My Personal Demon

01:25

The first time he showed me a vision, I thought the world was ending.

I was in the grocery store examining a batch of onions for signs of rot, debating between choosing the white or red ones. The light overhead flickered briefly, but I hadn't paid any mind to it. It was a rundown store. Posters were peeling off the walls. A light or two was bound to flicker.

No, what really got my attention was the thud. I thought someone dropped their groceries so I bent down to pick up the object. But instead of feeling the rough fabric of someone's reusable canvas bag, my fingers grazed supple flesh. I stare at the object in my hands.

I was carrying a human head.

I instantly dropped it. The head landed on the linoleum with a wet slap, rolling to join the others. Around me, people's heads were falling to the ground, sliding off their bodies like pieces of melted butter.

Infected by the insanity of those around me, I grab my own head, fearing that it too would slip off. The upper half of my neck parts from my shoulders and my world turns sideways.

I grab strands of my hair in a futile attempt to keep my head in place but it's already too late.

My head falls from my hands, spiraling to the ground. The world spins before my eyes as my temple hits the checkered floors.

And just like that, my head is off the ground and back on my neck. The grocery lights flicker again. I get a few odd looks from the people around me and I realize I'm holding my head like a maniac.

I imagine the even stranger looks that I would get if I explained that it was because I was afraid of losing my head.

I awkwardly lower my arms and resume shopping as if everything was normal. I pick up a sack of onions, choosing the red ones.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Charles shopping on the other side of the store. The impersonator was wearing his favorite navy blue sweater paired with an off-white button-down shirt. He meets my eyes above a selection of fish, sending me a wink.

"I'm watching you," he mouthed, smiling at the sight of my torment.

The last time my husband looked that happy was on our spring vacation, one month before his death.

We were in a sunflower field, visiting his hometown. The sky was a shade of blue that took my breath away, so remarkably clear and cerulean. It made me conscious of my own beating heart, trying to take it all in.

He was the writer and I was the artist. We could've described that day in a million different ways, but what really stood out to me was the yellow of the sunflower petals. I wanted to know if they felt as warm as they looked.

I touched them, marveling at how soft they were. But my joy was short-lived because the sunflower head fell off almost immediately as soon as I touched it. A cold breeze blows by, leftover from an unusually long winter, taking all the sunflower heads off their stems.

Perhaps that was why this demonic creature showed me this vision. Maybe he was poking fun at the last good memory I had with him.

Sunflowers and human heads rain from the ceiling.

He turned his back to me, throwing his head back in laughter. He was driving me crazy.

I follow him through the store, wanting to give him a piece of my mind. Who did this creature think he was, provoking me in broad daylight? How did he still have the audacity to pretend to be my dead husband?

I stomp after him, almost jogging to catch up. He manages to stay one step ahead of me, always walking just a little faster.

I eventually lost him in the bread aisle much to my dismay. By then, most of my anger dissipated, replaced by the exhaustion of grief.