Addiction Demons - MWBB

When I wrote for last week's Mid-Week Blues-Buster song, it was in a bit of a rush. I had an opening scene, but I stumbled over the story until I decided where he was going, then it came to me. It took some fiddling and some stop and starting, and due to the time constraints it didn't feel like it flowed right, but it caught the attention of the judge and seemed to go down well. Due to the low amount of entrants - just five - there was only a Winner and an Honourable Mention - and I snagged the HM, so I am really pleased with that.

The prompt song this week was:

 Still Life, by Ironmaiden

Lucius sat upright - rigid, sweat pouring down his face, the rasp of his breath heavy in his own ears. His eyes were wide in the darkened room, but shadows still danced on the wall in front of him.

He could hear the guitar from down below, its high pitch twine probably what had woken him, pulling him away from the demons. They were there every night the second he closed his eyes; calling to him, wanting him, but he wouldn’t do it, he wouldn’t go to them. He refused to join them again.

But as he got his racing heart under control, the movement in front of him didn’t stop. They ran circles on the wall, trying to draw his eye. He flicked back the sheets, refusing to be pulled in; they’d had as much of his attention as he would give them tonight.

He pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, and ran down the stairs, taking a passing glimpse at the party going on; the girls looking spaced out at this late hour, the boys trying to keep them alive with alluring dance moves that made no sense to the music.

The cold air hit him as he opened the front door, sparking the muttering deep in the recesses of his mind. He knew when he got there he could calm them and at least bring peace for the rest of the night.

Lucius paced himself as he went into the night-lit park, not letting the urge to run take over; knowing the route by heart, having taken it more and more often over the past month. They were getting stronger, their pull on him greater - but he still had the last word.

He could see the night light twinkle off the surface through the trees, and he approached the water, feeling the release. He crouched at the edge and touched the surface, the icy depths running up his fingers and stilling his mind.

They didn’t like it, the clarity cutting them off – or was it the purity?

He cupped his hand and sipped at the captured water. With each swallow he felt cleansed and purified. He didn’t know what it was about this body of water – it didn’t work with any others - but this one brought the stillness he sought. The mutterings stopped.

It crossed his mind that there was something in it, maybe he was swapping one addiction for another, but it was a public park; this expanse of water ran right through it and many animals and birdlife fed off it. It could be the ritual that brought calm.

Lucius felt whole once more and stood, stretching. But as he turned to go he glimpsed a figure in the distance, illuminated in the dark by its white clothing. His curiosity took him towards it, and he realised it was a statue; its smooth white surface reflecting all the light – particularly the expanse of its wings.

The angel stood on the opposite bank, its arms outstretched, looking down at the water. He wondered why he had never noticed it before, having been here so often in the past month, although he was always distracted when he arrived, whether day or night, his mind plagued by the demons.

But what struck him was how the water appeared to be flowing through its hands, as though coming from within it, and blessing it.