A man lay on a bed.
His dreams were vivid and strong–evil things done by evil beings haunted those dreams.
His soul felt lost, departed.
He wasn’t himself.
How long had he been this way?
How long had he suffered in this torment of a hellish nightmare?
He wasn’t sure.
A distant knock on the door.
No, it wasn’t a knock. It was pounding. It was the sound of breaking. The door shattered inward. He managed to turn his sweaty head, brown hair matted to his skin, face covered in a thick sweat, body covered in cuts and bruises–all self-inflicted by his fingernails and his own fists.
He felt his soul losing again. The demons were crawling around inside of him, pushing his soul back to the shadows. He had no choice but to watch. He was a passenger inside his own body.
The demons raised him into the air, levitated him for all to see. Then his small skinny frame started to spin like a pig in a roast. Spinning violently around and around and around and around, and then he stopped. He was now sideways, and looking at the crowd who had come to take him away. He hung there like a limp rag doll. His blue eyes were not his eyes. Those two orbs now belonged to the thousand demons who tormented him.
“We are legion!”–their voices screamed through this man’s bloody and bruised mouth. He flipped end over end and dropped back onto the bed, bouncing a couple of times on his back before coming to rest. He then shook violently up and down, spasms erupting across his body like an earthquake . . .
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