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Daily wordcount: 1,014
Total wordcount: 7,402
On/off target: -5,934
No idea where this is going, but if I don't do some serious catch up this weekend I'll be tempted to give it up. The stress of being too far behind is real!
“So you can read the second half, then, the part … I mean, can I fix what I did? There’s a way to fix it, right? Or did I just let a demon loose on civilization?”
“Well, that’s the tricky part. He can come back every day at sundown and stay until sunrise, and since he wasn’t summoned into a circle, he can appear anywhere and go anywhere. You have to hope he comes back to your apartment and you can trick him into getting sent back. It’s not going to be easy, but it can be done.” She riffled through a stack of papers to the side of the register, and handed me two sheets. “These are the instructions. They are simple, but it’s not going to be easy.”
I picked up the papers, and the book, and left the shop, dread pooling in the pit of my stomach. I'm not a great liar, or I'd have gone a lot farther at work. How was I supposed to trick a demon? This did not seem like a plan that was going to work. And having no confidence in my ability, I did what I always did when I was dreading something. I procrastinated.
The level of procrastination was such that I actually went to the mall. I am not a fan of malls, and there's very little in a mall that I would want to buy. They're falling out of favor, the old-fashioned malls, and being replaced with strip malls and stores that boast loft apartments above them. But the old mall has one thing that those do not. Walk-ability in terrible weather. It was cold and drizzling and I couldn't see myself spending much time walking my usual trail, which was scenic and relaxing and would around a lake and always lifted my mood. Instead, I went to a crowded, noisy mall, and each lap somehow not only failed to reduce my anxiety, it seemed to raise it, and I ended up in an infinite do-loop of trying to calm down by doing something that was aggravating me. Not always the brightest life decisions, me.
That's probably why I didn't realize how late it was getting. That, and the lack of windows in the main mall track made it impossible for me to tell how rapidly dusk was approaching. And that's the reason why it was definitely after sunset when I got back to my house. And opened the door to the delightful aroma of home cooking.
"Becca, where have you been? The noodles are going to get over-cooked! Come, come, sit and eat. I do hope you like Pad Thai, you had all the ingredients for it and the recipe card looked a little worse for wear, like you used it a lot, so I figured it was a good choice to make."
Steve was standing in the kitchen, an frilly apron on, stirring a pot of amazing smelling Pad Thai. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I had not eaten since my late breakfast. Was it possible that Steve was going to poison me? Was it safe to eat? Wasn't it more likely if he wanted to kill me that he'd just smite me or curse me or do whatever demons do? Poison seemed a much more difficult thing to do. And I was hungry. And it smelled so good...
"I do actually love Pad Thai," I said. "I didn't realize you'd be back, or I wouldn't have been gone so long. And you certainly didn't have to..."
I waved my hand around the kitchen, indicating the cooking. Not that there was a lot of evidence of it. I wondered if he'd used supernatural means to tidy as he cooked, or if he was just a tidy cook. Me, I'm one of those people who can get flour on the ceiling while cooking, and when I'm done it looks like a small, localized natural disaster rolled through. Probably why I make large batches of things once a week, then eat leftovers most of the time.
"Oh, I love to cook," he said jovially. "I don't get to do a lot of it day to day, so this is nice."
"What do you do day-to-day?" I asked, accepting both the plate of Pad Thai and a glass of wine from him and heading over to the living room to sit on the couch and eat. Say what you want about it being uncivilized, I like to watch television while I eat.
"When not summoned to spend my days in the mortal realm, if you will, I work as a min-level manager at a publishing firm."
I almost choked on a mouthful of wine. Steve grinned at me as he brought his plate of food - no wine for him - to the other end of the couch.
"I'm sorry, I just..."
"You didn't think we'd lead such a civilized existence?"
"Well, I mean it is... Hell, right? Isn't it all torture and ... horribleness all the time?" I felt the conversation slipping away from me and I struggled to wrap my brain around it and not say anything too offensive.
"It's not, actually," he said, taking a bite of food and sitting back on the couch. He picked up the remote and flipped the television on.
"It's not terrible?" I took another sip of wine and realized my glass was nearly empty, and I'd eaten very little. Maybe the spinning in my head wasn't all from this conversation. I picked up my fork and had a few more mouthfuls of Pad Thai. It really was delicious.
"Nor do we call it Hell. Or ourselves demons. It's really more of an... alternate reality? Another dimension? I'm not sure how you'd describe it. Probably something to do with particle physics and quantum mechanics. But there's something that ties the two universes or planes of existence or whatever it is together, and we can get pulled through."
"But you have powers and... stuff, right? This whole thing is magical? The summoning, all that stuff?"
Total wordcount: 7,402
On/off target: -5,934
No idea where this is going, but if I don't do some serious catch up this weekend I'll be tempted to give it up. The stress of being too far behind is real!
“So you can read the second half, then, the part … I mean, can I fix what I did? There’s a way to fix it, right? Or did I just let a demon loose on civilization?”
“Well, that’s the tricky part. He can come back every day at sundown and stay until sunrise, and since he wasn’t summoned into a circle, he can appear anywhere and go anywhere. You have to hope he comes back to your apartment and you can trick him into getting sent back. It’s not going to be easy, but it can be done.” She riffled through a stack of papers to the side of the register, and handed me two sheets. “These are the instructions. They are simple, but it’s not going to be easy.”
I picked up the papers, and the book, and left the shop, dread pooling in the pit of my stomach. I'm not a great liar, or I'd have gone a lot farther at work. How was I supposed to trick a demon? This did not seem like a plan that was going to work. And having no confidence in my ability, I did what I always did when I was dreading something. I procrastinated.
The level of procrastination was such that I actually went to the mall. I am not a fan of malls, and there's very little in a mall that I would want to buy. They're falling out of favor, the old-fashioned malls, and being replaced with strip malls and stores that boast loft apartments above them. But the old mall has one thing that those do not. Walk-ability in terrible weather. It was cold and drizzling and I couldn't see myself spending much time walking my usual trail, which was scenic and relaxing and would around a lake and always lifted my mood. Instead, I went to a crowded, noisy mall, and each lap somehow not only failed to reduce my anxiety, it seemed to raise it, and I ended up in an infinite do-loop of trying to calm down by doing something that was aggravating me. Not always the brightest life decisions, me.
That's probably why I didn't realize how late it was getting. That, and the lack of windows in the main mall track made it impossible for me to tell how rapidly dusk was approaching. And that's the reason why it was definitely after sunset when I got back to my house. And opened the door to the delightful aroma of home cooking.
"Becca, where have you been? The noodles are going to get over-cooked! Come, come, sit and eat. I do hope you like Pad Thai, you had all the ingredients for it and the recipe card looked a little worse for wear, like you used it a lot, so I figured it was a good choice to make."
Steve was standing in the kitchen, an frilly apron on, stirring a pot of amazing smelling Pad Thai. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I had not eaten since my late breakfast. Was it possible that Steve was going to poison me? Was it safe to eat? Wasn't it more likely if he wanted to kill me that he'd just smite me or curse me or do whatever demons do? Poison seemed a much more difficult thing to do. And I was hungry. And it smelled so good...
"I do actually love Pad Thai," I said. "I didn't realize you'd be back, or I wouldn't have been gone so long. And you certainly didn't have to..."
I waved my hand around the kitchen, indicating the cooking. Not that there was a lot of evidence of it. I wondered if he'd used supernatural means to tidy as he cooked, or if he was just a tidy cook. Me, I'm one of those people who can get flour on the ceiling while cooking, and when I'm done it looks like a small, localized natural disaster rolled through. Probably why I make large batches of things once a week, then eat leftovers most of the time.
"Oh, I love to cook," he said jovially. "I don't get to do a lot of it day to day, so this is nice."
"What do you do day-to-day?" I asked, accepting both the plate of Pad Thai and a glass of wine from him and heading over to the living room to sit on the couch and eat. Say what you want about it being uncivilized, I like to watch television while I eat.
"When not summoned to spend my days in the mortal realm, if you will, I work as a min-level manager at a publishing firm."
I almost choked on a mouthful of wine. Steve grinned at me as he brought his plate of food - no wine for him - to the other end of the couch.
"I'm sorry, I just..."
"You didn't think we'd lead such a civilized existence?"
"Well, I mean it is... Hell, right? Isn't it all torture and ... horribleness all the time?" I felt the conversation slipping away from me and I struggled to wrap my brain around it and not say anything too offensive.
"It's not, actually," he said, taking a bite of food and sitting back on the couch. He picked up the remote and flipped the television on.
"It's not terrible?" I took another sip of wine and realized my glass was nearly empty, and I'd eaten very little. Maybe the spinning in my head wasn't all from this conversation. I picked up my fork and had a few more mouthfuls of Pad Thai. It really was delicious.
"Nor do we call it Hell. Or ourselves demons. It's really more of an... alternate reality? Another dimension? I'm not sure how you'd describe it. Probably something to do with particle physics and quantum mechanics. But there's something that ties the two universes or planes of existence or whatever it is together, and we can get pulled through."
"But you have powers and... stuff, right? This whole thing is magical? The summoning, all that stuff?"
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