I am sure I had done nothing wrong yet every night they came. For those five terrible nights I would watch in the moonlight with horror as each item in my bedroom glowed and melted into a meaningless blob which would quickly grow and rise up into the form of a demon that would stand staring at me with accusation.
Everything would do it- lamp, wardrobe, books, pictures, you name it: everything except for my bed and the mattress (even my bed clothes turned into small ones standing beside my prostrate body [and leaving me without sheets to hide behind]); and in their place would be these demons, each individually ugly in its own horned way.
Even the walls, door, window, carpet and floor would turn so that I was left in an impossible black space with these creatures standing solemnly in the moonlight and their stares everywhere I looked- hundreds of red eyes boring into my soul, all knowing what it was I had done.
But what had I done?
Naturally I asked them- time and again in fact until I was hoarse and gave up. They merely stood and continued their silent vigil informing me that I had done something and that that was enough.
After gaining virtually no sleep for five nights, I went to my temple and prayed, apologising over and over for every sin in existence that I could think of.
And away they went.
And still I have no idea what I had done.
Everything would do it- lamp, wardrobe, books, pictures, you name it: everything except for my bed and the mattress (even my bed clothes turned into small ones standing beside my prostrate body [and leaving me without sheets to hide behind]); and in their place would be these demons, each individually ugly in its own horned way.
Even the walls, door, window, carpet and floor would turn so that I was left in an impossible black space with these creatures standing solemnly in the moonlight and their stares everywhere I looked- hundreds of red eyes boring into my soul, all knowing what it was I had done.
But what had I done?
Naturally I asked them- time and again in fact until I was hoarse and gave up. They merely stood and continued their silent vigil informing me that I had done something and that that was enough.
After gaining virtually no sleep for five nights, I went to my temple and prayed, apologising over and over for every sin in existence that I could think of.
And away they went.
And still I have no idea what I had done.
Note: I once adapted this into a comic script (adding an explanation for the visits of the demons) and posted it on a forum but got too scared to ever return to see if anyone liked it or was interested enough to draw it up; this is it, though:
CLiNT Idea for Space Oddities “They Came At Night”? They Would Come At Night ?
Page One
Top half: A view from above of a man lying in bed, underneath his bedclothes, scared out of his wits; at what we cannot see, except perhaps for a glow as the items in his room begin to change.
Caption: “I had done nothing wrong yet every night they came.”
Bottom half:
A series of panels depicting items in his bedroom (a bedside lamp, perhaps, CD racks, bookcases, piles of junk on the floor, model cars or planes….) glowing with a green aura, then melting, turning into blobs on the ground that, by the end of the page, are starting to raise up into columns and take the rough shape of demons (they remian unsen in full form until the next page.
Drawings interspersed with the following captions:
“For those five terrible nights I would watch with horror…”
“…as each item in my bedroom glowed…”
“…and melted into a meaningless blob…”
“…that would quickly grow and rise up into…”
Page Two
Full page depicting the man on his bed, surrounded by demons, one for each item or collection of items that had been in his room before, except for his mattress and bedstand (his bedclothes and pillows have been replaced with small demons standing on the mattress. He has no discernible room around him, only pitch blackness (the windows, walls, carpet and floor having also been turned into demons), filled with this array of angry, accusing demons staring at him.
Caption at bottom: “…the demons that held a vigil around my bed, staring at me with accusation in their cold stares hundreds of red eyes boring into my soul, all knowing what it was I had done.”
Page Three
Top half: Small blank black panel with caption reading: “But what had I done?”
Larger panel filling the rest of the top half depicting the man kneeling up on his bed and pleading with the demons
(speech bubble reading: “WHAT IS IT?!? WHAT HAVE I DONE?!?”), whose only movement has been their eyes still transfixed on his.
Captions read: “Naturally I asked them why time and again, in fact, until I was hoarse and gave up.”
“They merely remained silent and still in the darkness.”
“I had done something and that was enough.”
Series of panels depicting man at various stages of his life committing small sins: perhaps stealing a slice of pie or something from the fridge, pushing someone down in the playground, stealing sweets from a shop or stationery from work, being slapped by a woman/teenage girl, his hand still on her breast…. the sorts of things that most men may have done... interspersed with the following captions:
“What was there in my history…
“…that could possibly result…”
“…in this horrible torture…”
“…I wracked my brains over and over…”
“… I came up with nothing that warranted this…”
Page Four
Series of five panels occupying the top third of the page depicting the man’s gradual deterioration following each night without sleep the eyes become more red, his stubble becomes thicker, the bags under his eyes grow with the accompanying caption underneath:
“…and spent the five nights becoming less of myself and more of a wreck. After gaining virtually no sleep in that time…”
The second third shows another strip of five panels showing the man in his final state, from the side, praying in a temple, calmly at first, but becoming more and more anxious, a growing number of candles in front of him with the accompanying caption underneath:
“...I went to my temple and prayed for hours, apologising over and over for every sin in existence that I could think of.”
The final third shows one picture, from above, of the man finally sleeping soundly in his bed with the accompanying captions above:
“And away they went.”
And underneath:
“To this day I have no idea what I had done.”
Page Five
A full page picture of the man’s parents seen from behind, knelt before the same altar or whatever as their son, a photograph of him is stood on the floor before them, a burning candle at it’s side, a speech bubble reads:
“We know that he is a good boy really, he just needs a little direction.”
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