Uncle Montague's Tales of Terror - Chris Priestley [20]
Thomas strode off towards his house, ignoring the shrieks of the demon. He entered the back garden by the arched door in the high perimeter wall. Smokey, their cat, ran towards him across the lawn, but stopped in her tracks and hissed, fluffing out her long grey fur, as she saw the sinister bench end in his hand.
The demon launched into a screaming attack on the cat and its disgusting habits, gloating at the cancer it said was already growing in its neck. Thomas marched towards the shed, outside of which Benson, the gardener, had left his axe jammed into a huge hunk of beech.
The demon guessed where Thomas was heading and also his intent as he pulled the axe free. He screamed and goaded Thomas as he placed the bench end on the beech log and lifted the axe above his head.
'Go on!' it screamed. 'Go on! You haven't the nerve, have you, you spineless piss-in-the-bed? Look at you! Your hands are shaking! You're pathetic! Pathetic!'
Thomas took a deep breath and slammed the axe head down with all his might, closing his eyes as it struck home.
But instead of silencing the demon, Thomas's blow had merely resulted in more raucous laughter. When he opened his eyes it was not the bench end that lay split by his axe, but Smokey's body, and he dropped the axe as if it were on fire and turned his face away in horror, tears welling in his eyes.
'Oh, diddums!' shouted the demon. 'Is little Tommy's pussy-wussy broken, then? Do you know I think you may have taken her head right off? That's one catnap she won't be waking up from!' The demon cackled and Thomas found that the bench end was back in his hand.
'Leave me alone!' shouted Thomas, bursting into tears.
'Oh dear, oh dear,.' said the demon. 'I can't do that I'm afraid, Tommy boy.'
Thomas sobbed.
'Come on,.' said the demon. 'I can't believe you are crying over that damned cat. Good riddance to the nauseating fleabag. You never even liked her, admit it!'
'I did!' yelled Thomas. 'I loved her!' But even as he said it, he wasn't sure.
'No, you didn't,.' said the demon with a chuckle.
'Not really. Not at all. The truth is, you don't really love anyone, do you, Thomas? Not really. Not even yourself. Isn't that true?'
'Stop it!' yelled Thomas.
'Tommy, Tommy, Tommy,.' said the demon. 'Calm down. It's all a shock to you, I know. You want your old life back, I understand that. But it's gone. It's gone for good.' The demon's voice dropped to a hiss. 'And why? It's all that filthy tinker's fault, isn't it? He tricked you. If it wasn't for him, everything would be as it was. He's the cause of everything! He ought to pay and pay dearly. Why people are hanged for less - much less - and yet he gets away with ruining your life. Anyone would understand if you took the law into your own hands and taught that filthy old man a lesson . . .'
Thomas nodded slowly. The demon was right about that at any rate. That pig had ruined his life. He would work out some way of ridding himself of the demon later.
'He's slow. He's weak,.' screeched the demon. 'You can catch up with him in no time.'
'I don't even know which way he went,.' said Thomas.
'Yes, you do,.' said the demon. 'Of course you do. He's walking the green lane to Trumpington. You can cut across the fields. It's a quiet route. There will be no one about.'
After a moment's pause, Thomas began to move towards the garden door.
'You're going unarmed?' screamed the demon incredulously. 'A boy like you against a crazy old man like that? He has a knife, remember. Didn't you see it hanging from his belt? You need some protection. He's killed before, you know.' The demon laughed. 'Oh yes - many times, many times. I've seen him do it.' The demon chuckled.
Thomas looked at the axe.
'Good, good,.' screeched the demon. 'That's good thinking. Come on! Come on! He's getting away.'
'I can't carry you and the axe,.' said Thomas.