“There’s a daemon in the room. Do you feel it?” asked the low-brow ghost, heretofore referred to as LB.

“No,” answered Marie, “I can’t feel it at all. What makes you say that?”

“There’s a disturbance in the air. It’s like a thousand bats are congregating on my forehead. They’re dancing in the space between my frown and my smile.”

“Wait! Yes, I feel it now! It’s like the rain spattering on the window. The beating of their wings…” Marie sighed, slowly exhaling the tension that LB brought with him. “What will the daemon do to me?”

LB chuckled in the dark, ghostly way she was used to hearing after so many years of visitations. “He will surely rape you if I don’t protect you.

“Come. Come to bed with me and I’ll look after you.”

“But,” gasped Marie, “how will you protect me? You are but a low-brow ghost!”

“You must trust me.” His whispery breath gusted gently against her ear.

Marie acquiesced. She shivered beneath the covers. “Am I safe from the deemon now?”

“Of course.” LB curled up beside Marie and mumbled gibberish to her until she went almost mad.

“Stop it! What is this blue language you speak?”

LB was aghast! “Don’t you recognize it? It is the language of exorcising daemons!”

Marie stared at LB–at least as much of the ghost as she could fathom. He was transparent at best.

“I don’t believe in you!” she exclaimed, at which point he disappeared.

Nine months later, she gave birth to a baby – with tiny horns between its frown and its smile.

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This post is part of Stream of Consciousness Saturday.