Author Games: Ragnarok

Task 1 Entries: The Day Job (Scored)

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Apollo Zera

My fingers twist and twirl around the chords of the guitar, dancing across them and producing a beautiful music as they do. I can't remember who invented the first prototype of this particular instrument; the improvements I brought to it must have made quite a difference, I suppose. But that's what I'm here for, isn't it? To improve every musical sensation possible - even this decade, despite its grotesque fixation with autotuning the human voice and its wonders.  

As I play, I begin to let out a soft, sweet melody of notes. The lyrics are some romantic bullshit with a bunch of metaphor and poetic devices that I spewed out in about a month. As it turns out, being the god of poetry and music can make a person into a great singer-songwriter. Being one of the many gods dedicated to beauty makes you a successful one. Back in the day, looks had nothing to do with musical success. Now, talent has taken its place, something which completely shatters my heart. My invention is being poisoned by my appeal.   

I can hear the crowd screaming in the distance, but for the moment I don't pay them any attention. The opening act is still performing, and I have to admit that I like that particular invention; it allows for more people to share their music. Seeing as I always wanted music to be a communal affair - hence why so many African countries are dear to me - it fills me with joy to see that not everything about my main domain has been corrupted by time.  

A knock comes at my door. Normally I make it clear that I don't like to be interrupted as I prepare and do my backstage ritual, but I must have forgotten and that means it's up to me to live with the consequences of that. My adoring fans will love me no matter what, and with any luck this won't take too long.  

But when I open the door to see Camazotz standing before me, I realize things are about to get much more complicated than they currently are.  

I rush to try and close the door back before he can come in, but he's already in my dressing room, a dark sort of smile coating his face. He looks as dark as ever, something which just naturally makes me feel uncomfortable. I can almost feel my heat and light leaving me to be absorbed by his night, like it always does when I'm around Camazotz. I can feel everything around me go dark, and I know it's only a matter of time until I simply collapse. This can't be pleasant for the bat god either; my light burns him as he absorbs it. Which means there's something he wants.  

"What is it?"  

Camazotz blinks, looking puzzled. "What is what?"   "You want something from me. What is it?"   "Ah." He smiles. "Just a little social event that's currently lacking guests."  

"That's it?"  

He nods. Soon enough there's a contract right in front of me, dripping from Camazotz's hand. I can feel myself getting even weaker, and so there isn't a decision for me to make. My only choice is clear before me.  

"Alright. I'll do it."  

I sign my soul over to the devil.

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The Erlking

Carter book shop and antique store is a small affair. Not many people go in, and when people do go in, they are quick to leave.  

 On Thursdays a man named Erik King works there. A man named Erik King also works there every other day of the week, but today happens to be a Thursday. 

The store is dark and quiet; sometimes music plays from hidden speakers, but not often. The shelves are filled with dusty old books that no one has looked through in a long time.  The slim selections of dusty antiques are too old to be anything other than “tacky”. On the whole, there are only two remarkable things about the store.