Worldbuilding Prompt #1040 - The Derelict's Tale

This post was inspired by a writing prompt in the Worldbuilding Community - Worldbuilding Prompt #1040 - Recap

Enjoy !

Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio

The derelict held up his battered tin cup, waving it from side to side hopefully.

"Spare some change for a coffee, mate ? I'll swap you a quid for a story."

Joe caught a whiff of the homeless man's stench as he leaned forward, digging into his pocket for some loose coins. A blackened sleeping bag, clothes and a body that hadn't seen a wash in who knew how long. Yellowed, dirty grey beard and filthy skin.

The man wasn't in a good shape, his only shelter the doorway of the shop, closed now as the last of the Christmas shoppers drifted off to warm homes. It was probably a good thing the weather was mild, but mild weather in December meant rain, fog and the kind of damp that crept into everything.

Dropping a handful of change into the cup, Joe suspected it was more likely to go on vodka than coffee, but if he was in this situation, he'd probably do anything to get through the comfortless night, too.

"Thanks mate," the old wreck said, his voice hoarse and gritty from too many cheap smokes and too much cheap alcohol. "So let me tell you my tale. How I escaped the Bodach. Do you know of the Bodach ?"

Joe shook his head. The word meant nothing to him, but sounded somehow threatening, atavistic.

"Well, it's a spirit. An ancient monster. Malevolent. Scottish or Irish, I dunno. So I guess that would make it malevolent. It's a shapeshifter, looked like an old man walking slowly down the road. I was dumb enough to ask him for change, just like I asked you."

The homeless man pulled a bottle out of the plastic bag behind him and took a swig before carrying on.

"How was I to know I'd asked a spirit-monster for help. He looked at me, and his eyes had flames in. Awful, it were just awful to look on. He, or it, hissed at me, said it was going to eat my soul and take over my body to lure others in so he could eat them, too."

"But I'm a quick thinker, me. Might not look it, but I am. So I said to myself, Harry you don't want this, gotta think of a way out. And I did. I begged the spirit. Give me one more day of life, I said, then you can come for me. It fell for it. I moved to a different shop doorway, this very one. I saw the spirit looking up and down the street, but I was just bundled up hidden in my sleeping bag like a pile of stinky rags, and it never saw me."

Joe smiled indulgently. "That was a good story, old man. But I've got to be off home now. Have a Happy Christmas !"

The old homeless man chuckled. "Ah, but it's all true. Every word of it. Except one part where I might have exaggerated a bit. That bit where I said I escaped... well that bit was a lie."

For the first time the homeless man looked up. Joe saw with horror that he had no eyes. Just pits of dark, dancing evil flames.