Demons House and the strugle of a man

It was clear to him, the house belonged to his demons. The time had come to release them, his head was way too small and they were growning. He used to chat with them in a friendly way, discussing the decisions, taking sugestions from them, he thought they were friends.
Little did he know they’ll take over his actionsin a wink. Feeded by the love his wife didn’t need anymore and expanding all over the space he had inside, his demons grew stronger and wilder, until they became a major destructive force, giving him a hard time trying to control them. He tried to convince them, calm them down, oppress them, even banish them but every attempt failed in disastruos way, leaving him with wounds, records at the local police station and even vague memories of nights spent at the hospital.

Days and months went through and his demons occupied every inch of his inside, oppressing every other creature he used to host. His head became darker than ever and the demons wanted to break free, until it became unbeareble.
He took a what he thought was a pen and started writting all over the walls; it was the only way to release his demons, the way they showed to him. Wrote everything he could and left the house, for it belonged to his demons now.


On her confession to the police station, miss Chan, the widow of mister Chan, whos body was found two weeks after he was reported missing under the bridge he used to go fishing when he was young, told the police that her late husband had become very upset lately, started drinking, was very nervous and because of that was involved in several fights against strangers, that got him lose his job. She also told the police that, the morning he left she woke to the sound of the door he closed behind him, but when she got on his studio, she saw the wall written all over them. Not written with a pen, but craved with what the police found out to be a small knife, the same knife he would latter cut his veins with, under the bridge that used to be his hiding place.
Readind those walls, the mourning miss Chan found every unspoken word her husband never told, or she never listened at. She could make a novel out of it.

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