Demon Stories

Beau: The Black Cave, Date Unknown, The Roman Empire

Beau

The Black Cave

Date Unknown, The Roman Empire

In the dark of the night, I could still smell her black hair. See it blowing in the wind, the dark wind of things unseen. Her blue eyes screamed at me, wide as they were, in panic they were. But she could not see me, not anymore. This was truth both in literal and non-literal. 

She did not know, but I stood just yards away from the door. I had run out, but the light would have bathed me if I had not chosen to cloak myself from her, in my demon way. 

She thought me an Eros figure. This was the lore of her land. Maybe she thought she had done something wrong, innocently wrong, and her Eros had left her. But there could be no happy ending. She could not have her Voluptas child and bring me back. There would be no provings of love. There would be no happy embrace at the end, no heavenly reunion. For there was no heaven, and there was no underworld. There was just this time between us, a mortal blow perhaps of hellish proportions for both of us, though I was no mortal at all.

And what of this one in her womb now? This girl, just moments before, had told me the truth of what had come of our tryst some months before. But I could not face her, and here she was now looking straight through me with those hellish eyes, my own hell for those two pools of blue I loved so much but could no longer have. For what was in her womb? What had we created, what had I done?

Surely such a being was not allowed. Surely I would come under punishment, by one which I did not like to think of. This one of dark black and evil intent only. Things would be set into motion, and there would be nothing I could do to stop it. Nothing, that is, unless I left. If I left, perhaps the dark one would not know, and perhaps this girl would not be harmed. Perhaps the one within her would not be harmed. 

The idea of harm coming to them made me feel sick, but I could do nothing but stare at my beloved now, looking so desperate. I had to leave, and the sooner the better, but I could not move my feet any further than these few yards away. If she could see my face, she would see I did not want to leave. But it was better if she thought I wanted to leave, maybe. Maybe it was better if she thought I wanted no part of her any longer, and wanted no part of this child. Maybe she would grow a seed of hate for me, and maybe this child would, too. It was better if they did.

But the tears rolling down my face told me I thought otherwise. My tears matched her's. The candlelight behind her was flickering off of her olive skin, creating a shine in her hair. The moonlight on her front bathed her in a glorious glow. This beautiful woman. Oh how I wanted, needed to touch her again. But there would be no more touching. No more gentle whispers in the night.

The touches and the whispers, just as they were the first time. 

Staring at her, her chest heaving now as her expression changed to one of disbelief. I knew next it would turn to such desperate sadness. A sadness like the one she had when I met her, or she met me.

She did not know, but I had been able to feel her when she touched me behind the waterfall. I was in a sleep, but I was aware. Those small fingers, gliding over my skin delicately. She was not one innocent to lovers' things, so they were not shy at all. She had discovered something which should not have been, and she was yet not shy or scared. This made her even more special to me. 

Later on, she had told me about how she had discovered me. We were in my small house, and she was dressed in a pretty white robe. She took me by the waist and pressed me to her, and told me how she had been with her friends and they were swimming in the water just outside the waterfall. She had lingered, and went to the waterfall for a final soak. Here it was she had discovered the small crack, just wide enough for a slender lady to slip through. And within this, she had discovered my cave, my resting place.

She told me how I was the most beautiful and peculiar being. She felt as if she had entered a story, so she was not afraid. There I was, my hair a dark, dark blue and my lips purple, my skin completely milky white and with such a shine it looked as if it had a glaze, as if I were made of some form of pottery. She was scared how if she touched me I might shatter, how delicate a form I was. 

As she gazed at me, she got the weirdest feeling. This feeling frightened her, she said. It was as if a voice almost was begging her to give blood into my mouth. Please, it seemed to beg, just a drop, a small drop of red on the lips. 

Because of this feeling, she fled the cave. But she could not stop thinking about her find. For many days she even dreamed of me, of going to that cave. She dreamed she was standing there and touching me, laying with me, gazing at my face. 

So because of this, she went back. And encouraged by the dream, she touched me then. I remember a feeling like fog was lifted as I felt her fingers. They made me stir a bit inside, but nothing could be expressed outside. As she came back again and again, how I hungered for her but not in my natural demon way. It was a new, unnamed, way. Something odd, like a feeling of how this was supposed to be. 

Then one day, many months after she had first seen me, she told me the odd feeling of begging for blood took her over and her hand fell upon a sharp piece of rock. It was as if the feeling caused her to do so. Quickly, the rush of blood was so great that it fell down upon me and touched my lips.

Instantly, my eyes flew open and upon her finally. They opened so quickly she drew back in shock, but not fear. She told me how as I sat up, my skin turned unglazed and a slight pink but still pale white. My hair's deep blue color fell away, and the inky black of it was revealed. 

She was transfixed. She could not move, for the beauty before her was so great. She could not believe such a being could exist. This, more than anything, made her believe I was Eros, for such a perfect being was I. 

I had not discouraged her thinking. As a result, here we were now, and she had shouted one word when I left my house in such a hurry after her news.

"Eros! Ero-s!"

But I was not Eros. She was not my Psyche. I was a nameless one, called of beauty and perfection and she was a human being, a normal girl who happened to fall into a story, a fairy tale perhaps. It was nothing more. She could not be in my world. I never should have let her into my world. And now she was in danger, and I had to leave. 

Reluctantly, I breathed deeply and as my eyes fogged up and I could see her only but for a vestige of form, I turned and ran away. 

Oh as such a coward, I ran away. 

But could I have fought this fate?

I am fighting every day. Now I am fighting every day.