Creepypasta #1116: I Can See Your Demons
It can help in social situations and it makes people watching a bit more fun, but it’s unsettling as you can imagine. The worst part is everyone has one, so I see them everywhere. Honestly, I’m just glad the demons don’t seem to realize I can see them.
Oh, and if you’re curious, I have tried to see my own demon, but I’m pretty sure it’s stuck on my back or something so using a mirror can’t really help. Not to mention they never show up in photos or videos.
Anyway, I’ve had this gift since I can remember, though fortunately my parents never took me seriously about it. The only person I’ve really opened up to is Sally, a nice little blonde girl in my 6th grade math class. She likes to hear about what the demons look like and hopes one day we can write a comic about it.
The most common one is addiction. He’s a tiny, thin little man-imp with a bulbous head and unkempt hair who twitches around a lot. He looks paranoid and whispers in the afflicted person’s ear constantly, sitting on their shoulder and wringing his seven-knuckled hands together.
Then there’s anxiety, a sort of shadow-clown who mimics someone’s steps in the most ridiculous fashion. She’s almost like one of those wacky waving inflatable arm-flailing tube things, if they were evil and never left you alone. I’ve learned quickly that laughing at them - as much as they can be funny at times - really hurts the person’s feelings, though it does make anxiety act even sillier.
Depression is a small little leech that sucks on the head, drooling over everything and never opening its eyes. It floats along when the person moves, never letting go. Sometimes I think I can see the tail ghosting into another dimension, as though it’s trying to pull the person away.
Eating disorder is a short, naked, hairy, fat man who walks on backwards hand-feet, staring at his victim while patting his belly and licking his lips. He moves his eyebrows around a lot, which is kind of weird, but it’s worse when he rips off his arm and eats it like his life depends on it. It grows back, but still.
Sally’s demon is abuse. I’ve seen it on others, but I haven’t told Sally - I’m sure she knows, anyway. She’s a gaunt blue fairy who flitters around with a little pouch putting makeup on Sally and herself. She always looks worried, even when she pauses to smile nervously.
Sally and I got to class a little early today and were chatting when a new classmate walked in. I couldn’t help but stare. He was the only person I’d ever seen without a demon attached. He took a seat a row or two away from us and looked straight at me, never once blinking. When I didn’t respond to one of Sally’s questions, she nudged me.
“What are you staring at?”
Credits to: Zchxz