I Retired as a Texas Prison Guard. During my time I saw Offenders clearly being possessed by Demons. One Offender screamed 24/7 for six entire weeks before he was transferred. One Day, I asked him if he had a demon in him and he said Yes. And I asked the name of the Demon and he told me of his Demon Name that was unrecognizable to me. it was powerful sounding, but unknown to me. The mere fact that he screamed non-Stop for six entire weeks was unbelievable. And I saw him use his hand like suction cups and then slim straight up the wall like a Snake. it was an impossible fear, yet I did witness this.
And in Death Fights offenders eyes would turn total black as they were being possessed by a demon and you could not deal with them as they were incapable of comprehension until the eyes turned back to normal and the Demon had moved on. I saw numerous examples of demon possessions. But management refused to every discuss it and even told me not to talk about it. And when they tell you not to talk about something, you do not talk about it. But I saw impossible facial expressions and body contorking, twisting in ways impossible to be done unless a demon had control. I worked at four different Texas Prisons and demons were at all of them. I never saw a demon outside a person’s body or any ghosts either.

The Texas sun beat down on the razor wire fence, baking the concrete yard of the prison. It was a landscape of starkness, but for Michael, it was a landscape of the soul. He’d been a guard for years, a seasoned veteran of the system, but nothing could prepare him for what he witnessed that summer. It started with the screams.

A young man, barely more than a boy, had been locked in solitary confinement for weeks. He shrieked incessantly, a high-pitched wail that echoed through the corridors, a sound that ripped through Michael’s composure. The screams were relentless, a constant, throbbing pain in the air, a sound that burrowed into his bones and refused to let go. He felt the hairs on his neck stand on end, a primal fear that something was terribly wrong. It wasn’t just the volume of the screams, but the intensity, the sheer raw terror that vibrated in every syllable.

He tried to ignore it at first, but the sound followed him everywhere, seeping into his dreams, haunting his waking hours. The boy screamed day and night, a relentless symphony of despair that chipped away at his sanity. It was a sound that made him want to claw at his ears, to shut out the world, to escape the unbearable agony. He found himself drawn to the cell, a strange compulsion pulling him towards the constant, agonizing sound. The boy’s eyes, when he looked at Michael, were hollow, filled with a dark intensity. His face, pale and gaunt, seemed to shrink back into the shadows of the cell.

“Is there… is there something inside you?” Michael asked, his voice trembling.

The boy nodded, his voice a raspy whisper. “It’s in me. It’s here.”

“What’s its name?”

The boy paused, then whispered a name that sent shivers down Michael’s spine. It was a word he had never heard before, a word that seemed to hold an ancient power. It was a name that felt like a curse. He couldn’t bring himself to repeat it, the sound of it still echoing in his mind, a guttural whisper of darkness.

The boy’s behavior grew increasingly erratic. He clung to the bars of his cell, his fingers seeming to morph into suction cups, and then, in a flash, he slithered up the wall, his body moving with an inhuman grace that defied gravity. The guards tried to restrain him, but he seemed to melt out of their grasp, his body a phantom, a shadow that flickered in and out of existence. Michael watched, frozen, as the boy, or something inhabiting his body, moved silently down the hallway, leaving him with a creeping dread that something unseen, something evil, walked among them.

The screams continued, growing even more intense, a chilling crescendo of fear. He tried to talk to the boy, to offer him comfort, but his words were met with a chilling stare, a vacant gaze that held no recognition, only a bottomless abyss of darkness. He could sense something insidious, something alien, lurking within the boy’s eyes.

It wasn’t just that one boy. Michael saw it again and again. In the eyes of men locked in deadly brawls, eyes that turned black as coal, their faces contorted into grotesque expressions, their bodies moving with a ferocity that seemed beyond human control. They fought with a primal rage, as if fueled by a dark force, a force that seemed to take hold of them, making them creatures of pure destruction. He saw it in the vacant stares of the inmates, the way they moved, the way they spoke, their words infused with a chilling, almost supernatural intensity. He saw it in the shadows that seemed to cling to the walls, in the whispers that echoed through the corridors, a chorus of unseen horrors.

He reported these incidents to his superiors, but his concerns were met with dismissal and disdain. “You’re overworked, Michael. You need a break,” they told him. “You’re seeing things that aren’t there.” But Michael knew what he saw. It was real. And it was terrifying.

As the years passed, Michael watched his colleagues, men he considered friends, change. They became hardened, cynical, their hearts seemingly inoculated against the suffering they witnessed daily. They became lost in the maze of routines and regulations, their empathy a casualty of the system. They seemed to exist in a state of perpetual numbness, their souls hardened by the constant exposure to the dark side of humanity. Michael felt a growing sense of isolation, his empathy becoming a burden in a world where it was unwelcome.

He finally left the prison system, his soul bearing the scars of what he had seen. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the shadows he’d witnessed were not just confined to the prison walls. He started seeing them everywhere, a darkness that seemed to be encroaching.

Michael’s escape from the prison walls didn’t bring him peace. He had left the concrete and razor wire behind, but the echoes of the screams, the chilling whispers, and the vacant stares lingered, a haunting reminder of the darkness he had witnessed. His memories were a constant, gnawing presence, a reminder that the shadows he had seen were not just confined to the prison walls, but seeped into the world outside.

He tried to build a new life, to bury the horrors of his past. He found a job as a security guard at a local high school, drawn to the youthful energy and the promise of a fresh start. Yet, even amidst the vibrant chaos of teenagers, the shadows followed him. He saw them in the sullen eyes of the troubled students, in the graffiti scrawled on the walls, in the whispers exchanged in dark corners. He felt a growing unease, a sense that the darkness was spreading, that the world was becoming a breeding ground for something sinister.

One night, while patrolling the school grounds, Michael saw a group of students huddled in the shadows, their faces contorted in a terrifying display of rage. They were chanting, their voices a guttural roar that echoed through the night, their eyes gleaming with a malevolent light. It was a sight that sent a chill down his spine, a sight that brought back all the horrors of his past. The shadows he had seen in the prison were here, in this seemingly innocent school, a chilling reminder that the darkness was everywhere, waiting to consume

Michael knew he couldn’t escape the darkness, but he refused to surrender to it. He had seen the power of empathy, the way it could break through the walls of despair. He knew that the only way to fight the darkness was with light, with compassion, with hope. He would continue to fight, to offer his hand to those who were lost, to remind them that even in the darkest of times, a flicker of light can always be found

He would be a beacon, a lighthouse in the storm, a reminder that even in the face of overwhelming darkness, humanity’s spirit can still shine through. He would be a voice for the voiceless, a shield against the encroaching shadows, a testament to the enduring power of hope. For Michael knew that even in the darkest corners of the world, there was always a chance for redemption, a chance to find a spark of light, a chance to reclaim the humanity that had been so brutally stripped away