Flux

he wiped. Finding himself now with a handful of dirt, he threw it into the pile along with the rest, flicking his wrist for maximum ejection. Some splattered onto the wall where he next wiped his hands, using the gaps in the stone to scrape off what he could.
    Pulling up his trousers, he left large brown handprints all over them, stark against white cotton. He made his way back to the bed. Thankfully, the gargoyle hadn’t made a move. It just watched intently.
    Iain was actually in a hospital not much different from any other apart from bars on the windows, windows to which Iain was oblivious. The walls were painted white and not even padded, the bed was the standard steel framed type. There was a heavy, grey painted metal door, which Iain perceived as old and rusted although the paint was fresh. He was in fact, in a hospital for the criminally insane.
    He’d been brought there in the night, heavily drugged and well away from the view of prying reporters who were all over the case. The police escort and the two detectives who’d interviewed him were presently in the yard outside the windows, smoking cigarettes and drinking tea. When returning into the main hospital building, Inspector Rodgers asked the doctor who met them; “So, how is he?”
    “Totally catatonic.”
    “Is it the sedative?”
    “Maybe, in part, but it should have worn off by now.”
    “Can we see him?”
    “I don’t think he’s up to answering any questions. I’m not even sure he’s capable of speech right now.”
    “That’s OK, I just want to see him. It’s such an odd case; shame really.” On his face, he wore a wistful look.

    Iain heard the creak of the heavy, rusted iron door. The gargoyle looked over, its eyes moving slowly to follow the source of the sound. Two of what he could only describe as demons, entered the dungeon. Each had stick thin legs on which were balanced bulbous, bloated bodies. They appeared as if they shouldn’t be able to balance properly and in fact, their awkward listing and jerky gait added weight to the theory. Their heads were small with large pointed swept back ears protruding from the sides, their mouths, which didn’t have any lips to speak of, were full of rows of tiny, needle like teeth which jutted out in all directions, much like a sharks.
    Iain stared wide-eyed in terror at these new characters, and then at the gargoyle, his glance shooting between the two. He saw the dog-like creature tense, its attention fixed firmly on Iain. Well outnumbered, he didn’t dare make any attempt at running or fighting; instead he cowered into the corner, the one used as a toilet. All he could do was to press himself into that small space where walls and floor met, hoping and praying that he wouldn’t get too badly hurt and that they weren’t with him to commit savage acts of torture.
    Inspector Rodgers gagged and raised his hand to his mouth at the sight and smell of Iain, sobbing in the corner and covered in shit. “Fucking hell!”
    “Nurse”- the doctor shouted through the half open door. “Come quick please.”

    At the site of more demons entering, Iain really did think his time was up. Eyeing up the door, which still sat ajar, he tensed, ready to make good his escape. The gargoyle leaned forward, ever so slightly, and emitted a low growling which resonated right into the pit of Iain’s stomach. He sat back down, resigned to accept his fate; it was that or die.
    These new demons were brandishing something but Iain couldn’t tell what it was. Coming towards him they held up their hands, grabbing at him. He saw they held what looked like sponges; what harm could they do with those? Then, they dipped the sponges into a liquid which they were carrying in an old and rusted pail. Iain saw smoke rising. He’d seen enough films to know what that meant; acid!
    He started to plead and beg for them not to hurt him but they paid no attention and just carried on coming. The first touch of the sponge was excruciating, hot pain seared through him, not only on the skin where it touched but shooting through his whole body. But they did not stop. Iain closed his eyes against the hurt, gritting his teeth in between twisted screams of agony. He could feel his skin splitting and peeling wherever the acid touched; smouldering and burning off. They removed his trousers.
    “Please God no. Why are you doing this? Please: No: NO. Save me please. Please.” He was whimpering now, the pain too much to bear. They were