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learn more about the full length novel featuring Tronaugh, The Demon of Petty Disturbances

rough draft of The Demon of Petty Disturbances

page 5

by K. Kylyra Ameringer


Dick snuck into the cemetery by the old route he and Melissa had always used. His knapsack bulged with the items he'd collected for tonight and hampered his stealth. He knew he didn't actually need to sneak around; there hadn't been a caretaker on the grounds for several years now. He just felt that the occasion warranted stealth and was annoyed by his own clumsiness.

He knew exactly where he was headed in the darkness; to the big headstone in the back by the small mausoleum. It was a perfect space, sheltered from the road by a hedge so no one would see what he was up to. He and Melissa had used the area often ... Melissa.

Her smile flashed in his mind and he felt his resolve waiver. But once Richard Digger made up his mind, there was no turning back. No more kid stuff, he told himself. Tonight was the real thing.

He found the clearing he was looking for. He and Mel had stashed a small cache of stones somewhere around here. They'd found their secret meetings hampered by the need to find suitable rocks for a fire ring and magic circle, so they'd slowly built up a pile to reuse each time. He searched where he thought they should be but found nothing. There was evidence that the part-time caretaker had been in since last he'd visited this place: the lawn was neatly clipped and by the moonlight he could see a rough patch of turf placed over the small fire area he and Mel had made.

Dick cursed under his breath to himself, and set his pack of supplies gently on the ground by the headstone. He'd have to hurry to find enough stones to use for the circle. He didn't want to miss midnight.

He fanned out from the area in larger and larger circles picking up stones and rocks here and there, half digging most of them out of the ground and hauling them back to his chosen site.

A cloud flitted across the surface of the moon briefly while he moved the last rock into place. There, he thought panting, good enough. He moved into the circle and dragged his pack with him. His hands found the edge of the freshly laid turf and he pulled it up, revealing the small cleared area he and Melissa always used for their fires. He set his blaze alight and waited for it to take hold. Dick withdrew his book of magic from the pack and opened it to the page he'd marked. The top of the page read 'To Call and Enslave A Demon':

Dick began pulling the necessary items from his pack. There was a small bag of sulphur to throw on the fire at the appropriate moment. He hadn't been able to find much and hoped there would be enough. He held a serrated knife edge up to the moonlight. He hated using a bread knife, but every other blade in his place was so dull they were barely usable to spread butter and he hadn't had the time nor the knowledge to make one as he should have. It'll do the job, he reassured himself. The red ribbon had been easy; he'd found a length of red yarn at the bottom of one of his kitchen drawers. The rotted meat was a bit of a problem. He didn't relish the idea of rooting through trash cans or picking up road kill, so Dick has found a small chicken for half-price at the supermarket a few days ago and left it out on his counter to ripen. It wasn't exactly rotting, but he figured the meat wasn't exactly good either, anymore. If I was a demon I'd be glad to get it, he thought.

He reached into the side pocket of his pack and pulled a few more items he'd grabbed on the spur of the moment. He straightened out the pack and lay the items down next to him: a crucifix, a bulb of garlic, a small statue of Buddha and a water pistol filled with holy water. These items weren't necessary to call a demon, in fact the book didn't even mention them, but he felt safer for having them there.

Dick checked his watch. It was time. He threw a handful of sulphur on the fire and began intoning the words aloud. He stumbled over a few lines, unsure if he was pronouncing the words correctly. He thought they might be Latin, but he couldn't be sure. It might just be a bunch of made-up mumbo-jumbo, too.

He threw more sulphur on the fire. The last few lines on the page told him to command that the demon come to him. It was then the conjurer's job to somehow get a lock of hair from the demon. The book was deliberately unspecific on how to carry out that task and Dick was sure it would end up being the trickiest bit. But, he reasoned, if he actually succeeded in calling a demon he could probably manage the hair part somehow.

rough draft of The Demon of Petty Disturbances by K. Kylyra Ameringer


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learn more about the full length novel featuring Tronaugh, The Demon of Petty Disturbances