It was December, but all was not merry.

Kicking a pine cone along the cracked, paved street, Sam approached the church on his route home from school. Under a bare maple tree, on the bench just outside the chapel, a newspaper fluttered in the breeze, beaconing Sam to catch up on current events before working at the market.

Abandoning the pine cone, and taking a seat next to the paper on the bench, he scanned the headlines: CRIME AT AN ALL TIME HIGH… UNUSUAL DISTURBANCES… CHURCHES CLOSING THEIR DOORS… BIZZARE WEATHER…

Sam was not surprised by any of these headlines. Three months of demon slashing had brought the town of Carthage no closer to ridding itself of Satan’s counterparts.

Feeling frustrated, he quickly moved on to his favorite section: Sports. He was stunned by what he read: NORTHERN TEAM DISQUALIFIED; CARTHAGE WILL GO TO STATE CHAMPIONSHIP GAME.

He couldn’t believe what he was reading. Excitement washed over him as he realized his team was headed for the game of a lifetime. Unable to utter a word, his mouth ajar, he barely drew breath as the exhilaration surged through his veins. But just as suddenly as it arrived, the joy was replaced with familiar bitterness as he realized what could have been. He clamped his mouth shut tight, and fought back tears of regret for all he’d given up.

I would’ve been quarterback in this game.

His stomach ached. His head felt light, and there were so many negative thoughts rushing through his mind, he almost didn’t hear the voice.

“Quitter,” it whispered.

As he shifted his focus from the paper toward the sound, a forceful gust of wind pushed against him, and he watched the pine cone suddenly roll ten feet and into a ditch.

“Quitter,” the voice rang again through winds that turned on like a busted fire hydrant. This time he heard it clearly.

He turned his head toward the eerie voice as he fished for his ring in his pocket. Slipping it on just in time to see the sanctuary doors fly open, he saw Pastor Tom kneeling before the cross, weeping. He wondered if the pastor could sense their presence, but Sam’s attention was drawn to something even more disturbing.

Standing outside, shoulder-to-shoulder, the same red-robed demons that lined the hallway at city hall, surrounded the church, their robes whipping in the turbulent winds.

Like a ravenous wolf pack, dozens of demons paced aimlessly on the sparse grass outside the chapel. Some crawled among the branches of a magnolia tree that shaded the area.

It’s worse than ever, he thought as he turned to face the demon sitting like and resembling a wolf ten feet away.

“You should be quarterback in that game, not Nick.” It sputtered the suggestion with a deep growl.

The words were a tornado of bitterness in his heart. He stood and aimed his shield at its face, screaming at it, as if the mere intensity of his voice could erase all of his regret. But shock flooded his body when, instead of succumbing to the abyss, the demon, seemingly unaffected, grabbed the shield, tossing it like a Frisbee fifty yards away with a flick of its leathery wrist, never moving his eyes from Sam. The beast smirked as Sam heard its thoughts.

“Pitiful toy.”

Sam turned his panic into action, drawing his sword; but before he could use it, the demon easily pried it from his hands, and laughed a bone-chilling laugh. Vulnerable and mortified, Sam leaned back in fear as it opened its fang-filled mouth, biting the sword in half, the pieces clanking to the ground like thrift store silverware. A rush of air gasped involuntarily through Sam’s mouth as he stared at the broken sword, realizing his defenceless position. A few of the sapphires had fallen out of the handle, and the fiery opal was now black.

Edging his way backward, he wanted to run, but his legs felt stiff and numb. Shooting glances left and right, he looked for help as he eased back, slowly realizing there was no escape.

The creature pushed Sam to the ground, and everything spun as the hard earth met his head. The pain radiated like a strike to a church bell. The ache overpowered all his senses. Even his sight faded briefly, but returned as tiny pin pricks of sparkling light, falling like rain.

He managed to look down towards his aching chest. Pinning him like prey, the demon’s claws pierced his skin in several spots, blood now soaking his uniform. He could smell its steamy breath on his face—like putrid, toxic gas.

Sam waited for the worst.