I'm working on a short story and using this to stretch my comfort zone a bit. I normally don't write paranormal and thought I'd give it a try. The story is from the P.O.V of a demon. Walking around in a demon's shoes has made me write some pretty disturbing sequences, but it's been a thrilling process. Forcing myself to pull from the darkness (which I think exists in all of us, yet most of us choose to keep buried) is proving to be a challenging, yet beneficial exercise.
Here are the first few (still to be edited) paragraphs:
I hover above, watching my masterpiece unfold. Flashing lights from two dozen or so emergency vehicles cover the town square in a frenetic blue and red pattern. News reporters crowd around the front of the school, lying in wait for a glimpse of the macabre. Stretcher upon stretcher are wheeled out, full black body bags their cargo. The massacre occurred as school was letting out for the day. Now it’s close to midnight and the mess is far from being cleaned up.
Grief, anger, guilt and blame build in the air and swirl around me. I breathe it all in.
As the night wears on, the crowd dissipates. I grow tired of watching. My work here is done. Another town on the horizon is begging for disaster.
In my free form I’m a mist. If people catch a glimpse of me it’s fleeting; a shadow or dark cloud passing over the sun. I can still move objects in my natural state, cause goose bumps to ripple across skin, but when I find a body to manipulate, that’s when the fun really begins.
Humans make perfect puppets. They’re so malleable, emotional and weak.