Place where the demons go

Photo by Markus Partoll on Pexels.com

previous part: https://jordynsaelor.com/2026/01/15/other-side/

all parts: https://jordynsaelor.com/cant-catch-me-now/

***

I tried to ignore this big question

and instead

scowled at the lightning creature’s head and wide hips

and demanded

my mechanical arm back

and shoes

and dress

but it said

they’d all been repurposed

due to their demonic nature

and I growled, repurposed for what?

and Percy said

that outfit you’re wearing

was constructed

out of all your recycled belongings.

This ugly thing is where my mechanical fingers went?

You stupid–

Percy crackled. Your things were demon made, he said.

That hand wasn’t, I glared,

but whatever,

next question,

Mrflfip said the demon was dead,

yet you said imprisoned–

which one of you is lying?

Yes, well, demons can’t die,

but one of those blankets was a tainted mortal

unsaveable

so it died

but the others

are in my prison network

that not a single demon has escaped from,

and they’re all happy enough there

I think

though

for your mortal understanding

“dead” works well enough.

So you, I whispered,

imprison demons

and keep “saveable” mortals,

but why’d it take so long

for the trees to bring me here?

My guards, the lightning face said,

are careful

about knowing who is who

before they act.

So then I just had the big question left,

but didn’t want it answered.

I stared

at the mountain rains,

ebbing and rising

toward a distant, murky light

high above

and whispered,

“I don’t want to be stuck here.”

And a whisper

came back to me,

inviting me to come see,

come and dream,

let it teach me

and I looked at Percy

and the sand where the clay thing disintegrated

and knew staying

would feel like a prison,

demon or not

so I

ran across the valley

and Percy shouted

that I was going to drown myself

but also didn’t seem to care

what I did or didn’t do 

as long as I wasn’t

making his Keep shake

so I ran

crying after my mechanical arm

but not that much;

crying about how stuck I was

but not that much;

heeding the voice in the water

maybe too much

for a shred of hope

to hold me

and

arms outstretched

I ran into the rain.

***

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