With the Demon Alone


I had a demon and I named him “Alone” and his baleful empty eye frightened me and his long grasping fingers terrified me. He lived in a closet where I could hear him stomping about restlessly, sulkily, whenever I was by myself in my room. So, I made sure that I almost never was.

Being left only made Alone worse, and he’d begin to act out even when I had a friend with me. Even if she slept with me in my bed, I couldn’t pull her close enough or whisper in her ear with enough fervor to drown out Alone scratching pitiable, insistently, inevitably at the door.

“You’re not coming into this bed,” I said out loud one night, just a few days after she’d left me. No one else was around, just him and me. “You’re not sleeping here. You stay in your closet.”

He stopped his scratching…

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