INK is for INCUBUS by Sebastian Worboys

DNM Fiction

EDITED BY A.MICHAEL

Sebastian was the friend I never got to say goodbye to. He left behind a heavy volume of work which I reclaimed from his flat, parts of which I will continue to post on The Blob™ as and when is appropriate. I’m gutted he never got to see this blog, but at least his family now know that finally his stories are been read by a few people. Although his work over the last few years was sombre with the knowledge that he was on limited time, after battling with cancer, it was also repeatedly interweaved with messages of hope. Sebastian was a fast and prolific writer.

I’m a good Incubus. There are bad ones. If you don’t know, an Incubus is a mythical creature that visits you in your dreams. I’m a kind of ghost. I did something very wrong during my time on Earth, when I was alive. Something very very wrong. I was unhappy, understand, and I thought nobody cared. Instead of going to someone for help, I decided to take care of things myself, only I couldn’t see or think straight at the time. I was confused and upset and angry.

Now, on the other side, it’s different. I regret what I did. I wish I had stayed alive and lived life. But I chose the wrong path. I let spite and wrath into my heart. To begin with, before I became corrupted and deluded, I was a good person. That’s why I am not in the lowest place, where lost souls are damned forever.

I report to angels, not demons, and to make up for the awful deed I did when I was still just a young man with so many adventures ahead of him, it is now my duty to save others who might be heading along the same dastardly path. When I have rescued 77, I may ascend into the higher place. And, one day, reincarnation.

What I do is hang around in busy shopping malls, schools, and youth clubs, waiting for a troubled teen who looks really sad or depressed. It is easy-peasy for me to spot the ones who are crying out for help. Most of the living don’t see the signs, but they are obvious to me. Once I have picked out a lonely girl or sulking boy, I follow them home, to see where they live. Then, that night, once they are asleep, I will enter their rooms and sit beside their bed, touching their forehead with the palm of my hand.

I will sit with them, warning off other bad Inks, and fill their head with pleasant dreams. That is my purpose now. I must protect those who are in need for at least one full night. Often, it only takes one pleasant dream from me to totally change their outlook on life. When someone is positive and happy, the bad Inks don’t want to know.

Please pass along the gist of this message onto some young person who might not know that there are good entities constantly fighting for their well being. If I were to put it in religious terms, I would think of it as the Holy Spirit.

But I am not the Holy Spirit, as such, like in the bible. I was a real human being, who laughed, loved, and lost, just like you.

My name was Sebastian Worboys, and I am a good Ink.

© Sebastian Worboys 2006
Zombie Publications
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In memory of Darren Hodgkins.
(Creative Possibilities, photographer and potter)

For more info about Sebastian and Darren, see link below.
http://piebald77.blogspot.com/2010/04/aztec-vase.html

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Footnote: R.I.P Christopher Percival, who passed this week. Thoughts go out to partner Sharon. Good rugby player: Good man.