Charlie’s Demon

Sam had moved into the house six months ago but had not gotten around to checking the loft until today. To her surprise, it wasn’t as dirty and frightening as she had feared. Sure, it was gloomy and there was a half-inch of dust everywhere, but the previous owners had cleared out their belonging and laid down floorboards.

She assumed they were also the ones who had also chalked the circle on the floor and left the seven puddles of black wax at even points around the circumference.

Ignoring the Wheatley-esque artwork, she set to work transporting boxes into the loft. On her third trip, she began to notice the burning smell which was coming from the centre of the circle. In front of her eyes, a shape materialised. Though it was too dark to see any details, she received the impression of horns and hide and hooves.

The thing spoke to her, a grating parody of English:

‘Mortal wench, you called me here, and now you shall submit in fear. Human and demon, we play our role, and I will now devour your soul.’

Sam was not sure what she was witnessing, was not entirely sure she was awake, so she did the only thing that seemed to make sense to her.

‘Say what?’ she asked.

A hacking sound answered her, as if the creature was clearing its throat.

‘Mortal wench,’ it repeated, raising the volume of its voice while lowering it an octave. ‘You called me here-’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Sam said impatiently. ‘Submitting to fear, devouring souls. I heard all that. What I meant was…’ She paused as she tried to find the right words. ‘Say what?’

Silence claimed the attic. Sam could not see the beast, but she guessed its expression of confusion matched hers.

‘Um… Mortal wench…’ There was doubt in the demonic tone now.

Sam cut it off again.

‘Look, I don’t know who you are, but I did not summon you. I just don’t have the time. Speaking of, I have to crack on, so can you please just…’ She made a shooing motion with her hands, hoping the thing could see in the darkness.

‘To bid your summons, I have risen, to brief escape my hellish prison. And yet you now would try deny? I snare you, girl, within your lie.’

‘I don’t know what you think happened,’ she said as she made her way to the hole in the floor, ‘but you’re wrong. I don’t want you here so please just go back to… wherever.’

The room grew darker still. When it next spoke, the thing’s voice was but a whisper yet it filled Sam’s world.

‘When one is called, the bargain is set. To take your leave I will not let. From me there is no place to hide, especially when I come inside.’

Sam sensed movement in the attic as the thing rushed her. The stench of brimstone enveloped her and she felt a leathery touch on her back. With no warning, she was pitched headfirst through the loft opening.

The distance between the loft and the landing floor was less than three metres. Gravity pulls objects at 300,000,000 metres per second. This meant Sam should have hit the ground in less than a second, certainly less time than it took for her to make this calculation.

Her stomach lurched. She recognised the feeling from being in an elevator and the car comes to a stop, when her insides had gotten used to traveling in one direction and were slow to react as her outsides came to a rest.

She was no longer falling. Instead she just hung in mid-air upside down. Blood was filling her head. With a serene slowness, she began to turn, her legs dropping as he head rose. She was lowered gently to the floor, her feet landing softly on the carpet.

Okay, that just happened, she thought as she clutched at the wall for support.

Perplexed you are, confused you be.

Recognising the voice from the attic, she looked up but could not see anything in the dark recess.

Yet while you host that which is me, I cast on you a demon charm, to ensure you will not come to harm.

‘Host what which is who?’ Sam said aloud. Although she had not fallen and banged her head she still felt as if she were concussed.

I will protect that which I fill, and bend your laws to fit my will. Until the price – a soul – is done, we two remain together, one.

It dawned on Sam that she was not actually hearing the words, that they were just arriving in her mind. Is this like reading someone’s mind? she wondered. I wonder if it can read my mind. Hello?

No mind have I to read or see, there is only you which is also me. I feel your thoughts, both ill and nice, but must demand you pay the price.

‘Is this really happening?’ she asked. ‘Are you really in my head?’

Body, mind, soul or head, there is no place I dare not tread. Is all this true, you want to know, yet deep inside you know ’tis so.

Sam groaned, a long sound of frustration. She was already stressed by the list of tasks she had to do today and demonic possession had not been on the itinerary. This was just another example of how a woman’s work was never done. She guessed she would have to add getting an exorcism to her To Do list.