Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-36393004-20180808214225

Peter and two friends had been visiting a neighboring town for a county fair. Brian and Samantha had been dating but knew Peter could always use some company. Peter hating being the third wheel but hated sitting at home alone even more. It never took much convincing to get their lonely friend to tag along. It was your typical small town fair. One big tent in the center for main attractions, a handful of rides circling it, and game or food venders wedged in-between. They all loaded onto a small cart that resembled a scaled down roller coaster and within ten minutes it was over. The group exited and Samantha suggested funnel cakes at the vendor nearby. Peter wasn’t all that hungry and the couple shared a single cake.

“So, what are you going to do your senior essay on Peter?” Samantha prodded as she and Brian walked behind Peter arm-in-arm.

Peter had been struggling with his assignment all semester. Almost everyone he knew had finished and he was still struggling to find a topic. He had to turn in something amazing to get his grade back up or he would never make it into the community college, let alone a four year school. “I still have no idea but I have to come up with something and quick,” he replied.

“Yeah bud, you only have two weeks left and if you don’t turn something in you are going to be stuck flipping burgers,” Brian said with a chuckle. Peter rolled his eyes slightly even though he knew Brian was right. Brian had rich parents and rarely wanted for anything. Peter knew that his rock star friend would easily make it into some university, even if it meant his parents had to grease the wheels. Samantha wasn’t much different in the fact she had little to worry about. She had always had great grades and had already received early acceptance to Columbia. Meanwhile, there was Peter, just trying to graduate high school. Finally he responded, “Well, if either of you two have any good ideas I am all ears.”

Just as the words came from his mouth they came upon a very brightly colored tent. Just outside the cloth drapery used as a door a sign read, “Madame Michonne the Mystic”. Samantha slapped Peter on the shoulder before she spoke, “There you go! Let’s see if she can give you the answers you’re looking for.” Peter really didn’t like the idea. He had never really believed in any of that kind of hocus-pocus but his two friends pushed him toward the door with a laugh. Before he knew it they had entered a carpet strewn parlor. The only chairs where oversized throw pillows arrange around a table just high enough to squat next to with the cliché crystal ball sitting at the center.

“Hello,” Brian called out to the empty room. After a few seconds they could hear someone shuffling from the back of the tent. A tingling could be heard with each step and as the figure emerged from another veil the trio noticed that she was shakily carrying a saucer with a tiny cup of tea upon it. Her hair was matted and graying, her face worn with years of travelling with the carnival folk, and her eyes seemed foggy. The purple velvet dress that lay over her frame did little to hide the fact that she was mostly skin and bones.

“Ah, welcome,” she spoke quietly but rather enthused. Her voice was slightly raspy, the kind of grating that comes from years of smoking but gentle. She motioned for the teens to take a seat across from her and she slowly lowered herself into place. Peter looked at his friends with uncertainty but they were already taking a seat. He sighed and sat down beside Brian.

“So, which of you here is looking for answers?” the lady asked quizzically. Two fingers pointed to Peter before he could even respond. “Of course,” the aging lady said with a smile growing on her face. “I had a feeling it was you. I can see a lot of turmoil in you. You have questions and I think I can answer them,” she stopped to sip from her tea then set it back down on the table, “Let’s get started shall we?” Peter simply nodded, wanting to get this whole show over with. She reached out her hand and asked for his. Peter placed his palm in hers reluctantly as she turned it over to look at the lines upon it. Her boney index finger traced the lines along his palm and stopped in the center of it before speaking, “Do you see this point here that diverges? Peter nodded and she quickly continued, “This means you have a choice ahead of you and depending on your choice your future has two very different outcomes.”

Peter tried not to appear to be unimpressed but her answer seemed so vague. Everyone has to make choices every day that can drastically change their lives. She could tell that her answer left him underwhelmed. “You must make this choice before weeks end but I see you making the wrong one,” she frowned. This made Peter’s eyes furrow. What did this old hag know anyway? She laughed, “I know a lot more than you might think, little boy.” Peter pulled his hand back at the idea of her hearing his thoughts. “I can help you make the right choice,” she smirked as a small slip of paper was removed from under the table. “These are instructions. If you follow them carefully you will find the answers you seek. If you do not, then your life is forfeit,” her words became cold and the light seemed to dim around her as she spoke them. Peter took the piece of paper and almost unfolded it before the crone placed her hand over it and said, “Not here, not now. You must be alone. The instructions are clear. Go now.” They all stood up and Samantha asked what was owed for the reading. “You owe nothing. A debt was made and a debt is paid. Just follow the instructions carefully Peter,” she said with a farewell.

Later that night Peter sat, legs folded over one another, at the center of a dusty wooden floor. Light from the full moon filtered through a sepia tinted window a few feet above his head. He had not set foot in this attic space since he was a boy. It had been a place of fear for him, even now. This is the reason he chose it for this ritual. Slowly an image in black was scrawled across the splintered boards. A circle at first then two triangles sat upon their head creating a mirror image of each and appeared to connect into an ‘X’. The outer vertices would be connected by waved lines and a straight line would bisect the two triangles. The bisecting line would extend out and form crosses on each side and another cross would drop down within the bottom triangle. Sat below the bottom triangle would be two right angle triangles pushed together to form an isosceles. Each ending line would then have a circle at its peak. He sat down his chalk and looked back at the paper within his hand. He wanted to be sure not to make a single mistake. Then, one at a time, he lit six yellow candles around the circle before looking up into the full length mirror in front of him. Drawing in a deep breath and placing the slip of paper before him, he prepared to repeat the phrase it had instructed.

“Lord Satan, by your grace, grant me, I pray thee the power to conceive in my mind and to execute that which I desire to do, the end which I would attain by thy help, Oh Mighty Satan, the one true God who livest and reignest forever and ever. I entreat thee to inspire Ose to manifest before me that he may give me true and faithful answer, so that I may accomplish my desired end, provided that it is proper to his office. This I respectfully and humbly ask in Your Name, Lord Satan, may deem worthy, Father,” the words were shaky as they fell from his lips. Even as he said them a seed of doubt began to bloom. After a few moments of staring into the mirror he began to wonder if this all was a big mistake. He sat shaking, unsure of what might come. It felt unnaturally cold, even for November. His chest grew tight as he held his breath. It was so quiet he could hear his heart beat. After a few moments of nothing occurring he let out a sigh. “I knew this was stupid. Why did I ever believe some fortune teller?” he scoffed in the dark. Blowing out the candles, he left the mess to clean up in the morning and then headed back down to go to bed.

While trying to enter his locker combination the following day at school a loud bang made Peter jump. Brian laughed as he stood there with his palm still resting on the adjacent locker. Samantha pushed an elbow into her boyfriend’s stomach as punishment before looking back to Peter and asking, “So, what did you find out?”

“Nothing,” Peter replied, “I think that old bat was just trying to get a rise out of me.” He opened his locker and shoved in his backpack before removing the book and materials he would need for his first class. “I think it was supposed to be some kind of summoning spell,” he continued, “You know those kind you read about in urban legends where you set out candles and talk into a mirror.” His friends laughed at the thought of him sitting in the dark talking to himself in a mirror.

Brian couldn’t contain his laughter, “Oh man, you didn’t did you?” Peter rolled his eyes and slammed the door to his locker before walking away from them. “Come on man, you should have known that stuff never really works. They made up things like that to scare little kids,” Brian continued to mock him. Samantha popped Brian between the legs, causing him to stumble a bit and groan. When he gained his composure he ran up to Peter and dropped a hand on his shoulder, “Listen man, I shouldn’t laugh. It was our idea to talk to that crazy broad in the first place. I honestly thought it might help you rattle out an idea for your paper. I had no idea she was going to have you jump through hoops.”

“It’s fine,” Peter sighed, “I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. I will just have to figure it out the old fashioned way. The group parted ways and attended their classes. Peter spent most of his day jotting down ideas and trying to come up with something worthy of an ‘A’ for his paper. By the final bell the only thing he had managed to accomplish was a full page drawing of a leopard. He wasn’t quite sure why but he felt the need to draw it. Folding it into fourths, he shoved it in his back pocket and made his way for his bus. Standing there, wishing he had a car like his friends, he thought about the slip of paper that the fortune teller had given him. He pulled it from his backpack and began reading it again.

“Find a place of solitude. The only light should be six candles of amber or azure. Prepare the altar with the sigil shown below. Place thyself within sight of a mirror. It must show your entire form. Speak aloud the words shown below exactly as written. When He arrives, ask your question politely and with respect. An answer will be given but a price must be paid,” he read the words again. What could he have done wrong? His bus arrived and he climbed aboard still pondering the question. He read through it over and over during the forty-five minute ride home. As he stepped down in front of his house it finally dawned on him. He was supposed to be in complete darkness. The window had been open. That’s the only thing he could come up with that hadn’t been exactly as the instructions stated. He decided to try one more time and if it didn’t work that slip of paper could go in the trash for all he cared.

Peter laid in bed waiting for his parents to retire for the night. Once the dim glow of the living room lamp turned out he knew that it wouldn’t be long before the house would be still. He gave it about thirty more minutes and crept from his bed. He would have to pass through the kitchen and out into the garage. The pull down stairs that lead to the attic where at the far side. He reached up grabbing hold of the thin string that dangled. With a little weight the steps lowered then he folded out the rest of them. He pressed down on the bottom rung a couple of times to test it. It was something he did out of a misplaced fear. He use to imagine breaking through the steps and falling onto the hard concrete floor below. It held, so he made his way back up again. His altar was still where he had left it at the edge of the attic. The moonlight allowed him to navigate to the candles. Pulling a lighter from his pocket he lit each one until he could clearly see around him. He would have to cover the window to block out the ambient light. A few minutes searching through storage boxes revealed an old comforter his grandmother had made many years before. He draped the thick cloth over the window pane and stepped back to make sure no light seeped through. Once he was satisfied he took a seat across from the mirror and placed the small piece of paper in front of him. Once again he recited the prayer that had been given to him and waited.

Peter was almost ready to give up when he heard a low creaking noise. It sounded as if it was coming from the stairs to his right. As he squinted his eyes to see clearer in the dark the door to the attic rose and slammed shut. He almost fell backwards when his body jolted is surprise. That door was heavy and to close it properly the bottom rungs would have had to be folded up. He rationalized that his father must have noticed it down and closed it. His voice quivered as he called out to the night, “Dad?” There was no answer. Again, he called out, “Mom?” He could only hear his own breathing. He began to shake uncontrollably. There was no way that door just closed on its own. As if blow by a gust of wind the flame of each candle whipped violently side-to-side. Peter slid backwards until his back rested against a wooden trunk. He looked up and noticed he could no longer see his reflection in the mirror or the light from the candles. The silver backed glass looked more like a pool of black that held no reflection at all. Then as his terror had almost reached its peak, the flame from the candle was snuffed out and he was left in darkness.

It came with a deep rumble. Staring low and then rising in volume as something drew nearer to him in the emptiness. Then he saw it, two round yellow orbs floated about the distance of the mirror. These definitely where not human. Like a light switch being flicked the candles came alight once more and there in the mirror crouched a leopard. It sat watching Peter intently, the tail waving side-to-side. Peter’s heart felt as though it was in his throat and even though his mouth hung wide there was no way he could form words. Seconds felt like hours but soon the creature spoke, “What have you summoned me for?” The cat’s mouth didn’t move. The voice simply manifested within Peter’s mind. The sound echoed much like a cry for help in a cavern. “Come now, I am not very patient,” it rang again.

Peter truly hadn’t expected anything to happen and his mind scrambled to make sense of what he was hearing and seeing. He knew he had to ask his question. The fortune teller had told him that any error could be fatal. I could only imagine what would happen if I wasted a demon’s time. “I um…,” he began, “I respectfully request your guidance.” His eyes darted around the room as his mind grasped for words. “I am in need of your wisdom,” the words came slowly through his quivering lips.

“See, that wasn’t so hard now was it?” the voice rumbled in Peter’s mind again as the beast began to easy forward. The forward paw pressed outward from the mirror and pass through it like liquid. The black pulled back from the fur and returned to the wooden frame. It continue forward until the entire creature stood right in front of Peter. The form darkened until the spots where unmistakable from the rest of its fur. Eventually, the form resembled a shadow with glowing yellow eyes. Then it began to move and reshape itself. What was once the outline of a jungle cat rose higher to stand on two feet. The color reclaimed the form and once the transformation had been complete it resembled a half-man half-leopard chimera. The eyes still glowed that unnatural yellow and now the face wore a smile.

Peter’s mind was screaming for him to run but his body was firmly against it. He had never felt true terror as he felt just now. He had called out to the darkness and it answered. Now he must make a deal with a demon. It spoke again, “What is it exactly that you require human?” The question caused Peter to snap back into the reality he was now facing. “My entire future hinges on my final grade in high school,” he managed to get out, “You see there is this paper I have to write that accounts for most of my final grade. If I don’t get a very high score then I won’t be able to attend college without remedial courses.” As he spoke, Peter began to feel foolish for summoning a demon for something he should have prepared for long before now. This was all his fault but hopefully the price he would need to pay for Ose’s help would not be too great.

The dark form almost laughed as he said, “Is that all?” It began to pace around the attic for a moment then stopped by Peter’s side. Then bending down a human-like hand that was still covered in fur landed firmly on the boy’s shoulder, “You understand that there is a price for my help, correct?” Peter simply nodded in acknowledgement. “Good, then you know how this works. I will help you and you give me something I desire,” it said as it stood back up and clapped it’s clawed fingers together.

Peter quivered, the whole room felt as though it wasn’t even on Earth anymore. He felt as though it was simply himself and the demon. He was certain that if he called out for his parents that they would not hear him. He finally managed the courage to ask the one question that would make all the difference, “What is the price?”

It bend down to eye level with Peter, “Well, usually I just ask for you to send me more business. It gets boring down there you know? I help you and you send me someone else to help. That sound fair?”

Peter thought for a moment. That couldn’t be it. That was too easy and what did he truly benefit in that? There just had to be some sort of catch. “No catch. Just more business,” it said reading the boy’s mind, “Do we have a deal?” The cat-like creature reached out with a hairy hand to receive a shake that would seal their dark deal. Peter’s palm shook violently as he reached forward and before he could fully extend his arm the creature reached out to grab the dangling palm. It gripped Peter’s hand tight and brought it up and down a couple times. “Good,” it said, “Now that we have that out of the way, let’s get you that grade.” The entity released Peter’s hand then pushed forward an index finger. The claw at the end pressed against the boy’s forehead. It pricked the skin slightly and a streak of blood shot down Peter’s face. Peter winced at the sensation and closed his eyes tight. When he opened them he was alone in the attic. The candles were still burning but Ose was gone. Once again he could see himself and the candle light in the mirror and the deal was done.

The following morning was Saturday. Normally Peter would have slept until midday but this morning his brain was electrified. He couldn’t stop coming up with ideas. He sat at his desk and words poured freely onto the page. Within a couple hours he had written the most elegant piece of literature he had ever even read himself. He drew the pages to his face and kissed them. “This is it,” he said with a grin. There was no way in the word he wasn’t acing this paper. He quickly stuffed it into his bag for the following Monday. The only problem was, he was still coming up with ideas. He had so much more information now and he had to get all those thoughts out there. He ended up writing even more dialogue on things that could be improved on and new means of finding solutions to everyday problems. He scoured the internet for email address of professors, scientists, and government officials to send them to. Before the weekend was over he had dispatched a good five hundred emails and he could not be prouder of himself. This deal he had might just might make a bigger impact on his life than just college at this rate.

Monday came and he was unable to contain his excitement. He raced to his English teacher’s room and handed her the stack of pages with his new knowledge inside. Her eyes were wide at the sight. Peter had never turned in something so elaborate. Peter couldn’t help but smirk as he made his way back out into the hall. He stopped at his locker and shoved his whole bag inside. He wouldn’t need his books today. He had already read them during his breaks from writing emails. All the information was there and he could recall it at any time. As he closed the locker he noticed Brian and Samantha a few feet away. He stepped over and with a cheesy grin he said, “It worked.”

“What worked?” asked Samantha. Brian also had a look of curiosity.

“The spell,” Peter replied. “I tried it again and I asked it for help on my grade. It worked, my mind is so full of stuff I couldn’t stop writing.” His friends gave him a look of concern and Samantha actually pressed the back of her hand to his forehead to make sure he wasn’t running a fever. Peter pushed her hand away. “I’m not sick and I’m not crazy so stop looking at me like that,” he snapped. “I am telling you the truth and if you don’t believe me, look at this,” he pulled out a notebook while finishing his sentence. The pages fell open revealing pages and pages of theory and equations. They both stared for a moment as Peter turned each page.

“Peter, if this is some kind of joke it isn’t really funny,” Brian remarked with a frown. They both walked away completely unamused. Peter wasn’t bothered though. He had finally completed his paper and he wasn’t going to be stuck at some fast food joint earning minimum wage. He continued on his day and each assignment was much easier now. He had not a single worry anymore. He was set for life. That is, until he re-entered his English class later that day. As soon as he walked in his teacher asked to speak to him. Peter was pulled out into the hallway where he was met by the principal. As the door shut his teacher explained that there was no way in this world or any other that the paper he submitted could have been written by Peter Kennedy. The principal looked over the pages. His teacher also handed over a sample of Peter’s earlier works to compare it too. Peter could tell that this would not end well. Even with all his knowledge everyone couldn’t possibly believe him.

Peter was accused of having someone else write his paper. They had no actual proof of who might have gave him assistance but they were sure this couldn’t be his work. He was given the rest of the week to come up with an original essay but if he couldn’t not only would he not graduate but the cheating would be left on his scholastic record. The only thing he could think of was the write a paper that was good enough for an “A” that wouldn’t appear too good to be his work. Once he arrived home he went straight for his desk to begin. The task seemed almost as impossible as writing a good paper before all the knowledge had been bestowed upon him. He strained to weaken down his points and draw back on facts that filled his mind. It took him the whole night to get something that might pass as his own and he only hoped it was enough. When he arrived in class the following day he laid the paper down on his teacher’s desk and faked an apology. She lifted the pages and began reading. This must have been more appropriate because she simply asked Peter to take his seat. The day ended without further incident and Peter hoped that this would be the end of his failings. He would be wrong.

When he arrived home there was multiple black S.U.V.s parked at the curb. Two men stood at each of them and one was at his door. He was speaking to Peter’s parents and asking for their son’s whereabouts. His father pointed out to the road where Peter stood astonished. The man in black motioned to the others and they approached the teen. Soon he was escorted into the back of one of the vehicles and even though his parent’s protested there was little they could do. Peter was being taken and none of them knew where. 