by Billyjo Rench

Created on: September 26, 2009

He soars through the sky, darting and swooping through the night like a bat. His talons are thick and his lust is great. He searches for prey, knowing it is so vulnerable that there is no challenge for him. So he creates his own. He seeks out the lonely, finding them in their homes. His name is Despair.

He likes to hunt at night. He flies throughout the neighborhood looking for the few dim lights on in the early hours of morning. His prey lay awake or tossing and turning in their beds. His comrade Depression has already met them and paved the way for his entrance.

He spots his target. A light barely visible has caught his attention. He spreads his leather-like wings to the heavens and tips his head to the earth. He soars at his greatest speed and tucks his wings to his sides. His anticipation grows and he begins to bear his ragged teeth.

He slows his pace to a coast and gently disappears through the roof and directly into the dimly lit room where his pray lay awake. The man shudders as Despair enters his domain. He is cold yet his brow begins to sweat. He stares at the ceiling, trapped in his own hell. Despair stretches his talons toward the man, cupping his head in his winged hands.

The man is suddenly overwhelmed. The weight of Despair has overcome him. His thoughts are scattered and he can't seem to focus. He no longer can feel the yearning for happiness while the massive weight of Despair covers him. His breathing begins to shallow and his palms begin to sweat. Despair smiles, revealing his canine-like teeth and black gums.

The man lowers his head into his hands, reliving all of his failings at once. Despair sinks his talons into the man's chest and grabs a hold of his heart. The man begins to weep; first softly and then increasingly heavier. Despair lifts his head to the sky and shrieks his demonic laugh. It echoes into the night bringing praise to his Master. The man falls to the floor in a fetal position. He begs for relief from his pain. He doesn't realize the armor he has at his disposal. He hasn't called out for the One whose warriors wait with their swords drawn; those whose work is commanded by prayer. Instead, he is overcome by sorrow, regret, fear, and ache and it isn't until Despair moves on to his next victim that he will rest, if only for awhile.

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