Have you ever seen someone die like me?
Did they go peacefully into the night?
Could you hear the angels singing with glee?
When I saw my dad pass, I saw true fright.
He was gasping to breathe that entire day.
He struggled to survive for good reason.
As the sun surrendered to night that May
What awaited his last breath, a demon.
I did not see a bright, heavenly glow.
Instead I felt a presence, strong and vile.
Waiting for a death to take him below,
A gift for the dark prince to make him smile.
I witnessed no grand battle for his soul,
No angel as he sought to stay alive.
Only a demon with a single goal.
My dad was fighting all Hell to survive.
He lived a life of sorrow and regret
Choosing to do evil many a time.
Adultery, drugs, and some gambling debts.
He lived a most amoral life of crime.
What kind of dad was he, as you’d expect,
Not usually there and rarely present.
Empty promises, plenty of neglect.
An easy father figure to resent.
As a youth, handsome, athletic, and smart,
Great promise with the potential for good.
But life crushed his dreams and mangled his heart.
His life turned to darkness, any life could.
Most of his time spent on earth was wasted.
In his twilight, he once tried to repent.
A small bit of redemption he tasted.
His fleeting time of good deeds gone and went.
Laying flat, his eyes rolled back in his head.
But he could seemingly see through those lids
the devil’s minion who wanted him dead
To claim my father’s soul for what he did.
With eyes black as night and wings spread out wide,
He hovered right over my dad’s deathbed.
The creature salivated as he eyed
his latest victim to which he was led.
Seven-inch fangs and claws on hands and feet,
With a human face and body possessed.
A creature where terror, man and beast meet,
Charred by flames, a gaping hole in its chest.
Although demons sometimes try to disguise,
They can take the form of angelic hosts.
This demon, though, cared little to surprise,
Revealing the horns on its head to boast.
The demon wrought a sinister attack.
As dad’s body writhed in pain, change began.
Something seemed to be forming on his back.
Was this always part of the devil’s plan?
For hours we prayed, my brother and niece,
Hoping that our last plea would change his fate.
We wanted for him everlasting peace,
With his last gasps, we knew we were too late.
His body expired, began to turn cold,
And his soul was consumed by the creature.
Devoured quickly by evil so bold.
It swooped throughout the room like a teacher.
Downward it flew after its victory
to Satan’s damned abode from long ago.
A strong breeze whisked on either side of me
As both sets of wings descended below.
David A. Grenardo is a law professor, poet, and microfiction writer. He teaches at the University of St. Thomas School of Law in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and he lives in St. Paul.