My mother so loves to tell me I have a flare for the dramatic. Heaven help me when she hears about this. In my defense, I didn’t plan to land myself in the middle of an underworld turf war. Nevertheless, here I am, hands splayed, trying to stop two demons from throwing hands. Well, they’d actually like to clash swords, but you get the picture.
“You do not belong here.” The voice that escapes the grey lips is more like a hiss than anything else. My skin crawls but I hold my ground as the demon bares their teeth at their counterpart.
“And yet, here I am. On patrol, I might add. Why is it that I’ve run this route for weeks and I’m just now seeing you?” She raises a brow, soft green skin crinkling across her forehead. The grey demon bears their teeth in response, caught in a conundrum. At this point, I’d really like to remove myself from this narrative, so I clear my throat softly. But of course, this startles them both, rewarding me with two jumping, snarling demons.
“What if we all just . . . went home? Then y’all can come back later and have this out when I can’t see you.”
“You could leave now?” The hiss has softened to an exasperated rasp as they look at me, raising one thick eyebrow.
“Well, I can’t in good conscience leave you two here to throw down.” She snorts at me as their head lowers slowly into their hands.
“Humans.” They sigh simultaneously and I offer them a sheepish grin.
In Search of a Story 