Silence Falls

Rooted within the Asylum, the racket of ancient titan-sized gears clank together in production, hidden in the dingy lighting. The slosh of water rebounded throughout the room as a black medieval torture cage emerged to the surface from the frigid dark watery pit below.

Several holy men nervously beheld it as one of the workers who managed the laundry of the deranged patients residing in the Asylum wrenched a lever down with all his might to direct the cage the last of the way up until it was suspended above the waters.

It had been many hours and not one of the men in robes had exited the room for any reason since the cage had been descended. They trusted the power of their faith was at its robust when they were all together, not apart. They could defeat this monster together, and they will.

The cage came to a sudden jerky halt to unearth a waterlogged lump of a demon’s body bound in black industrial chains on the circular floor, the same standardized chains you’d figure to come across in a hardwood store or around construction sites. No one said a word as they listened thoroughly to any sounds coming from the stagnant form, and inspected as closely as they safely could for any trace of life still tenaciously prospering within it.

But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing but the droplets of holy water trickling into the cold dark waters below from the doused cage.

Had they annihilated it?

Had they annihilated the demon?

One holy man stepped gallantly forward to the very brink of the ledge, away from his fellow associates. He was trying to get a better look at their adversary, and also to flaunt to his brethrens that his faith in God was solid and that he believed it would conserve him from this demon if he so much as glanced his way. He wouldn’t fail them. He wouldn’t show vulnerability to the Devil. His faith was pure.

According to what he could deduce from where he stood, the demon didn’t appear to be breathing at all. His chest wasn’t moving, his entire frame was bereft of life.

Had they done it, he couldn’t help but wonder to himself?

Had they so easily vanquished the very demon terrorizing the swamps of this religious town for centuries just like that?

What the group had surmised was going to be the most challenging demonic exorcism of their lifetimes ended up lasting only a few measly hours.

Perhaps they had been correct all along. Perhaps they were much stronger together than apart.

The brethens behind the valiant priest all let out an ensemble of alleviated sighs and began to turn to each other to shake hands and commend their hard work in defeating God’s greatest foes.

The priest still examining the body squinted down at the demon’s pale hand that had been loosely curled around the bar of his cage before he was immersed under the waters blessed by them. His hand was of porcelain white, and looked beautifully pristine against the severe corrosion of the cage.

Believing it was safe to touch it now that the demon was deceased, the heroic priest reached out to lightly brush the lifeless man’s cold fingers.

In a speed that hadn’t been predicted, the priest found himself captured by a steel-like grip on his wrist from the demon’s own hand. His eyes widened down at what he thought to be departed had now apprehended him like a prey to a hunter. Unable to think of what to do about it, the Priest let out a cry to notify his brothers of his arrest before slowly raising his eyes to meet the blue and green eyes of his subduer.

Hermanni’s mask was veiled by his long black wet hair, but his glowing eyes were striking through two black holes that hadn’t been there previously before. The mask had been constructed without any incisions or gaps for good reason, and that reason was unfolding before them right now.

The other holy men swiveled around to witness the catastrophe and bounced back from their companion as the very flesh on his wrist began to deteriorate beneath the white squeeze of the demon’s restraint.

The group was petrified, their elderly frames frozen in place where they were huddled together in fear.

The lone priest began to howl as his flesh decomposed, his blood-curdling cries ringing outside of the dungeon itself, all the way down the halls and through the stairwells. His screams intermingled with the few surviving patients that were still clinging on to what little life they had left before their time ran out too.

The Asylum buzzed with the screams and cries of the damned.

As the rest of the Priest’s body began to seep away in full speed of a decaying corpse before their eyes, the holy men all snapped their heads in the opposite direction in revulsion, not wishing to have this memory imprinted behind their eyes for their remaining days. Instead, they choose to take shelter behind the folds of the sleeves of their religious garbs.

Still, they couldn’t block out the howling no matter how much they prayed. To drop their sleeves and attend their comrade wasting away was unbearable...just as unbearable as hearing his screams.

Long after the screams had finally ceased, the priests gradually peeked out from behind their sleeves to see a little of ivory skeletal remnants that belonged to none other than their brother. They all gasped and leapt back from the remains, their mouths hanging open as they floundered aimlessly on their feet like a flock of headless chickens.

Chaos had flared up between them.

The glow of green and blue eyes dulled behind the mask until there was nothing but darkness within the holes. The chest rose and fell underneath the anacondas of chains encompassing him, but not a word was uttered.

No demonic cackles in boastful triumphs at eliminating a member of their church.

No demonic curses spat with the vow of retribution against them.

Somehow finding the spirit no else had, the laundry worker single-handedly came out from his hiding spot in a corner and fearfully shoved the lever up before the demon could do anything else to any of them. They were saved as the demon’s cage was once again expelled beneath the black holy waters.