Our hero tried to ignore the scratching and growling noises coming from the dark parts of the basement beyond his line of sight.
He couldn’t remember being a Jinni. He didn’t remember living in the swamp. As far as he knew, his existence as a thirteen-year-old boy started two weeks ago.
There were things which he knew that he couldn’t recall having learned. Words and phrases came out of his mouth out of habit, but the habits must have been instilled in him before this existence that began two weeks prior. It was frustrating and would often trip him up.
When he was living with the others in the sewers, he’d begin to pick a lock like he had performed the act a thousand times, and halfway through, the knowledge would evaporate. He’d be singing a song that had come to mind, then without notice, the melody and lyrics would be gone. He had fumbled through the first weeks of his life, endlessly recalling dreams, plain as day one second, only to watch them slip through his fingers like sand the next.
The scratching, growling creatures in the darkness weren’t seeming to get any closer. He wanted them to jump out and get on with whatever it was they intended to do, but they didn’t. They just bumped around acting scary.
They did this for a long enough time that he realized they must have been exactly that, an act- a ploy created by the man in the white suit. It was meant to inspire enough fear in him, to force him to use the magick the blond man was so convinced that he possessed.
It wasn’t going to work.
Damien laughed at this sad attempt to motivate him. “I’ve been through worse,” he said mostly to himself, but it was also directed at the things going dump in the dark.
But, then, he began to wonder what was the worst that he had been through?
He couldn’t remember who he was before, so he really couldn’t say for certain that he wasn’t what the blond man accused him of being.
Maybe the blond man’s ploy was working after all...
He didn’t think he had any idea how to use magick, but then, thirty seconds into picking a lock, he suddenly realized he didn’t know how to do that either. Until the lack of knowledge caught up with him, his body seemed able to do things out of habit. Maybe the same would work here. Maybe it needed to be an act- fake it till you make it, right?
He shook his head to clear it of the sudden and inexplicable vision of a black pirate ship. It shimmered at the edge of his memory, and he resolved himself. He would just pretend he had magick, and act like he knew how to use it.
He snapped his fingers, concentrated, clenched his fists, held his breath.
...Nothing.
He tried saying, “Open sesame.”
Nothing.
“Abracadabra?”
Nope.
“Shazam!”
Nada.
Our hero growled. He wanted up off of that lab table more than he could bear. He pulled, and strained, and thought about breaking his hand to rip it through the brace that held his wrist firm to the table, but then he’d have to do the same to his other hand and his feet.
He began to squirm again. Panic electrified his chest. Whimpers worked their way past his lips, and he heard a voice say.
Shhh. Old friend, you’re not alone...
He quipped aloud, “Yeah, I know. The monsters are here to keep me company.” And he stopped. He had responded to this strange voice in his head out of habit.
“Who are you?” he asked.
The voice laughed, You don’t remember me? I’m hurt. I thought we were friends...
“Great. Can you get me out of here?”
Hmm, the voice teased, as if it were mulling it over, That’s not the nature of our relationship.
His brow furrowed.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ll help you. It’s what I’m here to do. I’m here to tell you the truth, but you may not like it…
Damien waited for it to continue. The whispering voice moved around him. It said, You’re never getting out of here. Don’t you see? You belong here. You deserve this. You’re the monster, not them.
Something growled in the darkness.
“That’s not true.”
Sure it is. Do you not know why you belong here? Why you lived in the sewers? Why you’re all alone? You’re unlovable. No one wants you. You couldn’t even stand to be around you. That’s why you wiped your memory.
Alone, trapped, and vulnerable in the dark, its words in his mind were far more real and horrifying than the ambient paranormal activity.
The thirteen year old boy began to whimper.
There we go. Let it out. It gets easier if you just accept it.
“It’s not true,” he protested in a small voice.
Do you have any evidence to the contrary? There now. It’s alright.
He sniffed and asked, “I erased my memory?”
Because you couldn’t stand being who you were.
“So, I do have magick… and I just don’t remember?”
The Darkness was quiet for a second too long.
Well, right, it stammered, but there’s no point using it. It overcorrected, It won’t save you… You can’t break your own memory block. That’s the point. Can god make a rock big enough so even he can’t move it? The answer is yes. He can, and you did. You hid your memories away and there’s no getting them back.
He didn’t believe it.
A fire grew inside his belly. The voice had lied. It had called him a monster.
Wait, what are you doing?
“Blocking you out.” With heat and rage, he willed the inner voice to just shut up.
You can’t get rid of me. I’ll always be with you. I am the-
And the Darkness was gone.
He took an aggravated breath and smiled.
He did have magick, which meant he could escape.
With the flames of will and determination still rising in his chest, his attention turned to the clamps pinning him to the slab. Intuitively, he took a deep breath, allowing it to fan the fire, and as he released the breath, he focused the flames of his will on his restraints.
With a clang, all four locks broke free.
Our hero clambered off the slab. He laughed and marveled at his new found freedom and power. It was too dark to see much, but he could see the dim light coming in from under the basement door at the top of the stairs.
Before he could make headway, the noises in the dark he had been ignoring moved closer.
The growls and animal grunts sounded wet with salivation.
He needed a light. He needed to be able to see, but his fire was being snuffed out by fear.
“I’ve had worse.” He swallowed. “I’ve had worse.” He reminded himself again, but he had backed himself up against a stone wall.
A metallic clang came from the lab table he had just vacated as something big leapt onto it.
He could tell from the hungry sounds of snorting and chomping that there were two monsters.
Damien flapped around his hand and clicked his fingers, trying to ignite a spark or luminescence.
“Lumos!” he exclaimed in a vain hope. Nothing happened.
The terror that his short existence was going to end by being eaten alive fell to the wayside as he grew increasingly more frustrated that he couldn’t figure out this damn magick thing, which he would have never even needed had that voice not been such a bitch! And he never would have met that voice if that towering psycho had not locked him in a basement to start with! What the hell was wrong with people?
His hands ignited in flame, and it didn’t hurt. That’s pretty fucking cool.
Damien smiled until he saw the faces beyond the flames.
Pale. White skin stretched across an elongated skull. Black, endless gaping mouths. Glowing, ravenous, lidless eyes. Skeletal, bowed humanoid limbs, legs over arms charging at him.
His stomach dropped and his fire went out.
