"If He is benevolent, why am I here?"

His voice is a car engine refusing to turn over when the killer is steps away from the window. He speaks in fits and starts, and his sentences are punctuated with wheezing coughs. His eyes are red brake lights illuminating shadowy figures in the dark; the killer isn't alone.

But there is no car. There are no killers in the dark. The two of them stand several feet apart, surrounded not with an audience of murderers creeping in the night, but by moonlight shining through tall pines and live oaks.

This used to be a crossroads, before white men arrived in floating coffins, carrying with them a new God. Game trails now mark where coastal tribes would journey inland to trade for deerskins or pottery.

They stand, the summoner and the summoned. The living and the undying.

"So you say God isn't good, bruv?"

He recoils at the g-word and it is a reassuring sign of weakness.

"I should show you your insides for wasting my time." He looms, growing several feet in the darkness. His is a shadow deeper than those cast by the moonlight, and his eyes narrow into crimson slits, demonstrating anger and seething hatred.

"Good thing that circle is there, innit?" The man is confident, but wary. He's done this dance before, but he can never relax.

"I grow tired of your games, little man. I no longer wish to speak."

"Oh, did I interrupt something important? Were you and the boys just having a grand time, torturing the wicked or being cast into a herd of swine? Tell me. Is Hell really all fire and brimstone, or is the heart of the place a giant lump of ice, with your boss trapped like a fly in amber?"

People miles away will swear they were awakened by a peal of thunder, others will claim an Air Force jet broke the sound barrier over civilian territory. No one would ever believe the anger of a demon was something that could disturb the physical world in such an incredibly powerful way.

"I serve no one. There is no boss."

"Bullshit."

The demon shrank his form into more of an animal, something the size and shape of an extremely large wolf with wings. The dimensions weren't quite right, but the snout was there, along with the bestial sense of the thing. He lunged at the man, but rebounded off an invisible shield that faintly glowed with the creature's impact.

"Watch that temper, tiny. You're still in the circle."

"Release me. Test yourself against me then, human."

"Do I strike you as stupid, demon?"

"You summoned me."

"Fair point."

"Why? Do you wish a bargain in these crossroads?"

"Ah. No, thank you. I only wanted to chat."

"You risk your soul to speak to me?"

The human chuckles. "Not even close, big guy. I was bored."

The demon seems genuinely confused, having reverted to a vaguely humanoid form. He is still bestial, with vestiges of a snout and a haphazard collection of fangs.

The man regards his prisoner. "Show me your true face."

"To see my true face would be to trade your sanity for satisfaction."

"Oh, sorry. I wasn't asking. Let's try this again, Marchosias. Show. Me. Your. True. Face."

Thunder and rage again fill the world, but the demon does as he is told. Floating, softly glowing, the many eyes of the Lord regard the man. Wings ripple, but no wind comes off them. The demon, now in the skin of an Angel, speaks.

"Be afraid."

"I think the line is be not afraid, but you already know that."

Silence is the response, and the two regard one another for a span of minutes. Finally, the man speaks.

"Thank you."

The demon almost seems surprised. "For what?"

"For proving that God exists."

"You've known He exists."

"Yes, but from time to time, I need to be reminded."

"Your knowledge is not faith, and it will not save you."

The man sadly nods. With a shrug, he turns to walk away. Looking back over his shoulder, he speaks at this crossroads for the final time.

"Do me a favor, bruv. Go to hell."

With a barely audible *pop*, the summoning ends and John Constantine walks away.

It first came to me in the form of a cricket. Bright yellow green and moving with deliberation towards me. I was standing in the kitchen. Inside, facing the curtain, about to check the weather in mid-winter, it flew from my pant leg onto the sheer white drape, and I extended a finger. It returned to me and played its cello melody across the room. The sound, like itself, appearing from nowhere.

Fancying it was hungry, I urged it to the drapery momentarily as I hurried to the counter to scrape a shred of carrot; and uncertain of tastes, I layered it over an equally thin slicing of celery. He seemed to inhale them both, through the mandibles, and thanks to the coloring I could see the food travel through the three-inch body. I stared in fascination for ten minutes. I was astonished, I cannot say why, that on conclusion, he promptly shat. Feeling I had imposed beyond politeness, I turned back to the counter to clean up the vegetables. On turning around, my unexpected friend was nowhere to be found. A week later, I can't say I heard it; I remembered the tune.

Brown crickets sing by the chimney, but there was no one there.

The next time it came to me as a black cat on the front doorstep. It was persistent. Green eyes the color of fresh young cricket. Friendly aggressive, it pushed its way inside the house and made residence. I had put a box, as compromise, on the front stoop thinking it belonged to someone and was just passing through. No sooner had I given in and brought the box into the front hall, then she climbed in and began a heavy panting. I though, lord it will die! I gave water, and on drinking she began to bleed from the backside, subsequently as I witnessed, giving birth to three kittens. All of them found eager home among distant neighbors. And then she left. I thought I saw her on the large rock by the main road, but there are many black cats aren't there?

Then it came to me as a rabbit. The shrieking was otherworldly. That is the cry of endangered bunnies. I parted the brown leaves with the tip of the sickle. Four of them. Three died, of hunger or fright I cannot say. The Fourth I nursed with eyedropper and baby doll bottle. It grew strong, quickly, and larger, though I cannot say if full grown. I only know it was ready. It gave me a long look, a parting blink and bounded lively out the door. I thought it peaked over the grasses, reddish fur glowing radiant in the summer sun and eyes black as a sleek panther.

It came to me, once again as unexpected blessing soon after in the grass, as a white infant mouse, red eyes shining...

I now believe, thanks to my Tasmanian online friend, that it was always my own Powobawa, shift shaping and checking in.

12.18.2023

The Uncommon Occults challenge @AJAY9979

As a young child my family took a trip to Kansas City, Missouri. With us went my grandparents who drove separately, my parents, my sister and my baby brother. Our plan was to spend two nights in a nice hotel we found, so on day one we got the zoo out of the way and ordered dinner to be delivered to the hotel.

That night, my brother started coughing and wouldn’t stop. As far as I know this wasn’t because of the food. He must’ve been getting sick anyway, but he couldn’t stop and his face was turning blue, so my parents packed him into the car and peeled off, leaving my sister and I with our grandparents at the hotel for the night.

Due to insurance or something of the sort they couldn’t go to the nearest hospital there in Kansas City, so they had to drive the however many miles home. They drove and drove and were guided along with the Garmin GPS we had hooked up. About half an hour before they made it to the hospital back at home, the GPS decided to have them take a backroads route around the city just outside of the town we lived. They thought it was weird but the GPS told them it was the quickest way there, so my dad drove that way.

Through the headlights, he started seeing things in the trees. He’s told me that that road was the scariest stretch of road he’s ever driven through, and as he passed, he’s told me that he saw faces peering from behind the trees, people standing and staring. This is a phenomenon that he has experienced throughout his life, where he will see people or things in vacant houses or scary places, and the wooded backroads they drove through was the worst of them all. He found himself praying under his breath, my mom completely oblivious to all this. To her, they were driving quickly down a strange stretch of road that she hoped would turn into a more clearly defined space soon, and that was all.

When my dad prayed, the car began to shake. My mom, oblivious to the people he saw, was not oblivious to the car shaking, and she felt the same whooshing sound that my dad did. Something happened to the car, but they continued to move. When they looked around at the trees, they realized they had left that creepy road behind, and were finally on a patch of well-marked road. The bridge into town was approaching, and the hospital sat just on the other side.

But they made it 25 minutes early. When the car made the whooshing sound that they both felt, my mom noticed that the GPS quickly recollected itself, and told them that they were only 3 minutes away from the hospital, when just seconds before they were 28. The entirety of the town before ours had evaporated, and they found themselves at the tail end of a long and winding backroads.

Something saved them, something saved my brother. When they made it to the ER the doctors were able to do whatever operation they needed, and without much of a hassle, my brother made a complete recovery.

My grandparents drove my sister and I home the following morning. My brother would go on to swallow the head of a Spider-Man figurine the following week, and when he did, he was completely fine as well.

I was alone, but I could feel somebody staring at me. Who was here with me?It was my day off. My four year old was at school, my husband was at work, and I was alone. The lights started to flicker, even though it was the middle of the day. I saw shadows of faces, and yes, they scared the hell out of me. I started to rise, and levitate in mid air. What was going on? I was a new witch, but they didn't warn me about this. They didn't warn me that spirits could consume my entire body. I started praying, but they didn't like that. NO, they gave me scratches on my arms, and goose bumps down my legs. I didn't like where this was going at all, I didn't like this one bit.

I guess all I can say is that I should have read the fine print.

When people think of the fae, yes they think of the endless hills of Scotland or muggy, fog shining woods deep across London.

Not so much the Golden Gate Bridge and beachside vacation villas of San Francisco.

"Tony we love you," Mom had assured, "you are our son."

"We didn't mean to, we should have told you," Papa agreed, tone much more unsure then he'd ever remembered hearing.

"When you were young..."

"Our son the same age, give or take..."

"They don't keep sick infants... WE hardly knew or believed it once an old friend outed it all to us!"

I ran.

Lying. They were lying, lying LIARS!

I knew I wasn't an easy child.

Then was that why?

The piercings? His lips dotted with dual silver nicks and a mess of metal across each lobe.

The black lips?

Was it easier to tell me I wasn't theirs? Wasn't even human?

Did they mean to show that to me, how bizarre I was or was being that it was easier to believe some crack story of me being-- being a fairy?

I had frozen when forced to face my own reflection in the glass of a glossy cafe sign. The menu currently absent.

Eyes blown wide, tears rimming and trailing down my cheeks and skin blotched red I must have looked a right frightmare.

***************************

Lizea was no bigger than perhaps a three year old toddler.

Toes bare and skin a translucent blue she fled as fast as those two singular feet could take her.

Wings tinkling uselessly within a tangle of thin, metallic wire.

Her palms smacked a wall, as her pursuers bared down upon her.

In time for an arrow to pierce the wall.

Spewing a screaming mist.

From it's reddish rust colored confines did a shadow glide and slice off the walls overhead. Treads of modern sneakers leaving faint imprints on concrete and the whip of butterfly silk scarves and gloves.

Both embroidered with glittering jewel beads denoting special rank.

A second and third comrade scooped up the young fae, bleeding a sludging black from a shallow cut exposing her midriff lined in the starting pattern of scales.

She sobbed an apology.

The air smelled of putrid, deathly exhaust. A suffocating smog.

What a disgusting tripe.

I wanted to wipe the smell, the decay and sickening stain off myself and my fabric.

The elders had said once long ago; "By their own hands shall the Blight fall."

And so it was written that human children were exchanged. With their rejected fairies or those punished and regressed in their cycle of everlasting, never ceasing life.

For the time being, only I had come to adulthood.

Fifteen years of age this very day, designated for the day my human life was forfeited.

*************************

Finding out that surprise, I didn't even belong in this world was not the birthday I'd expected.

Nor was a week at the beach what I had expected for a birthday trip. Not since I took up the goth aesthetic but I rolled. Didn't raise any sort of fuss.

But I didn't expect to be emotionally sucker punched and then beat black and blue on the shore.

So that's it.

No fanfare, no heartfelt note or email, I was running away.

I was going to find out what hacks had dropped me at the first human crib they'd found and whether the human with "my"-- quite the vague notion-- face was still alive or had been eaten.

(tw: cursing, mentions of blood&death, incorrect capitalization and punctuation)

going outside is nice

that is until youre running up the stairs into your house as quickly as possible while a car charged up the hill at you

your cries are silent, muted by the roar that no one else can hear.

its going to kill you and unless your legs can safely reach the door it will succeed in its task.

you glance back at it, raising a hand with all fingers down except the middle one

going outside is nice

that is until you jump up from your little bench, screaming as the roars make their way from the street below and up the hill, to your back yard.

you try to cry for your parents help but cant be heard over the car engine in your ears. its only in your ears.

the engine seeks the contact to your flesh, the crack to your bones, the blood it will get when it crushes your skull

you race towards the stairs to your door, climbing them as those headlights near you, screaming for your death on its hood

you glance at the door, knowing you wont make it and scream in an attempt to get the care away

"FUCK OFF"

going outside is nice

that is until you see the car

its headlights pointed at the houses at the bottom of the hill

the light slightly casts onto you aswell

you freeze, knowing better than to wait more than a minute

you dont want to risk your death

you raise your hand, middle finger up and hold it

the car turns onto the road

the car leaves

youre finally free

good luck tomorrow night

tomorrow night the bus comes and the only way to escape is to hide before it sees you