The Flood and the Demon [Story #14]

I stare with plastic eyes at the demon on the other side of the world. It is yellow, smooth. It wears a tilted smirk across its orange mouth.

It’s been here for over a month now. Silent. Twin eyes pasted on me as I peer at it from the bow of my ship.

The mocking, the stares. I can hardly stand it.

When the twice-weekly deluge floods our world, the monster comes to life. Rollicking against the waves with drunken fury, it bashes itself against the hull of my ship again, again, again. Squeals of laughter peal across my painted ears; I do not know if it is the demon or our water god.

I am afraid, but I am fortunate. My companions are raftless and without the advantage of a sturdy ship to buoy them against the waves and the yellow monster’s lashes. I see them float past me, face down, ducking beneath the waves, then emerging. Sea horse has it okay, but the others are uncomfortable under the ocean’s surface; it’s no place for a giraffe or lady bug…

I shake the images of wave-tossed friends from my head. The land is dry now, silken. My boat is docked along the edge of the world, near my friend, Smith.

“Psst,” Smith says. He wrinkles a furry black nose. “Stop looking at it, Red Beard. There’s nothing you can do. It’s bigger than all of us. Stronger.”

“There’s nothing I can do,” I echo. “Not until the water comes, anyway.”

Silence between us.

“What’s on your mind, Red? You have a plan?”

“You might say that. You see—”

I pause and cock an ear. There’s a shuffling outside the world. A familiar sound of fabric falling—the precursor to our floods. “He’s here.” I whisper to Smith. “This is it, friend. We’ll be rid of the yellow demon once and for all.”

“Good luck, Red.”

With a squeak, our water god opens the spigot and our cue ball world begins to flood. My companions quake in fear and watch as the yellow demon rises. When the ground is but a memory, the water god pays us a visit. The demon leaps to life.

Rolling, undulating, speeding around the perimeter of the world, the yellow fiend knocks us over. Pop! Smash! Bang! He hits my ship and sends it spinning toward the deluge. Right where I need to be.

Another lap, I wait for the monster to spin toward me again. I see him rounding the curve, powered by the god himself. The staring eyes; the tilted smile. I grit my teeth and use the pouring water as a propeller, straight toward the monster’s oncoming form.

I rocket forward; the hull of my ship tilts. I clash with the demon head on.

For a second, I wonder if I’ve put on enough speed, if my momentum matched the monster’s.

It did. The yellow menace flies backwards, out of the flood, past the rim of our world. My companions burst forth with applause, exclamations, shouts of joy. They shuffle toward me to congratulate a job well done.

I nod at them and allow myself a smile. The demon is beyond the rim. How could he survive out there?

I pause my revelry and look up. The water god frowns his disapproval; the water stills. My companions notice a change drop across our world like a shadow; the air tastes serious and deadly. We wonder if we offended the water god for banishing his demon pet.

With a roar, the water god rises up. A pale giant. He stoops, stretches. Droplets fall off his skin and land on our faces, shoulders, hands. And then…a chill passes over my skin as I see what he’s doing. The water god retrieves the yellow demon from beyond the outer rim.

A collective gasp. A wail. Smith begins to cry. “No,” he blubbers, “it can’t be back. It can’t be alive…”

The water god brushes it off, reanimates the demon, sets it back in the water. But the mood has changed. The demon looks at us all, as if for the first time. Its cock-eyed grin is faded; it wears the look of someone who has survived a thousand tragedies. Pointedly, slowly, the demon nods at us.

We look at it curiously, then return the gesture. A mutual respect. An understanding that we, the companions, are a force to be reckoned with. The demon will back off; it will knock us with less vigor, less anger.

The water god is aware of a change among his underlings. During the rest of his bathing, the god is subdued, quiet. Eventually, he arises and drains our land of water. The light leaves our kingdom; peace settles over the lustrous white land.

Kate Bitters is a freelance writer, marketer, and author of Elmer Left and Ten Thousand Lines. She is writing a story a week in 2015-2016 on the Bitter Blog. Subscribe to follow her journey.

A note about this one: Did you figure out the setting? If you’re truly stumped, let me know in the comments and I’ll tell you what’s happening…eventually.