The Demon of South Street

You are either the Predator or the Prey. The Demon of South Street waits in silence as Jim Costello enters his world.

The rain was silencing everything out with a roar. The lights of the city reflected in each drop creating a deafening curtain encapsulating him in his own world. He was running. All he wanted was to get out and grab a bite to eat. Now he was running for the life he had highly valued.



For the past few days Jim Costello, no relation to the famous Costello Brothers on telivision, had kept his ears to the floor and watching the news. It was the same sordid affairs, day in and out, wether on the happier morning broadcasts or the serious nightly news. Wars were being fought, and people were dying in the streets. “Here is how you can contribute to your local homeless shelter!” The good mood stories had a dark twist.

The Homeless were here to be acknowledged. Everyone was happier when they would die in silence or panhandle on a corner opposite of them. Jim felt himself want to spit at the bad news. Maybe life was too depressing to want to hear more sob stories. Had the news and the man on telivison with a suit he could never afford ever think about that? No, he was merely a celebrity, just for his bad smile and his coworker who was professional enough to be on telivision but not sexy enough to be on the cable primetime.

The thoughts were just hitting and the lonlynes was just a reminder that his tangents of ideas were his only company. Maybe they made life interesting.

The apartment was three blocks away from the police station downtown. It was also two blocks away from the nice apartment complexes and stores, but in the shittier neighborhoods with old construction and narrow walls. The apartment wasn’t his either. He could never afford such glorious full on s**t.

The rats were a nice touch. The telivision wasn’t updated to HD. It ran these two sticks that had to be warped in certain directions. That give him something of a picture. The only other comfort light was the bulb in the bathroom. It was a fire hazzard but maybe a flash fire would benefit this district.

He walked to the window starring out at the clouds starting to form.

A voice almost came to him, like a narrator of a noir. He looks through his kingdom as the weather turns foul. Jim Costello, a man alone.

Who knew what secrets were out there? The news just told him bad news and that was the only interaction he had with humanity in these past few days.



He liked to bond over food, it is how he found the place. The “friend” was looking for a lodger to help get him through some tough times and they met online. Jim Costello had recently came into contact with a phone that had access to the internet and through there opened himself to the world. He did not know to what level the next interaction he would have would force him to become a slave of another mans castle.

Jim had also come into some money, it was all in cash but that was better than the fake money, or so he called debit cards and bank accounts. He had spent the hours before his dinner meeting with the “friend” counting his cash. The worth of a man was quite literal to him and at this point, Jim was worth about two hundred dollars and some pennies. No quarters, dimes, or nickles.

They met at a trendy and hip resturaunt uptown. Jim, coming in with the same clothes he had worn for the past few days blended in with synchronicity at the chic movement that was overtaking the over-privileged yuppy community.

When they made eye contact, as Jim was running late, he found himself tucking in his shirt hoping to make a good first impression.

“Come sit.”

The gentlemen who was overdressed did say.

His name was Patrick Bentz, or so his profile said. The two immediately shook hands and like the inferior personality, Jim slouched up in another chair.

“It is good to meet you.” Jim said in response.

“I always wanted to try this place and before my money wears out I figured one last shot at  a good meal might be nice.”

“Its just burgers and…” Jim found himself going through the menu.

They looked about the same age and it reminded Jim of The Prince and the Pauper. That was fine. He could afford one meal with the kid from another world.

“Shall we go Dutch?” Jim asked, hoping he got the expression correct.

“By all means no. F**k my mom and dad. They wanted to buy me off with this garbage, I figure I can spend their money where I want. You will be doing me a huge favor. So Mr. Costello…”

“Not of the Costello Brothers.” Jim felt thee need to add.

“Costello Brothers, I vaguely recall them in the 80’s.”

Jim couldn’t believe such a statement,  Patrick spoke as if he had been alive in the 80’s.

“Not many people knew of them.” Jim said, thanking that he got the reference. Nothing worse than being too obscure in taste and culture.

“If you don’t mind me interrupting, I think already, we are going to get alone really well. So, the room…”

“Yes, you said it was a one bedroom in the downtown district?”

“My dad found it at a steal of a deal. He was able to keep the rent down but now that my dad is in a bit of a pickle, I need a room mate to help me pay the adjusted price.”

“You said something about your mom and dad though…”

Patrick looked to see if anyone was paying attention. He leaned in, making direct eye contact. He set up a smirk and stated, “My mom is trying to bribe me with money to move back to the old house. She is even pulling strings to screw me over if I don’t. But I say….f**k….that! I want to prove I can be a man and control my destiny. You feel the same way?”

Destiny, their meeting was destiny. The guy was likable enough and the kind who if he wanted to run away from the world, the world might believe that. Plus he had a place!


The s**t hole.

The clouds were getting darker and the news was playing again. It was either sad news or puppets on telivision directed for children.

Kids telivision was the worst. Perhaps it was better to hear about the exploits of the homeless population, the missing children, and some story about Sal’s Pizza Feastsa’s newest location.

It had been days since he had a fresh new meal. He was tired of the same kitchen left overs. The fridge could only do so much. He turned his eyes down towards a lonely ditch below him. It was an alleyway that lead to nothing but darkness. There waiting was no doubt some beautiful slice of humanity and waste that was hiding from the rest of the living world. There nothing waited for him but his imaginations.

Maybe there was a dead body there? The news, his nemises, was almost done covering the disapearances and dead bodies found. These stories gave Jim quite the chill but for the wrong reasons. Jim remembered when the first dead body was found, and the first time they linked it to three disapearences within the same city block in that one week.

The police did not comment but one ballsy broadcaster had the gall to ask was this the work of a single individual and where these dead bodies all tied together?

The thought made Jim start stress eating on the one last leftover leg he had. Fortunately with time the morbid “is there a serial killer” news wasw winding down.  What was left of that baby dumpling of a leg was not enough to satisfy him. Jim turned around and saw his roommate for a brief hair of a second, but then remembered he was alone in this s**t hole of an apartment.

All Patrick had wanted was a place to call his own and a handout from a stranger to lie to himself that he was independent and in charge of his life. Now Patrick was gone, a punch line to his own white privilege joke. Jim would need to eat something substansive soon, or his hunger might drive him out of his mind. But did The Demon of South Street exist?

Jim Costello put down what was left of Patrick’s leg and warily went to open the front door.



“There is always the hunter and the hunted.”

Jim Costello had took this too account before he headed to the surface world and took on a human face. On day one of killing his first victim, he stole their phone and found on the device, not sure how to use it, the joy of streaming telivision. In order to appear human he thought it best to learn from their culturue. He spent the first week watching old classic films and black and white shows.

Without a real concept of time and culture he equated life to the noir hero or the famous comic duos being in film after film without a real care or threat to the world outside. He also had watched a lot of news trying to understand how the world around him worked.

Unfortunately all he could do was seemingly mesh among the homeless. They were a disgusting lot and he refused to see himself as one of them. He was a predator after all and he needed to support himself. They were less than scum, the bottom of the ocean in which he would feed. They were a constant reminder that if he was not eating his way through the food chain, there was no difference between them and he.

There was a bar not so far from where he first had encountered the cell phone which gave him all the perverbial knowledge of the world. Through it, and its findings he understood the world. At the bar, it was a place for other “things” such as he.

It was there he learned well that there was an order to the world that he, as a new being of it, would know and understand.

“There is always the hunter and the hunted.” The monster with no name was telling his circle of friends. “You will survive long on the top if you remember this.”

“Excuse me, what do you mean there is always? Do you mean sometimes rthe situation can change?” Jim had asked.

“Last week four of our brethren were killed by the human known only as the Demon of South Street.”

“A human? You must be kidding?”

The room went quiet.

“There are stories of humans who hunt us.” The creature continued.

“I have seen one. Me and my friend Donny, were being chased by a group of children in De Moise.”  The noise belonged to a sheepish horned looking creature with a childishly shrill voice and scaredy cat eyes. Jim instantly thought of this one as a fool who had no place to contribute to this conversation. Cowards and liars existed in every realm.

“And what happened?” Jim asked.

“I mean they died easy enough. They had wooden stakes, a cross and one person thought a replica sword would help him.”

The leader creature calmed the man down.

“The Demon of South Street is another matter. Some kids play foolish games and get eaten. But every once in awhile, you will find that there is a spider just sitting in the wing watching as we all dance in its web. We live because they allow it.”

Jim dared to accuse, “You are talking bullshit.”

“Of course I am my friend, but the moment you think you are the top of the food chain, you may find that your already in their web.”

“I just need to keep my head low, right?” Jim asked.

The creature smiled.


The rain was dripping on him. It was a subtle reminder that he was alive and yet he felt its sorrow. Somewhere out there, statistics showed that suicides increased during the rain, and a waste of a body he will never get to find. He wasn’t lucky enough to stumble upon a body or have one walk up to him and offer itself like an episode of The Shrink.

The noir hero was the hunter. He was the underdog looking to prove his worth. Down and out on his luck he searches for the next sustenance like a case that await a private dick. He wished he had a cigarette right now but in the rain and with no money made the imagery highly impractical. Plus the smoke gave him too much kick and attitude.

He decided today he was going to try something different, he would go right on Subway Drive instead of his usual left. It would take him closer to the fancy district and maybe he could find something less sad to feast on. He was what he ate and he was dead tired of eating nobodies.
He entertained an idea of getting enough cash on a body to take a train out of town and start in a new city, one with beautiful lights and big things happening. Not this cesspool. Also he heard of a demon community in South City but they were highly selective. Elite of elite and he felt he wasn’t really there yet.

A lady drenched in a coat, a trash bag, and cuddling next to a cat that looked like it cared a lot less than she wished it did. She was not his type. Not tonight. Though he wished she would die anyway and make the world a little less ugly.

Remember be careful, he told himself. He wanted to avoid setting up any more of a pattern than he already was. The police chief laughed at the thought of it being connected, his online “apps” were laying it as conspiracy theories. One more dead body, one more missing body, could change that.

His footsteps were frantic, the thrill of the hunt mixing with his rising tesnuin and anxiety. He felt goosebumps on his legs grow painful. The beast was almost completely taking over. Perhaps after this kill he could focus on finding ways of working through alternative food sources. That however would be a labor of time and money, two things he didn’t have a knack for.

The drops were sprinkling off his brow and the rain from the north was being pushed south making the wave of water heavier and faster. It was becoming a blinding sheet where he could barely see feet in front of him. Jim pictured himself like a shark in the water.

There was this aroma. Was it magic? It was a strange feeling, one that touched him on an instinctual level. The promise of a flavorful meal. Something fulfilling. Jim thought at best it was just the randomness of the world urging him in a direction. He was a street away from the posh district, he could run into anything here.

Two children, poor, huddled in a box. One older, protecting the younger brother. Not what he wanted, he looked on. A black cat crossed his path in the rain.

He took two steps then wondered, in what show has a cat stayed outside in the rain?

The cat stared at him, the fur, was not wet.

The F**k?

It ran away.

In the direction of the cat was a man. He was six foot something, maybe a little under. He was slouched with a giant grey coat and fog belching from the cold. It was at that moment the demon posing as a Jim Costello found its prey.

The figure turned around and walked into an alley, the same alley the cat disappeared to. The creature as if sensing purpose and permission followed. The rain held its low level line of sight, but Jim liked it this way. It shut out the noise of his mind and thought. Gone were the inadequacies of his human life. He did not think how he feasted off the homeless and the dregs of society so that he could build a life for himself in a world he still was learning about. This was his realm.

The alley grew dark and suddenly a new instinct kicked in. Turn around. Run.

But wait, then why did he feel the need to walk in this direction in the first place? Unless, that voice in his head wasn’t his own.

The figure in grey garb stopped. It turned around and started to breath calmly.

The instinct was screaming! Run!

The Alpha predator stood before him.

He was a man in his late 30’s early 40’s. His stressed brow showed sadness. His beard, short but unkempt. His eyes were of dark black fire.

“So, you are the one behind the killings.” The bearded man stepped forward with niether fear nor bravery.

Jim stopped.

“There were two of you feasting granted, but I got the other one last week. The reason the cops didn’t think they were all connected was cause you had two different M.O.’s  It blurred the pattern.”

Jim could only whisper, “The Demon of South Street?”

The unassuming figured grew even closer. “You can just call me Jules.”

Jim had no words. He knew he was staring Death in the face.

Jules smirked. “You can run now.”


Minutes had passed. The rain was now his enemy. Jim Costello turned around and saw nothing. He then heard foot steps catching up to him. He turned around and saw the bearded man right behind him. In terror he found his feet go faster but only for a spurt. He used what demonic power he had left in him.

He did not know why he was being led this way, however he knew by what scenery he came across the police department was near. Just two blocks away. He pounded his feet until there was nothing but needles going back up to his brain. He turned around and it looked like the figure was out of sight. Two steps forward. He heard those sounds again, as if the pursuer had superior speed and was letting him think that he was ahead. He turned around one last time but nothing. Yet he was hearing those footsteps of those shoes like they were still there.

One thing he knew, he stopped. He would die.

The police station though. There is no way that anyone of magical ability and being would use magic in such public a place. How ironic, he would use the police station for protection.

The sounds were catching up to him.

If only he could make it…


He was inside. Two minutes ago, a random stranger from the street, drenched in sweat had been yelling “Sanctuary!”  

They put him in a room to unwind. The gentleman was calling himself a victim of a death threat. Instead of calling a lawyer he called a friend. Someone he met at a bar. The phone call was strangely short.

“I need someone to pick me up.”

“Where are you?”

“South Side Precinct.”

“We will send someone to get you out. Just relax, you will be safe.”

“Thanks.”

“South side?”

“I saw him, the Demon of South Street.”

Pause.

The words the caller did not hear were this, “You’re trapped. Goodbye.”


“You say your name is Jim Costello?”

“Yeah, not related to the Costello Brothers.”

The figure in front of him looked down from his spectacles. He was about five or six feet give or take inches, white, a little scruffy with strong eyes and thick brows.

“That isn’t funny.”

“I just had a day.” Jim Costello let out a sigh. He was coming off the highs and lows of being chased and escaping successfully.

They were in an interview room but there was this strange feeling begin to seep in. It was the feeling of being watched but, he couldn’t sense anyone nearby other than the two of them.

That wouldn’t be suprising but he watched a lot of cop shows, there is always someone watching on the other side…but nothing. The interview room and the one way mirror leading to the room full of cops, that was empty. It wasn’t important but his legs were starting get the bumps again. The fear was wanting to rise but the confusion within him was playing tricks.

Whatever it was, he wasn’t sure if he was safe or…

“My name is Detective Lamont. I want to ask you about the South Street Murders and the two corpses found In Old City.”

“I don’t know what your talking about” is what he said. What Jim wanted to yell, “How the f**k did you find out about the two up north!?”

“The two corpses. Leslie Pele and Charles Jefferies. Have you heard of these people?”

“I do not understand I thought I was here for protection. I mean I thought I was going to be a victim.”

Detective Lamont leaned forward and a metaphorical fire was in his eyes. It scared Jim but he did not want to admit it. The connection between his sets of victims had him completely ajar.

“You are a victim. Of that I have no doubt. But if you help me, this will really help our investigation.”

“I was chased by this bearded man.”

“The bearded man? The man with some semblance of hair. The man with a funny nose. We hear a lot of vague statements.”

“What do you want to know? I mean how can I help you?” Jim asked one question but all he was wondering was how could he refrain from digging his own grave. He did not understand how anyone could make any connection and the fear of getting caught with something he knew he had made no evidence or tie to…

It was like a creature sniffing in a house with a person hiding. No matter how impossible the creature was walking closer as if it knew and was toying with its prey.

“So, was it food or necessity?”

Jim Costello froze. He had no answer. Maybe the detective had no evidence. He couldn’t!

“I do not know what you are talking about. If you are going…”

Detective Lamont said, as if stating a fact that could not be desputed, “They were killed and eaten.”

“You have no proof. And I watch enough law shows to know if you have no proof.”

Detective Lamont smirked just slightly, “I don’t need proof.”

“You… you can’t harass me like this! Where is your partner? Where is a witness!? I demand…”

Detective Lamont flipped a switch. Behind the one way mirror glass laid the worst surprised in Jim Costello’s short life. There was no one there. It was empty.

“Yes, we are alone. The recorder isn’t even on.”

“What is going on here? What is this!? I need a lawyer! I need you to leave the room and get me a…”

“No one knows you’re here. You know that, right?”

“What is going on?”

“You see my dear friend; I am an illusionist. I mean I do a lot of other fun stuff but the thing I can do best, like no one else you have ever met, is illusion magic.”

Detective Lamont then sat backwards and leaned against his chair. He followed up with the statement, “You know you’re fucked, right?”

Jim knew well, he just hadn’t put the last piece of the puzzle together. Just what level of a trap was he in?

“There was no bearded man chasing you. You claim you saw the Demon of South Street. What you saw a projection. They have been running me on paper work that I havent really been able to leave this building for the past three days. So I needed to lure you, to me.”

The figure of the detective started to warp, like a computer rendering changing and decalcifying. Then it became a fog and then the fog began to disapate.

Jim recognized the figure inside the room now. “The one called…”

“Jules. I go by many names but yeah. I am going to kill you now.”

Jim fell back on his chair and began to scramble to stand up. The bearded man pounced and grabbed Jim by the hair and slammed him back down.

“Please…don’t…”

His life flashed before his eyes, and all he thought over all his dead victims, “I was hungry.”

The law of the jungle was about who was the predator, and who is the prey. On this day, in an abandoned wing of the police precinct, Jim Costello was the prey.

Author's Note

Not edited. So any feedback or criticisms are more than welcomed. I hope the suspension and tension work.