Demon Reborn - A Halloween Tale

A little background…

120,000 years ago I was born in the ancient kingdom of Rackhaman. As a boy, I played with my father’s dagger, pretending it was a sword, and found I had a knack for wielding the thing. I spent hours in the communal wheat fields with my little weapon, laying waste to the imaginary foes that raged against me.

Dahn Bhan, the leader of my township’s battalion, happened upon me one morning while I was thusly engaged. He saw warrior potential in me and, upon learning from my father that I had not yet been indentured, made me his apprentice. I studied the sundry arts of combat with Dahn Bhan for nine years. Under his tutelage I mastered, not only the sword, but every manner of weapon known to man. I became known as Mhal Ngat, or ‘Blessed Deliverer of Obliteration’, for no enemy could stand against me.

On my twenty fourth birthday, Dahn Bhan released me from my apprenticeship and charged me with a formidable task. For centuries my people had been abused and tormented by the demon Shahpikhart, and it became my lot to seek the monster out and destroy him.

For thirteen years I searched fruitlessly, but at last, through a series of dark negotiations with the vilest of creatures, I learned the location of the cursed stone cavity wherein Shahpikhart dwelt. Within days of my discovery, I stood at the blackened entrance of his cave and, without hesitation, shouted my battle challenge.

From deep within the cavern I heard a guttural growl that shook the earth. My eyes strained into the abyss. Two glowing green eyes slowly took shape as the creature began to emerge from the deep. The emerald eyes darted back and forth as they searched for the source of the challenging call. Finally, they locked on me, and the ground-rumbling growl became a malevolent chuckle.

“Where is your army human?” His voice was surprisingly languid.

“I am alone, and am come to vanquish you.” I held his gaze and spoke with confidence.

“Your flesh will only serve to whet my appetite boy. Many will suffer the consequence of your insolence after I have devoured you, for my hunger is not easily sated.” His grotesque head was now dimly visible as he crept nearer to me from the depths of his putrid hole.

“Never again will you feast on the flesh of man!” I screamed, and flew at him with the fury of a thousand years of unrequited offences.

Whether by luck, skill, or intervention of the gods, I danced and weaved through the onslaught of his furious attacks and found myself standing beside his outstretched neck as he craned his head around to begin another barrage of attacks. With one swift and powerful stroke, my sword flew through his neck like the wings of a falcon through a thick fog.

All four of his knees buckled sideways as his body, bereft of his tainted soul, fell suddenly limp. It was over. Yet, as I turned to leave the cavern, I heard a sickening, gurgled voice from behind me. I turned and looked upon Shahpikhart’s disembodied head, which was still glaring at me with its glowing green eyes.

“Know this;” the head choked, “though you have broken this body, my spirit will live on forever and will torment you through this and all your lives to come.”

With that, the eyes went dim and silence filled the lair of the fallen demon.

Upon returning to my village, I was immediately hailed as a hero. Word spread of my deed, and I was eventually named King of the Nine Nations. I lived in peace and luxury, but I was always vigilant. Shahpikhart’s dying threat echoed in my mind throughout the years and I often sought out spirit speakers to learn whether the demon spirit had found a way back to the natural world. Their information was always the same. Though they could sense the soul of Shahpikhart striving to find a portal to this mortal dimension, nothing on earth existed which was evil enough to embody his wicked spirit.

Now, hundreds of millennia later, Shahpikhart has at last found a host vile enough to house his soul. And, true to his ancient threat, he has returned to torment me. He is raging at me with a new ferocity and a new name. He is now called Shopping Cart, and his crimes against me are not few.

He has pulled me sharply to the right and to the left, wobbled incessantly, flattened his wheels to induce an annoying thumping effect, squeaked at me, and sometimes even refused to move at all. He is able to possess any shopping cart at will, and jumps quickly from cart to cart as I try helplessly to avoid his wrath. When I see others using problem-free carts, I often wait for them to finish and then quickly grab their carts. Alas, as soon as my fingers touch the thing, Shahpikhart immediately inhabits the new cart and resumes his assaults. In his new form, Shahpikhart is more agile and protected than he has ever been.

This is not the lament of one defeated, but rather a rallying call to arms. An eon ago, I bested the beast alone, but I cannot repeat the deed. If Shahpikhart is to fall again, all the brave and stout hearted need to act together with a pointed and sure offense. I fear the only path to success is through the utter destruction of every earthly thing that has the capacity of housing his pernicious essence. If each of us can just bring to ruin one shopping cart each time we find ourselves in a market, the world will soon be free, once again, of the demon reborn.