Demon Stories

Diana: Mr. Crazy Man, 1960, Ireland

Diana

Mr. Crazy Man

1960, Ireland

I told him not to do it. That it would raise our profile. We never want people to be able to recognize our faces. But he insisted, and you can't really ever say no to him. He's too charming.

So when Beau got himself committed to the insane asylum I wasn't the only one who thought he was nuts.

I think he only wanted to be near Josephine. Josephine was working as a nurse there at the time. So of course I got a job as a nurse there with Violette disguised as my dependent daughter, just to keep an eye on him. 

Josephine had a nice racket going, posing as a seductively pretty nurse, clipping off hospital staff and patient alike. But Beau seemed to have an eye to ruin things for her. He isn't very good at hiding his motives, at least not from me. He didn't like the idea of Josephine flirting with other people, even human people. Josephine just told him to fuck off, mind his own business. But I knew she was teasing. She likes playing with Beau just like I do, like a spider playing with a maniacally laughing fly who won't die in her web. 

One night, late that December, an unusually bright young man was admitted to the hospital. He sat in his wheelchair at the check in desk, very quiet. I asked him the usual questions, took his possessions, gave him hospital whites. He kept staring at me and staring at me. Finally, he narrowed his eyes.

"Need something?" I asked.

"You're a demon," he spat, "this whole place is full of them."

Having been accused of this many times before, I didn't even blink. "That's okay, Mr...McKay is it? We've all got a little demon inside of us, but we're all human in the end."

"You're not human," he whispered. He looked around. "And neither is she. The one with the red hair." 

"And why's that?" I asked.

"You're too perfect looking to be human. That woman. She should have freckles, but her skin is too white, too perfect. Like milk. And your skin is too even in tone. There should be differences in it, but--"

"Mr. McKay, what did you do before you came here?"

"Doctor. Dr. McKay. I'm a Dermatologist."

"No wonder you know so much about skin!" I chirped. "And why are you talking about demons? There's no such thing as demons."

"You just said we've all got a little demon inside of us," he said, the space between his eyebrows creased.

"Would you like an apple, Dr. McKay?" I asked, picking one up from the basket on the nursing station desk. "You're a Doctor right? You like them."

"Why are you changing the subject?" he asked, alarmed now, looking about ready to jump out of his wheelchair. That's when Josephine came over and wheeled him away with the empty eyed dead little smile of her's.