72 Pillar

I couldn't tell if what I was feeling happened to be relief that I wasn't one of these monsters or sadness that I didn't have an awesome world-destroying demon inside of me. The world that Madelyn and her grandfather were talking about just seemed so grand and amazing that maybe, somewhere deep down, I wanted to be a part of it. Crazy, right?

The old man, probably sensing the disappointment on my face, spoke up. "Being a Pillar is not easy, young man. It takes commitment and responsibility. It is a life of loneliness, disappointment, and, of course, loss. Be very careful what you wish your life to be because you may get your wish," he cautioned.

"Do I even want to know what that means?" I muttered, my eagerness to go home growing.

"It means that you are still in danger," the old man stated.

"What! But you just said..."

"That you are not a pillar," Madelyn's grandfather clarified, his arms crossed. "But the truth is we are not sure."

I exchanged puzzled glances between the old man and Madelyn. They looked at me as if I were the frog I had dissected for my 7th-grade science project – a mix of disgust and fascination, and neither seemed particularly good for me.

"How could you not be sure?" I asked, my irritation growing.

The old man remained silent, his gaze unwavering. I started to feel embarrassed, my shyness at its peak.

"Take a look at my granddaughter," the old man calmly suggested, and my heart skipped a beat. I had been granted permission to look at the girl of my dreams, and I couldn't pass up that opportunity.

I slowly turned my head towards Madelyn, attempting to remain calm and collected. "Ok, Ethan, calm down, please don't embarrass yourself," I thought, trying to keep my cool as my eyes landed on the girl of my dreams.

"Oh my gosh, she's seriously drop-dead gorgeous," my thoughts were racing as I continued to stare.

"What's catching your eye?" the old man's voice yanked me out of my lovesick daze.

Without any hesitation, I locked onto Madelyn once more, and like déjà vu, I spotted it.

"There's this creepy black mist swirling around her," I stammered, shivers racing down my spine as I gazed into the abyss.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the eerie spectacle before me. The dark mist seemed to have a life of its own, undulating and swirling around her with an unsettling grace. Its tendrils reached out like ghostly fingers, as if searching for something or someone. It was as if the very air had turned malevolent, suffocating the room with its sinister presence.

"The fact that you can see that mist? It's like proof that you're not your everyday human," the old man revealed, striking fear into my heart.

"Seeing it isn't even the real issue," he continued, his tone graver than a haunted graveyard.

"The real deal is that there are only two types of beings that can conjure up such a sinister aura. One's a demon, and the other's a pillar," the old man stated.

"And you, Mr. Brumfield, you seem to be in that same eerie club," he added, taking me by complete surprise.

I quickly scanned my surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of that same darkness surrounding me, but no matter where I looked, there was nothing. Was the old man losing his marbles?

"You should stop trying to find it. Only those who have control of  the demon inside of themselves can see its aura," Madelyn's grandfather chuckled.

I couldn't deny that I was a bit peeved by being laughed at by an old man, but I clenched my teeth and tried not to let it bother me.

"So, what are you trying to say? That I'm a demon?" I retorted, a hint of attitude in my voice.

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence as once again, I became the center of attention. I really just wanted to get out of there.

The old man turned to his granddaughter and ordered, "Show him."

Madelyn, in response to her grandfather's command, tilted her head to the side and used her left hand to sweep her long blond hair away from the left side of her neck. There on her neck, a brand was etched into her flesh, and the mere sight of it sent shivers down my spine.

"What is this?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"This mark is what makes me a pillar," Madelyn explained.

"Every pillar has one, somewhere on their bodies, a mark infused into their flesh," the old man added.

"Oh, man..." I muttered, realizing where this was heading.

"Yes, exactly. You, Mr. Brumfield, do not have a mark anywhere on your body. We checked while you were sleeping," the old man revealed.

I couldn't help but feel violated, the idea that these people I barely knew had examined my body while I was sleeping sent my blood pressure through the roof. Madelyn, inspecting every nook and cranny of my body, was a thought that made me extremely uncomfortable.

"Mr. Brumfield, I want to officially welcome you into the House of Bathin," the old man said with a smile.

"That name again," I remembered Madelyn mentioning it earlier.

"That name," Madelyn softly echoed, her tone heavy with significance.

"That name belongs to one of the 72 demons sealed away by Solomon himself."

The aura around Madelyn seemed to grow more powerful. "I am the 18th pillar; my demon is the demon of dimensions and travel..."

"My demon is Bathin."

As I reminisced about this morning, the image of the girl I had encountered flooded my thoughts.

Her crimson eyes pierced through me, devoid of warmth or humanity, etching themselves into my memory. The echo of her laughter lingered in my mind, haunting yet strangely captivating.

With a shiver, I couldn't help but ponder: Was she my personal demon, manifesting in the light of day?

***

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