Rākṣasaviṣ, Realm of Strange Demons

285th year of the 9th era; 9e-285

Mid Summer

Edgemere Village

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Ten-year-old Melchizedek squirmed in his seat as he held his arm out to his father. Solomon glared at his fidgeting son as he attempted to wrap bandages around Melchizedek’s arm. The boy did not notice his father’s stern look, brown eyes locked on the kitchen window. Children ran through the street, playing tag or catch. Adults gathered by the bakery a few houses down, waiting to purchase their morning meal. Every so often, Melchizedek’s eyes shifted to where his mother sat in the rocking chair, nursing his infant sister.

“Stop squirming, Mel,” Solomon mumbled under his breath.

Melchizedek tore his gaze from the window to stare up at his father with wide eyes filled with curiosity. “But it hurts.”

Solomon sighed, shoulders slumping. “Mel, we go through this every day. You’re a big boy, right? You can handle a little pain.”

“I guess…” Melchizedek stared at his partially bandaged arm, the tender pink skin on his hand glowering back at him. He swung his legs in contemplation, lips pressed into a thin line. A second more passed before he held his arm straighter for his father.

“That’s my boy.”

Melchizedek returned to watching the other children play outside. He ignored his father as he tugged the linen bandages around his pale arm. Before Solomon could ask how they felt, the middle child of the family burst from a nearby bedroom, tears streaming down her face.

“Momma!” the six-year-old wailed, holding up her stuffed doll. “Lily’s broken!”

“Honey,” Rebecca cooed from the rocking chair. “Please, be quiet. Your sister is sleeping.” She pressed a finger to her lips, attempting to shush her daughter.

“I don’t care about Sariah!” She stomped her foot, her doll clutched in her fist. “I want my dolly fixed! Now!”

“Elisheba!” Solomon hissed. “Be quiet.”

“But Daddy!” Elisheba waved her doll at her father, pointing at a large rip in the seam on its right shoulder. “Lily’s broken! How can I play with her if she’s broken? I want to play! Daddy, fix her!”

“Elisheba.” Solomon pinched the bridge of his nose. He sucked in a deep breath, hoping to calm his aggravated nerves. After he released his breath, he turned to Melchizedek. The curious ten-year-old had yet to notice the inconvenience of his little sister, too engrossed in staring out the kitchen window. Solomon then glanced at his wife, who was now humming a lullaby to Sariah. Seeing that she was busy with their infant daughter, Solomon turned back to his son. “Hey, Mel.”

Melchizedek tore his gaze from the window once more.

Solomon sighed, running a hand through his short brown hair. “Can you finish bandaging your other arm? Your sister will throw a tantrum if I don’t fix Lily right now.” He sent a weary smile at his wife, continuing to speak to his son. “Can you do that for me?”

Melchizedek nodded, unfazed by his father leaving him to bandage his arm. The boy grabbed the roll of sterile linen while his father tended to his sniveling sister. From the corner of his eye, he watched as his father toyed with Lily’s torn arm, Elisheba whimpering beside him, watching him with big watery brown eyes. Solomon tugged the doll’s arm once more before nodding. He walked into the bedroom, Elisheba following him like a lost puppy, nervously playing with a strand of brown hair. A moment later, the pair returned. Solomon seated himself at the kitchen table with a spool of thread and needle in hand. Elisheba hovered over his shoulder as he worked, soft whimpers escaping her as her father sowed the tear in her doll’s shoulder.

Melchizedek’s attention slowly shifted back to the kitchen window as he finished wrapping his arm. Something caught his eye. He stared hard out the window, brows furrowed as he watched dark smoke billow in the distance. He sniffed the air. Only the fragrance of the irises just outside the window greeted his nose.

“Mel.” Solomon’s voice brought the boy out of his observation. “Finish wrapping, then you can look.”

Melchizedek returned to his bandaging, but he couldn’t help but look up at the billowing smoke. Every few wraps around his delicate skin, he would glance out the window. When he finished bandaging his left arm, he could smell the smoke. He quickly taped the loose end, hopped off the wooden stool, and walked up to the window.

He clutched the windowsill, staring out at the village in awe. The children that had been playing outside were no longer there. Nor were the adults. He eyed the smoke in confusion. His parents had not noticed the dark plumes rising into the sky nor the foul odor permeating the air. It smelled nothing like a normal wood fire.

It stank.

Melchizedek opened the window and peeked his head outside. A flash of movement caught the corner of his eye. His head snapped in its direction. Long dark hair and a horned skull atop a person’s head. He gasped. Before his parents could question him, he stumbled away from the window, shaking.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“There’s a scary lady outside,” Melchizedek mumbled, grasping the collar of his shirt, fear dancing in his wide brown eyes.

Melchizedek’s parents stared at him before exchanging glances. The boy pointed a quivering finger at the window. “She had horns, and her arms were too long. Her eyes were really scary too. It was a demon, Dad.”

Solomon frowned. He exchanged another glance with his wife, her face mirroring his concern. “Mel, there’s no such thing as demons. Not here.” He clipped the thread from Elisheba’s doll and handed the newly sowed toy to his daughter. He then strode to where Melchizedek stood, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure it was just one of the odd villagers, or maybe you imagined things.” He did not spare a glance outside.

Melchizedek shook his head. “No, Dad. I know what I saw. That wasn’t a villager. It was a demon. Like in the books I’ve read. And the smoke. Can’t you smell it? It has to be the demon lady that set things on fire. Dad.” Melchizedek stared at his father, eyes wide with fear.

“Smoke?” Solomon peeked his head out of the still-open window. He didn’t spy a horned woman, but he saw the billowing pillars of dark smoke rising into the sky. “Sorry, kiddo. I don’t see your demon. But…” he turned to his wife. “There’s a bit of smoke. A barn must have caught on fire.”

“But, Dad!” Melchizedek whined. “I saw something. I know I did. It was a scary lady. She was wearing a-a- a deer skull and didn’t look right.”

“I’m sure you did, bud,” Solomon muttered, slamming the window shut. “I’m sure you did.” He patted Melchizedek on the back as he gazed at his wife, who was burping Sariah. Husband and wife caught each other’s gazes, both exchanging curt nods. “Come on, you two. Let’s go down into the basement and play some games.”

“The basement? Why?” Melchizedek stared out the window, still searching for the mysterious woman.

“We haven’t been down there in a while. Remember all those games we haven’t played since winter? Grandma and Grandpa would be upset that you haven’t been playing with the toys they bought you.”

“Yay!” Elisheba threw her arms into the air, her newly fixed doll forgotten. “I want to play a board game with Daddy! Come on! Come on!” She tugged on her father's and brother’s sleeves, overflowing with excitement.

Elisheba’s shouting disturbed her infant sister, and Sariah’s cries filled the air. Both older siblings cringed. Elisheba raced downstairs to escape the awful noise, her father following steps behind her. Melchizedek didn’t follow, eyes still locked on the kitchen window. “Don’t you smell the smoke, Mom? It stinks.”

His mother tensed but masked her worry with a smile. “Just go down and play with your father and sister. I’ll be down in a minute. I just need to calm little Sariah down.”

“Okay…” Melchizedek finally peeled away from the kitchen window and descended the stairs, but not before sending his mother a worried look. Halfway down, he popped up onto his tippy toes to take one last peek out the window. He knew he had seen something — his parents just didn’t believe him.

Spying only smoke, Melchizedek sighed in defeat.

At the bottom of the stairs, Melchizedek watched his father and little sister set up the worn board game. Elisheba spotted her older brother and leaped up from her spot on the couch, face alight with a beaming grin. She grabbed his hand and tried to tug him to the board game. “Come on, Mel.” When he didn’t move, she flopped next to her father on the couch, peering over his shoulder as she waited for her brother to join them.

Melchizedek stayed rooted to his spot. He stared at the game, a frown etched onto his freckled face. He was in no mood to play. All he wanted to do was watch the window. There was something out there, and he wanted to prove to his parents that he saw something.

The boy turned back to the stairs. He placed his foot on the first step to ascend back into the kitchen when a shriek sounded outside. “Mom?”

“It’s okay, honey.” His mother’s voice drifted down the stairwell. Her frantic footsteps sounded from the floor above. Pots and pans clanged, the scraping of heavy wooden objects pushed across the floor, and the slamming of doors sounded for several minutes. Soon enough, the plump woman descended the stairwell, Sariah clutched to her chest and a box filled with precious sentimental items under her arm.

“I told you there was something out there,” Melchizedek said as he took the box from his mother’s arm. “What is it?”

“Nothing you need to worry about, Mel.” His mother turned back to the stairs, shutting the door and locking it. She stared at her family, fear dancing in her brown eyes.

“But.”

“Melchizedek.” Solomon’s voice was harsh. He didn’t look up as he slapped a game piece next to Elisheba’s. “Your mother said not to worry about it.”

“Are you sure, Dad?” Melchizedek sniffed the air, his nose crinkling in disgust. “The smoke smells worse than before. And… I think I hear screaming.” He turned to his parents, wide eyes reflecting their own fear that they tried to hide. “Mom? Dad? What’s happening to the village? Is that demon lady attacking people?”

“Nothing is happening, Mel.” Solomon tossed a die across the floor. “Just stay down here and keep quiet.”

Melchizedek stared at his father. The boy opened his mouth to say something but stopped, lips pressing into a thin line. He stared up the stairwell, but couldn’t see anything with the door closed. The foul smoke was becoming stronger by the second, and faint screams drifted through the wood. He pressed a hand to his nose and mouth and sat beside his father. Melchizedek did not join the game, though. The boy settled for watching his sister and father roll dice and slap wooden game pieces onto the board.

Even as the monotonous clacking of game pieces droned and Elisheba’s excited squeals pierced the air, the pungent smoke lingered. If Melchizedek listened hard enough, he could hear the happenings above. Screams of terror and pain. A blood-curdling cackle. He hated it. Through all of this, Elisheba seemed unaware. It was as if she didn’t notice her parent’s worried demeanors, the horrible smell hanging in the air, or the subtle screams from outside.

A shriek just outside the house made Melchizedek flinch. He gritted his teeth and stared at the staircase, brows furrowed with worry and eyes filled with fear. His mother stood from the couch, Sariah clutched tightly to her chest. In hushed words, she ordered her two older children to stay quiet as she turned off the lights. Solomon then ushered the pair into one of the large cabinets meant to hold their toys and games.

The children did not question their parents as they were pushed into the cabinet along with the box Rebecca had brought down. Melchizedek watched in fear as his parents scurried around the room, gathering items and tossing them into the cabinet with the children. Solomon pressed a finger to his lips as he closed the cabinet door. “Don’t make a sound until I say so, okay?”

Elisheba and Melchizedek nodded. Elisheba clung to her newly fixed doll, tears pooling in her eyes. Melchizedek sat still as stone beside her, listening to the sounds outside. He clutched his mother’s favorite necklace in his hands, a red-stained glass charm strung on a thin nickel chain.

Melchizedek squeezed his eye shut when the distinct sound of the doorknob being jiggled filled the silence. He didn’t open his eyes as he waited with bated breath. A click sounded, followed by the basement door creaking open.