The Demon Followed Me Home

Edward Punales
The Junction
Published in
2 min readFeb 23, 2019

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I

Like a Lost Puppy,
Trailing behind me,
All the way from the high school,
To my front porch.

Six stubby legs,
Jutting out of a toothpick frame,
A long hairy tail,
Gray skin like ash,
A bulbous head,
Too big for its body,
Dragged on the ground,
By a scrawny neck.

It looked up at me,
With a pair of sickly yellow eyes,
I picked him up,
And carried him inside.

My cat didn’t mind it.
I didn’t show him to mom and dad.
I never show them anything.

The demon slept under my bed that night,
His snores sounded like a little bird’s,
I named him Nick Fury,
After my favorite Avenger.

II

There were more demons the next day.

My neighbor,
Mr. Spencer,
Bitched about a centaur sleeping in his garden.

The bus was late,
Because a flaming monkey thought it’d be fun,
To melt the tires.

When we got to school,
Mr. Henderson,
The American History teacher,
Had his throat ripped out by a mermaid.

Class was cancelled.

III

I got a stroller for Nick Fury,
And we went for a walk in the park.

It was quiet.
Most people didn’t want to be outside that day.
It was just me and the demons.

A goat woman
Head of a goat,
Body of a woman,
Was standing in front of the pawn shop,
Naked,
Skin clear and soft,
Curves you could lose yourself in,
Legs crossed,
Leaning against a wall,
Breasts out,
Waiting for someone,
Who wanted company.

A creature made of ripped cloth,
Sentient pile of rags,
Forming the shape of a man,
Rode the wind currents,
Shrieked and cackled in the afternoon light,
Frightening old men on the street.

The black dragon came down from the sky,
With red eyes,
And leathery wings,
And it torched the park,
Soldiers and police officers tried to deal with it,
Fighting fire and brimstone with bullets,
The dragon played with them,
Then let them have it.

I watched all this from a distance,
Hands on the stroller,
Watching men in uniform ripped apart,
Disemboweled,
And set aflame.

I kept watching,
A severed hand flung through the air,
Landed mere feet from me,
Nick Fury’s eyes lit up at the sight of it,
Reached out his sickly gray paws.

I picked up the hand,
And gave it to him,
Nick Fury teethed on it like an infant.

The dragon left,
The remaining soldiers moaned,
Crawled across the scorched grass,
Crawled to…
I don’t know where,
I’m not sure they knew where they were crawling either.

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Edward Punales
The Junction

I am a writer and filmmaker. I love storytelling in all its forms. Contact Info and Other Links: https://medium.com/@edwardpgames/my-bibliography-6ad2c863c6be