Three Demons and Teresa: With Love

A boy walks in on an angry demon writing a letter.

Rays of weakened sunlight bleed upon the left edge of the desk. Car motors toil away only to be muted against wall, a sheet of glass, and plastic shutters.
A brightness shines at the corner of his vision, as he slowly claws toward the base of his glass of water, just his left. He summons the energy to drag the glass toward his chin, the sound grating his ears until the glass slows against the edge of the pile of papers, bending the edge of the papers. He tips the cup just enough to allow a stream of warmth to run down his tongue. The taste is stale as he ceases his hand from the base of the cup. The cup achieves its balance after a touch of water climbs to the rim and drips down the glass. Kwadjo groans and rests his right forearm onto a sheet below. His head descends, cushioned by the skin of his wrist as it collides. His left grip only enough to save the pencil from plummeting onto the carpet. He groans, hauling

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his head from his wrist. His back straightens. He looks down at the piece of paper below. Passed his heavy eyelids, he sees the array of horizontal blue lines, intersected by a vertical pink line. What used to be a mess of faint, grey words, with the touch of a dirty eraser, had deformed into a disarray of greyness. He hauls his arm from the depths and drops it on the surface of the desks. He pinches the eraser head of his pencil and seizes from the depths. Lead meets paper, above a blue line. “...The night we spent on the Star Tip Bridge was great! I feel so happy around you. Your jokes are so funny. And any man who is as fascinated as I am with the architecture of Temple of Aether , is one I...”, Kwadjo’s fingers halt. “Damn it.” says Kwadjo, slamming his fists down on the table the water in the glass creeps over the rim of the cup onto the papers below. “Unbelievable. And they say waterboarding is torture.” Kwadjo turns to the glass of water and stares into the glass. “Would you torture

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someone? Would you?”. He asks, dropping his chin onto the sheet below. “Ow. ” The edges of his eyelids slowly approach, the sight of blue lines dissolve into a blue blur. The edge of his eyelids are tickled by his eyelids. Each breath brings the air deeper into his lungs. As his eyelids connect, and something claws into his shoulder, and immediately is thrust back and forth. His mind races back into the waking world. “Holy shit!”, cries Kwadjo as his eyelids thrust open, his chin launches from the surface of the desk, his back slams to the back of the chair, and the top of his knees slam against the underside of the desk. His head drives to the left, and his eyes look over his shoulder.

There is Marco tripping from side to side as his hand, unsteady before his lips, block saliva from his snicker. “Dude. Dude. H-How’s my favourite demon,...dude?”.

Kwadjo rubs his knees. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”.

Marco’s words become split by the laughter erupting from his mouth. “Sorry man...It’s

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j-just...I just wanted to know…”.

“How to kill someone while unarmed?”.
“Nah, nah, I just wanted to know if you down for some pizza.”.

Kwadjo furrows his brow. He then raises an eyebrow. “A-Are you kidding me? You almost gave me a heart attack…for some damn pizza?!”.

Marco shrugs. “Uh...I guess.”.

Kwadjo sighs and rolls his eyes, “I appreciate the offer, I really do, man, but I’m in the middle of something.”.

Marco leans against the window. The shine bled upon the edge of the desk disappears. He crosses his arms, and leans over toward the desk. “Like what, my man? Homework? Some evil spells?”.

“Nah, something better. It’s very life changing, man. And I gotta say, I find myself constantly working on it.”

Marco’s eyebrows prick up. He leans over to Kwadjo. “Woah, dude. Is it like...world changing stuff? Is...is it two-ply?”.

“It’s called a desk. For fuck's sake.”, says Kwadjo.

Marco chuckles. “Really? You look zombified. Must be some boring shit.”.

Kwadjo r

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Genres:

Comedy

Fantasy

Romance

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