A Demonic Force Meets A Father's Resolve

20250929

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

If only more parenting books thought to mention signs of demonic possession. Perhaps Graham should’ve realised something was amiss, though he’d been pulled a dozen ways trying to balance mourning the loss of his wife, looking after his newborn son, and learning how to run a household solo. All with the looming deadline of his paternity leave running out.
Mary’s death had been a shock. Her pregnancy was difficult, yes, to the extent they agreed their first would be their last and Graham got the snip. But they’d chosen a hospital known for excellent natal care and the team had performed perfectly. The birth itself, while stressful, seemingly went well.
And then Mary gave Louie his first feed, glowing with victory and love - and abruptly passed away in Graham’s arms. He couldn’t understand. Neither could the doctors.
If only someone had thought to investigate the baby. Perhaps the cursed presence lurking within that feeble form diverted attention from itself. Or perhaps Graham simply fell through the cracks.
He tried his best. Even after Mary’s parents refused to have anything to do with their grandson, and Graham’s parents fell into dementia and hysteria soon after taking care of little Louie for a weekend. Attempts to find baby care similarly fell through or went awry. Graham was on his own.
So he cut back his hours to part-time, moved to a tiny apartment he could afford on his new wage, and worked from home as much as possible. Juggling fatherhood and domestic care with earning. A mundanely tragic tale.
It was his determination to look after his son, and the sacrifices he’d made to that end, which meant the Order took so long to find this incarnation of the Devourer. Until finally someone flagged a panicked paediatrician report.
Now Graham was sat in his cramped kitchen-dining room-office space with a folder which explained so much of the past three years. The agents sitting across the small table watched with cold sympathy.
“This…” Graham shook his head, absently rubbing the fresh bite on his arm.
He carried countless scars and had done since Louie’s teeth started coming in. No pacifier or teething ring could replace the child’s delight at tasting his father’s blood and hearing him cry out in pain.
“Please tell me there’s a cure.”
“I’m sorry, Mr Palmer.” The head agent said gently, her gaze sorrowful but unwavering. “The demon supplanted your son’s soul. It’s best to think of him as having been stillborn.”
Graham frowned. His gaze wandering to the TV. “Supplanted?”
“Yes. Nothing of your son remains.”
Her confidence flickered when Graham asked “Why does the ‘Devourer’ love trains?”
“Trains…?”
“Yes. Louie loves shows about trains. Never got into most children’s media - which makes sense, I suppose, with what you’ve got here - but the best way to get him down for a nap is put on a documentary about trains.”
“Er…” The agents exchanged glances. Suddenly uneasy.
“And birds. I mean,” pain crossed Graham’s face, “I can’t let him near them. Can’t let him near any animals. Even the window-feeder didn’t turn out well, but… he’ll watch videos of birds for hours. It makes him so peaceful.”
“Perhaps a trace remains.” The agent allowed. “That is tragic. But it only makes it more important that your son is freed from his fate.”
“By killing him.” Graham’s voice was soft. Pained. So very, very tired.
“It is the only way.”
“Mm.” Graham ran a hand down his scarred arm. Staring through the faded, stained plastic tabletop to years of suffering. “You said you can’t break the curse. So when Louie dies… the Devourer will move to another victim. That’s how we ended up with it.”
“Yes. We strive to find a way to banish the Devourer for good, but… in the meantime, we must beat it back to keep it from gaining power.”
“But… that means… every few years a child has to die?”
The agents nodded. The lines in their faces deepening.
“That…” Graham shook his head. “It’s one thing to talk about putting my son down. But inflicting this on someone else? Destroying more innocent families? I can’t. Louie isn’t hurting anyone. You know where he is, now. You say you want to find a way to break the curse - here’s your chance.”
“Not hurting anyone?” The agent’s gaze fixed on the stub left of Graham’s pointer finger.
He gave a lopsided shrug. Eyes turned downwards. “Parenting for you. I’ve got the scissors and all behind two layers of child lock now, that’s… working. And it’s my job to try and build a future for my son.”
“Such an evil creature has no future in this world.”
To their shock Graham laughed. A wry jaunty sound holding the last remains of that cheerful loving normal man he’d been before. He leant forward, a twinkle in his eye, and scoffed “You just told me that the greater good demands we sacrifice a family of innocents a year, then you act like there’s no place in this world where someone can commit evil to do good?”
Silence.
“I know it might go horribly wrong.” Graham said softly. “I’m not saying it won’t… come to that. But… please. For the sake of my son, in memory of my wife, to save those poor souls who’d be cursed next… please, try.”

A week later, Louie the Devourer was ecstatic to move into a cottage where he could watch real trains from his bedroom window, and see lots of birds and other animals in the garden. (He only threw a small tantrum about not being allowed out himself, barely causing his father injury.)
Graham was likewise relieved to be in the nice quiet countryside and no longer having to worry about bills. Instead he had a stack of tailored parenting advice from his ‘new friends’, which he took on with a father’s resolve.
He wouldn’t let everything be in vain. He would find his son a place in this world. Evil be damned.

Prompt was “Write a story about a parent who realises their child is pure evil”.