the mainland are always fawning over.”

“Moooom.”

“Hush you. Let an old mother boast!” She places a cookie in my mouth as if to say ‘and that’s that’. She then turns heel to stoke the wood burning oven with a metal poker, humming a cheerful tune.

Sighing and shrugging, I stuff the offering into my mouth and chew thoughtfully, eyeing the front door. Usually he’d be here, sniffing the air like a starving hound. ‘Goku sensei…’

“Where did that man go?” She asks, rushing to the window to peer through the frayed curtain. “I made another batch just for him… Oh. You know, other than your love of fighting, you two have other things in common… It’s funny when I sit back and really think about it.”

“Whatsat?”

Mother narrows her eyes at me and places her hands on her hips. “Must I state the obvious? Bottomless pits for stomachs! Hee hee, watching the both of you eat is quite entertaining.”

If my face were any redder, I think I’d resemble a tomato.

“Now, now… Don’t be embarrassed! It’s good that you eat so well, especially with as much of the energy you burn training all the time.” She glances out the window again. “You should go see if Goku’s around; I’m sure he’d hate to miss the chance at having some of my chocolate chip cookies.”

‘Bah,’ a voice growls. ‘If the bastard doesn’t care enough to show up then keep them for us!’

I frown at the floor, refusing to acknowledge the comment. “He isn’t here. He left.”

“Oh? Where’d he go?”

“I don’t know, but…” I stop, distracted by a strange buzzing in my skull. A rift, through the very essence of existence itself… It is a ripple, spreading wider and further out, like rain on the surface of a pond, reaching with invisible fingers into my mind and soul. ‘… a disturbance,’ I sit at the kitchen table, reaching blindly for another cookie on the cooling rack.

The voice, deadly calm, whispers, ‘We are not alone.’

“What should I do?”

“What should you do, indeed!” Mom ruffles my hair and places a steaming mug of green tea before me. “Dear boy, you’re more in the clouds now than ever… whatever shall I do, hm?” She watches me as I chew mechanically upon the round baked goodness.

“There’s nothing to do,” I say, though I wonder if it’s really me saying it. “I wait and watch, waiting for the moment to make my move.”

“A move?” she questions, one dark brow raised. “Well, before you go wandering off somewhere, I’d like you to do a few things for me. These old bones aren’t what they use to be.”

I nod, taking a swig of tea, only to realize that in my haste, I’ve burned my tongue. Ignoring the dull sting on my taste buds, I watch my mother slump into the chair opposite of me; she sighs, looking as if the very weight of the world sits on her shoulders.

She asks more of me each day and all I can do is sit and stare, watching time whittle her away.
There is no talking.
I do not smile.
The voice is quiet, he doesn’t laugh.
For once, the shadows with red eyes have relented and I am Ubu, the human, fourteen and wise beyond my years.

I continue to observe in foreboding silence, contemplating my future. And, for the first time I am conscious of the fact that I’m progressively losing myself and everything around me, piece by piece.

TBC...