Steve Hellsborrow

Steve the Demon

I let out a small sigh as chanting ringed within my ears, a beacon calling to me, the cries of a wild caught animal desperately pleading for life screeching among the chants. Suddenly, the animals cries stop, and a few seconds later, so do the chants. I wait a few minutes, seeing if they would start it again, the two people trying to summon me. But they didn't. Instead, one turned to the other.

"Gary, it isn't working. I told you demons weren't real. Lets go home."

The one they were talking to, Gary, shook his head. "Paul, I know they exist. I just know it. I need this. You know how desperate I am right now."

I could feel Pauls' agitation, even though I was at that moment nestled in another plane of existence from these two humans. "Jesus fuck, Gary, I told you I'd lend you some money!"

"I don't need money, Paul! I want to be recognized."

Ah, I thought to myself, sipping my coffee. I wrote down the human Gary's desires. Recognition. Why am I not surprised?

"Gary..." I heard Paul sigh. He tossed down the knife that he was holding, bloodied from when it had been used to slaughter the rabbit at their feet. "Have you ever considered that your music just isn't... just isn't good enough?"

"No, Paul, that isn't it. I-"

I sighed for the umpteenth time since they had started the ritual to summon me. I checked my watch. I was past timing. Thank Lucifer. I hadn't wanted to listen to those morons any longer. Gripping my coffee and grabbing my flashlight from my desk, I moved myself to stand right between the two morons who had still thought rituals were the best way to contact demons. I looked at the flashlight in my hand and shrugged before switching it on, shining it up from underneath my chin. I motioned to the streetlamp at the corner with my coffee hand, where my apprentice shoots a rock at, making it shatter into tiny glass shards. The humans freaked out, turning around to see what exactly had happened, and I take a step into their plane of existence.

"Gary, Paul," I said to each of them respectively. Paul proceeds to emit a high pitched, sound barrier breaking scream as Gary turned excitedly towards me. I had to do everything in my power to not recoil in disgust now that I could see him properly. Greasy, dry skinned, pimply Gary. He had dandruff in his ebony eyebrows and flakes of dead skin littered his cheeks. His hair seemed to drip oil, and it was apparent that very oil got on his face with how many white heads there were. And dear lord, those teeth! Crooked as the deal I was about to give him, and yellow as the street lamp that Collin had just shattered. It was no wonder record labels hadn't picked him up yet. Based off looks alone, he would have been their worst investment ever.

"Paul!" Ugly Gary exclaimed excitedly. "Look! They're real! But, uh... sir? What are you doing with that flashlight?"

I looked down and got nearly blinded by the flashlight that was still pointed up towards my face. I had completely forgotten about the full magnitude of the scare I had wanted to give the two of them. I looked towards Paul, who was staring at me, mouth gaping, and shined my light at his face, lighting up his features better. He was the exact opposite as Gary, look wise. And probably the opposite popularity wise as well.

"It appears your friend has become a ghost," I said, making an attempt at a joke. "Would your wish be for me to revive him?"

Gary waved a hand dismissively. "He'll over come it soon. Anyways! Are you a demon?"

I frowned. I had thought about snapping a sarcastic response back at this mortal, so dumb and seemingly innocent. Of course I was a demon. Poltergeist and road spirits couldn't be bothered with answering this guys calls for an impractical joke. They had busier schedules than I did.