Jabber Wonger

You weren’t always a demon.

That’s all you remember, however. The memory of the life you had before this was now whisked away like a snowflake buried deep in a blizzard. Vague images of your loved ones would occasionally slip into your head if you happened to be lucky enough, but a detail would always be missing. Their smile, their eyes, their voice. Someone you once laughed so hard with to the point it felt like your intestines were climbing out of your stomach was now but a distant lock of hair floating past your mind.

Despite this, life as an entity, or demon, wasn’t all too bad. Nobody really cares if you steal food because they can’t even see you..unless you want them to, of course. Home invasion was particularly easier now, even with your lack of keys. But, god, did people need to be original with their emotions. One breath on an unoccupied object and they were rattling in their boots. Heaven forbid a demon wants to have some entertainment in her life. Something you preferred over that was actual interaction. Whenever you felt it was best to, you’d show yourself and have a little fun with some humans, whether they were a woman or a man. Everything gets boring eventually, unless God was constantly frowning at you and decided you couldn’t find satisfaction easily.

Whatever the case, Friday nights at clubs soon turned into chores. Half the men that took you home for the night seemed to be dealing with some romantic problems elsewhere, as they never took the pleasure in learning your name and would scream some random out. Not that you remember your name, anyway. Joanne? Kierra? Linsey? Nothing rung a bell, no matter how many times you’d hijack some nerd’s computer to go scrolling through baby name websites. The lack of a name, too, you were used to now. Speaking of nerds, the places you found most interesting to visit were universities. Drama, fun assignments, romance, the whole bundle all in one day. You had to admit, the parties thrown by frat boys were easily in your top five favorite things that came out of watching over colleges. But when examining the students at these schools, entering their vision only caused disappointment. The majority were either scared, forgot entirely about the hallucination and brushed it off as a dream, or assumed they had some major mental problems to deal with. No originality could be spotted for miles.

Until, of course, you came across Jabber. On the outside, and on first glance, most might consider him to be just another wimpy human. Tall, standing around a rough six feet, wiry body type. His skin was a deep hazelnut, thick dark brown locs twisting down to his mid-section. One of the locs closest to his face on his right side was shorter than the rest, only nearing to about eye level. Speaking of eyes, Jabber’s were a light enticing pink; almost always were the edges of them curled into a memorable grin. Just above his eyes were his two slitted eyebrows, thin and just slightly messy. A duo of piercings resided on his face, two studs curled over and under his left eyebrow, the other as snake bites just below his bottom lip. All his features together wasn’t much more than your average Joe, if you had to be honest when looking through all your years of observing humans. However, before you could move on, the humming of something you’d never felt before slithers across your mind, clouding your thoughts the more you stare over at this man. Ever since he caught your eye, the thought of leaving Jabber made you grimace.

You couldn’t describe it perfectly, yet something in you figured there was something different about him. Was it the way he carried himself? The way he thought? Well, at the time, you didn’t know. What was as clear as a crystal ball, however, was that you knew you had to get your hands on him.

The moment you catch a glimpse of the man’s eyes, a beat of attachment rolls through your veins. Something about Jabber made it seem impossible to draw your gaze away from him. He wasn’t doing much, by the looks of it he was merely waiting for his friends and scrolling on his phone. In the moment his expression remained something neutral and nonchalant, but a voice caught in your head that there was something about him worth sticking around for. You reluctantly listen to the voice, floating over to Jabber as you pass through random’s heads. Chunky headphones lazily rested over his ears, music still audible despite the thick padding. The closer you got, the more you felt pulled in. Without a warning, Jabber’ head pops up from its dipped position just below his shoulders, his eyes now grazing over yours. He stops and seemingly stares straight into your soul. The action causes you to freeze; if you were to actually have blood it might as well be ice by now. Nobody has ever looked you dead in the eyes before even when visible to humans, let alone translucent. It might be a stretch, but it wouldn’t be a long one to say Jabber acknowledged your presence. Just as quickly as he brought his head up, however, it drooped back down to blink at his phone.

A breath staggers out of you that you didn’t even know you were holding, staring at the interesting man before you for a moment or two before snapping out of your trance. The man begins to strut down the street, phone now dangling from the pocket of his purple hoodie. Jabber bops his head along to the music blasting through his headphones, his fingers also drumming along to the beat.

Over the next couple of weeks, you had been keeping a close eye on Jabber. You’d stick around for meetings with friends, dinners with himself, going to clubs, and just about anything he did. Slowly, you pick up on his character. His first impression did not lay out an accurate description of Jabber at all; you figured he’d be more of the quiet type. How deathly wrong you were. Not only was he loud, he was also unpredictable, chaotic, and energetic. Despite this, Jabber was insanely smart—excelling in chemistry as he heavily experimented with different substances during his free time. He would talk to himself happily and rant about things going on that he seemingly just couldn’t keep inside his head, and you would hear all about it as you quietly remained in the corner of his room. An unmoving eye would always remain glued onto Jabber, rarely blinking as you would stare at him in fascination. Often times Jabber would pause and turn around to see you face to face, engaging in silence for a moment before skipping away. Whenever this would happen you would pause just like the first time you encountered him; the action never got old.

It seemed the feeling holding you from turning away from Jabber that day really was right—Jabber was vastly different than those you had followed before. Whenever you would bump into an object, he’d snap his head up and stare at it with eyes blown wide. Not in fear, but in exhilaration. You became obsessed with watching him even in his sleep, finding his peace somewhat comforting. You found it interesting he had so many sides to him, even with how long you’d been observing the man, it was quite difficult to predict what he would do or say next. His actions drove you to a point you became obsessed with him in general, whether it was the mere thought of him or if you were actually watching him. After countless hours of sitting back and watching him, you finally decided to engage in some action with Jabber and work your way into his vision as a “hallucination”.

Present day, 3:26am

Upon whisking out from one of his walls, Jabber’s sleeping form catches your obsessed and impatient eyes almost instantly. Spotted moonlight casts rays onto his bare back, his shutters crooked open messily. As if he could sense your dpresence, his eyes curl open in delight, as if he was waiting for something. As if he was waiting for your appearance.