Free Thorn by Joshua Ingle

himself, “is pain suffered alone.”

4
    “In the name of Jesus, I bind you Satan, and I command you to leave this home.”
    Madeline did stuff like this all the time, and Thorn and his followers always had a good laugh. She didn’t actually know they were in the room with her, but they’d used her religion to make her paranoid in recent years, so she’d developed the odd habit of “binding” demons whenever she heard a bump in the night. Or during a late-morning nap, as the case was now. She would pray and she would bind, then bind, then pray, sometimes for over an hour at a time. Like all praying, it did nothing, or at least nothing the demons could notice.
    “Some people like the idea of demons,” Thorn had once explained to some of his less-experienced followers when they’d asked about Madeline’s eccentricities. “If demons are pulling the strings, then nothing is their fault. They hold no responsibility for their actions.” This was exciting behavior, when a human started blaming all her problems on the devil. In truth, demons usually preyed on desires that were already present; the human was the one who chose to act on those impulses. In their pride, most demons did fancy themselves as the sources of evil, but they were actually just its advocates.
    Maddie’s old joints popped as she left her bed and grabbed her worn Bible from her nightstand, sighing as she plopped onto her sofa and began to read the Good Book for reassurance. Her body relaxed, and her breathing grew slower, calmer. The comfort the book gave her bothered Thorn, but better comfort than critical thought. Thinking was the worst virtue, after all, and comfort made it easy for people to ignore problems. This was why demons loved religion’s contenting elements—dogma, arbitrary rules, church culture—while despising its challenging elements—community, family, altruism—which were more genuinely beneficial.
    A knock at the door. Jackie again? No, Thorn’s followers had seen to her—Jackie’s boss had burdened her with an unexpected workload over the holidays. Madeline opened the door and found two men outside, one dark-skinned and one light. They wore semi-formal clothes and authentic, welcoming grins. The white guy had a demon whispering in his ear. Thorn nodded to him.
    “Good morning ma’am, I’m John and this is Amir, and we just wanted to let you know about a picnic we’re having tomorrow at the community center next door. We’re inviting all our neighbors, and uh, that includes you. There’ll be grilled chicken and steak, all halal, and mac ‘n’ cheese, coleslaw, and a bunch of other stuff.”
    “Our wives are great cooks,” Amir put in. They waited just a moment for Madeline to react, but she regarded them with silence and suspicion. Her frown at Amir suggested that his name was somewhat less acceptable than John’s. Thorn had trained her for this, so he just stood back and watched.
    John continued. “So, uh, it’s at one p.m. and you’re welcome to come. Plenty of other seniors will be there too.”
    Madeline tried an escape route. “I hope you didn’t invite Mr. Vensil next door. He’s a drunk, you know. Even in the daytime.”
    “Oh, there won’t be any alcohol. We’re Muslims.” He hesitated before saying that last word, as if he knew in advance how she would react.
    She didn’t disappoint him. Her eyes widened in bitterness as she recognized them . “Well I’m a Christian, and I don’t do that sort of thing.”
    Amir was sympathetic. “Oh don’t worry, you’re welcome all the same. There won’t be any sermons or anything. It’s honestly just a get-together so we can introduce ourselves to the community.”
    Madeline wouldn’t have any of it, of course. “Us versus them” was a staple of Thorn’s whispering to Madeline, and of much demonic whispering in general. The demons would isolate a group, be it religious or political, and convince its members that no opposing viewpoints were