The Influence (Supernatural Thriller) Read online

  She hated leaving Mark alone when he was as depressed as he was. “I’ll be fine,” he had said in his usual confident voice. “Don’t worry about me. I know I’m struggling, but, really, don’t worry. I’ll be okay. Besides, it will probably be good for me to be alone. Go help your dad. He needs you.”

  Mark’s words didn’t make her feel any better. The only thing that eased her conscience was to insist that he at least take a vacation while she was gone. It was the only way she could feel halfway decent about leaving. Mark again scoffed at the idea but Kathy was determined. And after a few hours, he reluctantly agreed. Besides, he had vacation time coming and it was slow at work. So, after a quick call to the boss, Mark had two weeks off of work and she was on her way to see her father.

  She looked in the rearview mirror. The traffic was sparse.

  She drove on, oblivious to the invisible, winged creature sitting in the back seat.

  ***

  Mark had been sitting quietly in the gazebo for two hours, staring blankly at nothing, listening to the wind move through the trees, and hearing the water trickling over the rocks in the small stream that flowed through his garden. This was his retreat, his place to relax. But he couldn’t. His frustration and anger had robbed him of peace and left him feeling numb. It’s probably a reaction to the prolonged frustration and stress, he thought. He didn’t care. He liked not feeling anything.

  Mark ran his fingers through his hair. His shirt tightened against his shoulders as he moved. He rubbed his face with his hands and heard the whiskers scrape against them. He let his hands fall onto his lap, then he looked up and saw the sunlight filtering through a tree. He squinted before looking away.

  There was a tangled mass of vines that snaked under some nearby bushes. He focused on the jumbled twisted trail of dirty grays and browns as it struggled in the shadowy underbrush. “That’s my life,” he said into the air.

  Over the months his frustration had grown into anger. His anger led to resentment and resentment to self-condemnation as he realized his failure to find the answers to the questions echoing in his heart and mind.

  He clenched his fists and gently pounded on his thighs. A rose moved softly in the breeze, catching his attention. He noticed the sweet scent as it wafted through the air.

  From the corner of his eye, a small butterfly glided by, turned, and landed on the flower. In the past, such a subtle event would have delighted him, but not now. His emotions were as empty as his stare. Then the butterfly flew off. Mark did not follow it. Instead, he continued with his same numb gaze as he looked at the bloom without really seeing it.

  “Life is useless and meaningless,” he said in a monotone.

  He continued to stare. The rose was a brilliant red, perfectly formed. Mark got up and without taking his eyes off it he walked out of the gazebo, calmly reached down, and tore it from the stem. A thorn drew blood.

  Once back in the gazebo he sat down, opened his hand, and let the rose fall into his palm as he coldly examined it. Then, unexpectedly, the same butterfly suddenly appeared and landed on a petal. It was a soft white creature, delicate and light.

  Mark considered them both and discovered he wanted to crush the life from both the flower and insect. A hateful act, but one that might make him feel something. The white butterfly slowly opened and closed its wings, gracefully probing the flower, oblivious to the danger. Mark closed his hand. He felt the wings momentarily flutter against his fingers as he squeezed it into stillness. He turned his palm downward and let both fall to the ground.

  He stared back at the bush, found another flower, and considered plucking it as well. Then he looked back to the ground. One of the butterfly’s wings moved. Mark could also see a couple of legs stirring. That’s when he felt a twinge of unexpected remorse. It caught him off guard. But at least it was something. He stared at the wing as it moved more and more slowly, until it finally ceased all movement. A soft breeze dragged the corpse a couple of inches.

  He exhaled hard, gritted his teeth, and clenched his eyelids together. For hours he had been alone, thinking about his life, thinking about Jacob, Kathy, and all his unanswered questions. He realized that for weeks he had been trying to bury all the frustration somewhere deep inside. He thought he had it under control and neatly tucked away. But he knew he had only been fooling himself and it was time to face the inevitable collapse of his willpower. There was too much frustration, anger, and remorse to keep buried indefinitely.

  He opened his eyes. They were filling with tears. He blinked them away.

  “No,” he muttered in defiance.

  He clenched his fists. “No.”

  He dropped his face into his hands and after a pause softly said, “No.”

  He slid off his seat and onto his knees for a full minute, waiting.

  “I’m so tired,” he finally said quietly.

  He was tired, very tired. His prideful stubbornness was worn out and he knew it. So he did the only thing left to do. He gave up and let everything cave in on him.

  It began with a single, long groan. He slammed his fists into the wood slats again and choked out wails. His sobbing filled the garden. Saliva ran from his lips and mingled with the mucus that dripped from his nose.

  He hated what was happening. He despised the fact that he had grown weak and vulnerable through the prolonged suffering of unanswered questions. The struggle was too much, too exhausting. He pounded on the wood flooring again and again and forced out one word over and over, “Why? Why? Why?”

  He dropped his face downward until his head rested on the wood. He cried loudly and welcomed the hard, gut-wrenching convulsions of release. The tears dropped from his face and the moaning cries he hurled into the garden were muffled by the breeze moving through the leaves that only seemed to applaud his pain. He wept. He sobbed and he pounded the flooring with his fists and spat the snot from his mouth.

  His wailing went on for several minutes before it finally began to subside, surrendering reluctantly. Mark fought to regain his composure by clenching his teeth.

  His back hurt from the strain. His open mouth was dripping saliva. And when he tried to look through his wet eyes, he saw only diffused and blurry forms. He tried to blink them clear and waited until he felt stronger so he could force his crying to stop. He did. Then after another minute, he managed to sit up on his knees and wipe his eyes. A remnant of exhaustion forced his breath to shudder as he inhaled. He knelt there on the ground and waited until it finally seemed to be over.

  He thought about Kathy. He was glad she was not there to see him like this. Then he looked down to the tear and snot-stained wood. Both the butterfly and the flower were gone. He closed his eyes once more.

  A few feet away stood the dark monster, silently and imperceptibly studying Mark. Its black eyes locked menacingly on him as it took a single step closer.

  Mark, oblivious to the creature, battled his own fatigue and let himself collapse onto the floor of the gazebo, rolling onto his back. “I do not want to go through this anymore. I have to have answers.” The leftover tears rolled down over his ears.

  The monster unfolded its wings, raised them above its head, and spread them wide. A dark shadow, undetectable to Mark, covered most of the gazebo as well as him. The beast leaned forward and gurgled out four, intense words. “I will kill you.” It lowered its wings and took another step.

  Mark stared out at the trees and momentarily enjoyed a soft breeze that touched his face. Exhausted, he whispered into the air, “I hate this. I don’t care what it takes. I want out of this pain.”

  The creature listened.

  Mark lay there for a few minutes recovering.

  It studied the man. Countless centuries of dealing with humans had taught it to pay attention to tears, the tone of voice, breathing, heartbeat, position of the body, and most importantly, the words. The creature calculated as it examined its prey.

  Finally, Mark sat up and forced himself into a seat. He exhaled hard and wiped his eyes ag
ain. He felt better after the release of the emotional outburst.

  The creature brought its wings closer to its leathery body and took several short steps forward. It began to crouch down as it approached, stopping a few feet away. It reached out its clawed skeletal hand and placed it over Mark’s chest, careful not to touch him. The creature waited. After a few seconds, its mouth formed a contorted grin and it stepped even closer. It extended its left hand towards Mark’s head and raised a single finger that bore a two-inch long talon. The creature repositioned itself and then slowly extended the talon into Mark’s right temple.

  He felt nothing.

  The demon reached further in, very carefully searching.

  Mark sat motionless in the seat, resenting how he had lost control. He was disgusted with himself and the situation.

  “I can’t take this anymore,” he said.

  The demon twisted its claw and suddenly a wave of peace brushed through Mark’s mind. It caught him off guard.

  The creature moved the claw a little more.

  The feeling of great peace spread throughout his mind as Mark exhaled slowly. It felt good. He savored it. Mark thought that this was probably the physiological result of an emotional release. Nonetheless, he enjoyed it.

  The demon tweaked Mark’s mind a little more and the peaceful sensation grew stronger. He let himself feel it as he relaxed his body and closed his eyes for a few seconds.

  The demon carefully reached with its other skeletal hand and extended a second claw into Mark’s mind. It searched carefully for a moment before it found what it was looking for.

  Mark began to lose focus. He exhaled slowly and his breathing grew shallow. He was puzzled by the feeling but he didn’t care. Yes, thought Mark. Yes.

  The creature knelt down next to him, careful not to displace the claws. It came closer, drawing its mouth nearer to Mark’s. Then it synchronized its breath with his. As he exhaled, it inhaled. As he inhaled, it exhaled.

  Mark felt the peace deepen. He welcomed it. His muscles involuntarily relaxed. He let his hands drop to his sides. His head wavered slightly. There were no more tears, just restful peace.

  The creature moved its claw a little further and Mark’s mind fell deeper and deeper into the comfort.

  Then it moved, brought its lips to Mark’s ear, and spoke into his mind, “Rest, rest.” Mark had a sensation of words, but there were no words. He could not focus on them, but he felt them.

  The creature whispered into his ear again and Mark heard his own thoughts. “You are a good person. You don’t need to suffer like this. It isn’t your fault.”

  The sensation of language seemed to echo within him as the creature continued to speak. Mark, exhausted and weak, let himself listen. He wanted to.

  “You have been robbed of the goodness you deserve.”

  The creature gently and purposefully moved one of its clawed hands, searching for the place in Mark’s brain that released endorphins. This was an old trick that required a subtle movement.

  It spoke again, slowly. “What do you think will happen if your pain continues? What will your wife think as you become less and less of a man?”

  With that, the demon skillfully tweaked Mark’s mind with a talon from its other appendage. Mark felt shame. The creature moved deeper into Mark’s mind and manipulated it again. Mark felt indignity flush through him. He moved uncomfortably, recoiling from the feeling. Mark loathed the idea that Kathy would surely grow to despise him in his weakness. His body tensed and his breathing quickened.

  The creature let Mark feel it for a few seconds and then manipulated his mind again. “You don’t deserve the hell you have been going through. You are a good man.”

  Mark began to relax as the peace slowly returned at the manipulative hand of the demon. I am good, Mark thought to himself.

  “You have a good heart.” The words continued in his mind. “You are a good man. You are a great man who deserves to have his best life now.”

  Mark felt himself agreeing. The creature smiled in mockery.

  “You need to help yourself. There is a way. There is an answer.”

  The false peace that Mark felt was growing with every manipulation and word that entered his mind. He had never felt anything like it before. It was wonderful, blissful. He wanted more of it, so he let his mind fall further into its comfort, hypnotized by the creature’s masterful skills.

  “You deserve peace and rest.” The creature knew Mark wanted to hear the words. “You need rest. You must free yourself. You need peace. You need rest.” The demon tweaked the pleasure center of Mark’s mind and he felt a wave of pleasure, but this time it was mixed with a sensation of security and safety. Mark wanted it. He savored the sensation.

  “Do you want peace?” asked the creature.

  “Yes,” spoke Mark softly from his altered state of consciousness.

  “Release yourself. Release yourself to me.”

  Mark relaxed. He closed his eyes.

  “Good,” whispered the creature into Mark’s mind. It studied him. Mark was now in a trancelike state, open to suggestion, easily controlled. Mark heard more words.

  “It is not wrong to want peace. It is good. You have been through enough misery.”

  The creature looked around. There was a small storage shed at the edge of the garden. The door was open and in it a rope hung on a hook. It devised a quick plan and looked back at Mark. The demon moved its claw within Mark’s brain and searched for that place where despair and misery reside. He wanted to know what was in Mark, but it was careful not to hurry. It leaned down towards him and gently moved a claw. Mark felt despair. Then it whispered a single word into Mark’s mind. “Suicide.” With that, it delicately caressed pleasure into Mark’s mind as it repeatedly whispered, “Suicide. Suicide. Suicide.”

  Mark felt pleasure with every word. The creature moved its other clawed hand further into Mark’s mind.

  “Suicide,” whispered Mark to himself.

  “Find the rest you seek. Find the peace. Get the rope from the shed.”

  Somehow suicide made sense. He opened his eyes and looked towards the storage shed.

  “No fear.” Mark listened. The monster moved its claw and said, “Feel the truth in your heart. Do what is right for yourself. Visualize the victory of choice. Don’t worry. It will be okay. Free yourself. Listen to your heart.”

  Mark was weak and vulnerable. There was no alarm, no anxiety. The creature was dampening his instinct for self-preservation, an easy accomplishment after Mark’s emotional breakdown.

  Suicide, he thought, as the demon caressed his mind so he would feel good each time he thought of it.

  Mark closed his eyes and relished the idea, half awake, half unaware. He looked down the path in the garden that came to a fork. To the right was the house; to the left, the shed.

  The creature caressed his mind and whispered, “Get up.”

  Mark stood up.

  “Get the rope.” The words were so much a part of Mark now that he didn’t question them. He began to walk towards the shed. The creature moved with him.

  “Good,” came the words deep within him. “Good.”

  As Mark moved toward the shed, there were no thoughts about the purpose of life, Jacob, Kathy, or self-preservation. They had been pushed away by the calm and peaceful manipulation of the demon. Nothing mattered now. He felt only the need to commit suicide. It seemed so right. The creature continued to caress Mark’s mind. It felt good.

  With a slow and determined walk, Mark headed out of the garden. He passed the small stream and approached the shed. Just inside, hanging on a hook, was the rope. He carefully lifted it, turned, and began his short journey back.

  The creature walked carefully beside him, still caressing his mind.

  There were two large trees in the garden. Mark headed for one on the left.

  The creature started to speak again. Mark heard the words in his mind as if they were his own. “I need peace and rest. It will be so easy. I
will use the rope and my problems will end.” With every word came peace, blessed peace. It was all so clear to him now.

  He looked up to find a limb. He felt the rope in his fingertips and looked down at it to get the feel of its weight. He held one coil of rope in one hand and with the other launched it into the air and over the limb. It tumbled down on the other side and dangled in front of his face. He needed to secure the other end to something solid.

  “The gazebo,” came the words.

  Mark found a supporting post and tied the loose end to it. Near the tree was a small boulder.

  “Stand on it.”

  Mark moved towards it.

  “Peace is coming.”

  The demon subtly moved its hand deeper into Mark’s mind and whispered, “Good. This is what must be done. This is good.”

  ***

  The demon watched Kathy from the back seat of her car. It was a dark green form of bones and loose skin that appeared wet, but it wasn’t, and when it moved it creaked like wet leather. There were occasional open wounds with small crawling infestations that glistened in the sunlight. Jagged bones protruded here and there in a disjointed pattern and occasionally broke through the skin. Its eyes were black and two long, sharp ears jutted backwards. It examined her.

  Kathy nervously glanced in the rearview mirror and back to the road. She took a long breath.

  The creature leaned forward slowly. It opened its mouth and extended its tongue. Saliva dripped and fell to the floorboard. In its mouth were rows of jagged and rotting fangs. It hissed.

  It leaned forward some more and drew close to the back of Kathy’s skull. Wider and wider it gaped until its jaw dislodged with a pop, just large enough to engulf her entire head. But the creature stopped, closed its eyes, and shuddered in a perverse pleasure. Then it withdrew. It was not able to kill her that way. So, it closed its mouth as it sat back in the seat and hissed again.

  Kathy did not know why, but she felt uneasy and glanced to the rearview mirror several times as she looked around to see where other cars were. Everything was fine, but she could not shake the sudden uneasiness.