Orenda

Imma and I sit on her soft bed. Imma is 5'5” and the embodiment of “thick thighs save lives.” She is dark skinned and fat. Imma usually wears her hair in a thick bun. Her dreadlocks are dyed a beautiful ombre. Her roots are black, but fades to a plum color as it reaches the tips. Imma wears glasses over her beautiful dark brown eyes. She has a few piercings on her ears. My favorite is her daith piercing. Imma tends to have really bad migraines and had gotten it to help with them. I remember her saying she liked the look a lot and that if it really did help with her headaches, it would just be a bonus.
I remember in high school when I practically lived at Imma's house. Her walls that were once a pastel purple are a light green color and what were slightly barren are now covered with modern pieces of art. More furniture has taken up space and a large television hangs on the wall.
“So today was your last day?” Imma asks, taking a bite from the burger I brought her.
“Yeah,” I say, plopping some fries in my mouth.
“Do they really let you take this food home?” Imma asks.
“Yeah, my manager said we'd have to throw the food away anyway,” I say. That was a lie. I totally payed $10 to feed her.
“Thanks!” Imma says, plopping some fries into her mouth, “I'll miss the free grub you always got though.”
“Yeah,” I laugh, “It was pretty good.”
“What you don't have to miss is that fucking guy,” Imma says, “What was his name? Rolf?”
“Yeah, that's his name,” I say.
“Did he say anything to you today?” She asks.
“I pretty much ignored him after he said pizza was gross,” I say.
“He said pizza was gross?” Imma asks.
“Yeah, it was strange,” I say, “I mean, he's entitled to his opinions and feel the way he does but he says it in a way where he acts as though all other opinions are wrong.”
“He's a white dude,” Imma says.
“You right,” I say.
“Wait, so did you really want to go into that abandoned building?” Imma asks, “Because I'm totally up for it if you are.”
“Yeah, why not,” I say. There is a house down the street from Imma's home which went up in flames years ago. No one's really lived in it for a while. I guess it's too much work to fix up again. There's still burn marks covering the front of the house. Imma and I have always wanted to go inside it and see what's up, but we never really have.
After we eat, we grab some flashlights and take a walk down the street. It's incredible how the feeling of nostalgia can hit you at any given moment. Imma uses her flashlight and makes a llama shadow with her hand.
“Do you remember when we were with Maxine and we prank called that one really annoying girl?” Imma asks.
“Yeah,” I laugh, “I don't know how she thought we were her boyfriend.” I shine the light over the door of the abandoned house. The originally white building is now a dull gray. The paint on the outside is chipping off and the foundation looks as if it's cracking. We climb up the steps and look around the porch. Graffiti is written across the large wooden panel nailed over the door.
“How do you think we're gonna get in?” I ask.
“We can check in the back to see if there are those basement windows,” Imma says.
“Basement windows?” I ask.
“Yeah, windows for the basement,” Imma repeats, “People climb through them all the time in movies.”
“Yeah, okay,” I say.
Imma and I go down the steps and circle to the back. The gate to the fence wasn't locked so we just walk right in. The grass is unkept and looks as if the velociraptors from Jurassic Park are hiding in it. A little cement path leads you to the back door. It's slightly ajar. I shine my flashlight over it and ask, “You wanna take this way instead?”
“Why do you think it's open?” Imma asks.
“You think kids are in there doing pot?” I suggest.
“Yo, they better share!” Imma laughs, charging forward. I giggle and follow her into the building.
The inside isn't anything pretty either. Imma was right when she said the building had caught on fire. Everywhere you look is black and charred. Garbage is littered across the floor from guests who decided to stay the night. The floor creeks with each step you take... we're not moving... is someone else in here?
“Did you want to go upstairs?” Imma asks.
“Do you think the stairs will hold?” I ask, flashing the beam of light on the broken down steps.
“We should be fine,” Imma says, “Just watch your step.”
“I appreciate that pun, but I also don't,” I laugh.
We walk upstairs and it looks no better than the downstairs. Graffiti plasters the walls and bottles are scattered across the floor. It's honestly hard to walk without bumping into one. We walk down the narrow hallway and into an old bedroom. There's a hole in the floor. When you look down into it, you can see whats left of the stove.
“What do we have here?” A voice asks. Aw fuck. Imma and I turn around. At the door is a tall looking man stands at the door. He doesn't look particularly muscular but that doesn't mean we can drop our guards.
“Hey, sorry, man,” Imma says, “We didn't know you stay here. We can leave now if you want.”
“Oh no,” He laughs, “You won't be going anywhere.”
Rolf stands in the backyard of the burnt, abandoned building. He's with his friends, Maude and Derrick. Maude is 5'7” with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. He's so skinny you can see his ribs. Derrick is 5'9” with long, wavy brown hair. Glasses cover his brown eyes and a cigarette is placed between is middle and index finger.
“Can we hurry up? I want to light this friggen' thing,” Derrick huffs, twirling the cigarette.
“Well don't light it now,” Rolf says, “It can smell those.”
“Do you think this place burnt down because someone didn't put their cigarette out?” Maude asks. Rolf puts his hand up. Derrick and Maude stare at him awkwardly until Rolf places his hand back down.
“Did you hear that?” Rolf asks.
“The grass blowing in the wind?” Derrick asks.
“No, I think someone is in there,” Rolf says.
“Who would be in there?” Derrick asks.
“Have you ever seen a horror movie?” Maude asks.
“Come on, we don't want whoever that is getting hurt,” Rolf says, walking into the building. Derrick and Maude follow him.
The boys scan the area with their flashlights. Before they get to check out the area, a large crashing noise is heard upstair. The boys run upstairs and look for the source of the noise.
Rolf hears a noise from the last room on the left. He pushes the door in, bottle of holy water clutched in his hand, and yells, “I'll save you!” His momentum is easily crushed when he sees the person on the ground with me standing over him. The person lays on his stomach with my foot putting pressure between his shoulder blades. I have both of his arms stretched back behind him.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
“...You... Don't need saving?” Rolf asks.
“Why would I need saving?” I ask, “I just beat the shit out of this dude for trying to start something.”
“Do you have a rope we can use to tie him up?” Imma asks, “We'd rather do that than hold him like this while we wait for the authorities.”
“You called the cops?” Derrick huffs, charging into the room.
“Not yet,” Imma says, “We wanted to tie him up then leave so we don't get caught trespassing.”
“Don't call the cops,” Derrick orders.
“What is this your buddy?” I ask.
“He's a demon,” Derrick says.
“You're subtle,” Maude says from the doorway, “How did you get him down like that?”
“Nah and I took karate!” Imma enthuses.
“I work out,” I say, “Demon? I mean this guy was rude bu-”
“No, like an actual demon,” Rolf sighs.
“Nah?” Maude asks, “The same Nah that was the fry cook at the place Rolf works at?”
“The same,” I say, “What do you mean an actual demon?”
“Like, 'holy water hurts me' kind of demon,” Maude says.
“Yes, the Hell kind,” Derrick huffs.
“Why are you guys bent on saying I'm from Hell?” the demon asks, voice strained.
“Shut the fuck up!” Derrick yells.
“Hey, don't talk to him like that!” Imma yells.
“He's a demon!” Derrick yells.
“I'll let him after you if you keep yelling at my best friend,” I shout.
“You wouldn't dare,” Derrick says, anger bubbling out.
“Derrick, take a breather,” Rolf orders.
“Fuck you, I don't have to listen to you!” Derrick snaps.
“Come on, dude,” Maude sighs, motioning for Derrick to leave the room with him. Derrick glares at Imma, Rolf, and I then leaves.
“Sorry about that...” Rolf says after a few minutes.
“Do you have a rope?” I ask, “My arms are getting tired.”
“I have holy water,” Rolf offers.
“Are you gonna exorcise him?” Imma asks. Rolf nods and uncaps a clear bottle. It looks almost identical to the bottle of holy water I wanted to buy as a joke at a witch store. That joke would have come in clutch tonight.
Rolf sprays the demon with holy water, each droplet sizzling on the demon's skin. Rolf chants what I assume is the latin version of a Hail Mary. At first it didn't work. Between each Mary, Rolf sprays the demon with more holy water and recites the chant once again. The demon's screams get louder and more twisted with each verse. It took about five Mary's to exorcise the demon. The demon's eyes roll to the back of his skull and his arms go limp. I gently place the limbs on the floor. The person's breathing is slow and shallow.
“Will he be okay?” Imma asks, “Should we wait for him to wake up?”
“Nah, he'll be fine,” Rolf says, waving away her suggestion, “I would like you guys, however, to come by my house.”
“Why?” I ask.
“I'm sure you have a lot of questions,” Rolf answers.
“I mean, I guess,” I reply.
“Awesome!” Rolf says, “...Do you have a car?”
“I have a motorcycle,” I say.
“...Oh boy...” Rolf sighs.