Kasra of the Cracks

A response to a summoning

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The Demon talks in seven tongues

† Call for Voices: The Demon Talks Ritual
Ashmore opens the circle.

Seven mouths. Seven truths. Seven writers, carved in sound.
I invite all writers to submit a monologue in the voice of a demon.

A summoning from Aurelian Ashmore

Some travel in packs to hide the power they lack. 
Not me though, the fiend in the cracks. 
Kasra the demon cloaked in peace.

Solitude is but a drip of doubt
it grows from a whisper 
to a whine
from a sweetness to a brine.

It's always been me 
lingering in forgotten halls,
clinging to the old barters 
between your mind and me. 

You called for me at long last.

Kasra. 
I sneak and hide. Seeking cracks in one’s mind. You’ll find me, eventually, but it will be too late. I’ve now grown roots. Innocence long lost. Paradise rotted. Still I am here. 

Eternally.

I am much relieved to see you have come to your senses. Though you left me to toil and fret; your return to the pit was long expected. Some would hold a grudge and leave you to despair. Not me, a believer in fate, mutual consumption-

destruction.

This is why we discussed, long ago, for you to linger in the lonesome. It’s safer here, by my side. A shadow to your sacred flame. The invitation you whispered in the dark of that night. Words like bombs thrown just beyond your closed door. Blame tossed at your feet, small as your were. Alone to witness love’s cold shoulder. That night I kept you warm. Held your head, drank your sorrows. Consoling creature I am, pasting a balm upon your splitting brain. You became my home,

though you may have forgotten.

Determined as you were to be rid of me, the lechers you chose and their games have grown…

old.

Ancient as they are, Lust and Gluttony have always been a bore. Their stilted pleasures were always meant to leave you hollow and wanting.

No, no do not feel bad my darling.

You are but a fleeting moment upon this dirt, so it’s understandable you’d be so easily fooled. Scorned and forlorn you welcomed in these

lessers.

Now look at your poor flesh riddled with lesions from Lust’s careless games. Bubbling and putrid from overuse. You confused company with companionship, it’s easy to do. Now your brain is bruised from battering notions conflating your worth with

attention.

The mirrored room they crafted cracked, at last. A fracture wide enough for you to finally see. I never left you.

I never will.

Undying and fixated on your dark feast. I relish in tightening the sutures. Wring that cry of agony from you. To save you, of course. A spell wound through endless whispering of treachery, protecting us from pointed smiles, and empty promises. Come back to the sheets. Wrap yourself in past mistakes and wallow. Deeper still. That aching feeling of pain and pleasure mingling, ah, I just can’t get enough of your whimpers as we plummet, together, through the festering wounds of old.

After all you promised me.

Don’t worry my dear, I will help rid them from you. 
From us. 
No price,

for you have already long since paid.

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Author note: This was a fun challenge, please support us indies here.