Waiting Room

Aspen Grove

Monotonous rhythm of nothingness. An ordinary waiting room in an ordinary office. People coming, people going. Most are sheep, without purpose or worth. Waiting to ripen for slaughter. Following orders and hoping for satisfaction. Rare energy materializes cloaked to move freely amongst sheep. Only I can see it, sense it, know it. I know you instantly. You look like all the others and yet you are nothing truly like them. You smile and make pleasantry, a form of camouflage.

I can see it behind your eyes. Peeking out as you move your gaze. It crouches and hides so it may operate without being noticed. Wretched demon! A primitive beast groaning its commands within you. It must be pulled, extracted if you will. The only way to rid you of this foul creature. You are a sack of flesh without this ancient being within. You, the outer you, are a farce. Foolish if I become mesmerized by this outer shell, the robe of flesh that mimics normal. Intoxication by the theatrical display of normalcy, this would be my demise. A grand distraction that moves the eyes off the foul one and mesmerizes with familiarity of a human form. It survives by tricking others with this human cloak. I must stay focused. Must watch your every move, wicked one. I must not distract from your primordial ripening, the slouching forth from putrid gestation. Now crouched in filth, ready to stir chaos. Others perceive you not. My awareness spurs on your wicked impulses. I can feel you watching me in return. Psychically connected, each being aware and observing the other. To remove my gaze would end in my flesh torn asunder. I must be quick and crafty. I must destroy you so that I may live. To do this I must sacrifice the worthless robe so that the master within may be extracted and bound.

They call your name, it's your turn. As you pass, I offer a smile. Friendliness has nothing to do with this. The smile comes from knowing that a simple rock will extract that from within you. With scarlet spray, I bind you to the sacred stone. The ancient demon must obey its binding. Leashed to the stone and stored beneath aspens. One of a multitude. A grove for worship and pleasure.