The echoes of scratching could be heard throughout the condo. The scritch, scratch of chalk on stone getting louder until it sliced through the errie silence of the neighborhood. Waking the abandoned pets, who howled, screeched and barked with pain, but still their owners didn't come.
And amiss the place where the sound was coming from, was a man clad in black, hunched over the floor with a special, thick, white chalk piece in his hand.
Outside, in the neighborhood, the scratching stopped, but the sound from the screeching animals didn't, the loud noise finally reaching the man clad in black.
Located in the hidden cellar of the condo on the corner, the man stood and began to pace the room, his bony frame cracking as he stretched, the strain of kneeling hunched over the floor for two hours. As the man paced, he smiled, admiring the hard work from those two bone cracking, leg cramping hours and began to chant.
The intersecting lines and ancient curving words of old latin all drawn in a white chalk began to glow a dark blood-red colour. The lines of the ancient pentagram seemingly swirling and dancing together into what it seemed was an endless flow of nonsense to anyone but the man clad in black. Until, finally they came to an abrupt stop.
The blood red glow of the pentagram lines flashed and something appeared in the small space of he cellar. The undefined shape twisting and swirling in he dim light, seeming to draw the man towards it.
He took a step forward, then another and the another, until he was at the edge of the glowing pentagram. His foot hovered over the bordering line of the elaborate, glowing shape, and he almost stepped into the trap, but a split second thought stopped him.
The demon had many mystical powers, could one of them be hypnotism? If so then he could not trust it until it had fulfilled the contract.
