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Daily wordcount: 1,739
Total wordcount: 9,141
On/off target: -5,862
I did a little more then the daily requirement, but only by the slightest bit. At least I didn't fall further behind? I dunno.
"Sort of, but not really. In your plane it's magic, in ours, the scientists can explain it, predict it, and it has rules. Like gravity. Most people would be hard-pressed to really explain gravity, but most don't think it's magic," Steve said.
"And some people don't believe in it at all."
"Magic?" Steve asked, confused.
"Gravity. There's a pretty small, but crazy and vocal anti-science movement going on at the moment."
"That's new. But we have those people too, the ones who don't believe we can be abducted. There's plenty of stories and they explain the mechanisms, though they don't know how to prevent it or why some people are more susceptible. They think it's genetic, now, though there was a time when they thought it had to do with naming, so everyone my age has these really outlandish, ridiculous names to try to keep them from being taken."
"So it's not really about your name? You didn't not tell me because it would give me power over you?" I asked.
"No, I didn't say it because my parents were very much on the train of 'if his name is long and confusing enough no one will ever be able to take him' and they went way overboard. Most parents were content to give their child a long, complex, or oddly pronounced middle name, but not mine. I don't mind you knowing, if you promise not to laugh at me," he said, looking quite upset about it.
"I promise."
"My actual, full name is Stephaniculous Alfredicationally Jamestonian Beepboptoon Jasmine Martin." He sighed heavily.
"Jasmine?" I said before I could stop myself. Maybe they didn't do gender names and I was about to make a complete fool of myself. I groped for something to add to explain myself. "I mean, that one seems so... normal? Not like, Jasminiphonic or anything?"
"Not for a boy. And let me tell you, that was definitely the one the boys latched on to in school." He sighed and leaned back on the couch. "Can we watch a movie now? I mean, this is a real treat, not having to go to work. Quite the vacation! I'll be sorry when it ends."
"Oh, that never occurred to me," I lied, badly. "How long are you here for?"
"Until you outsmart me and send me back, I reckon," he said with an impish grin.
My stomach rolled, and in that moment I didn't believe a word he had said to me. There was something that flickered in his eyes, just for a minute, that gave lie to his entire story.
"Are you going to keep cooking?" I said, hoping my face just looked vaguely puzzled, instead of the cold, oily fear that was running up and down my spine. For once, I was so conflicted I don't think my real emotions showed on my face, just my confusion, because his face relaxed back into a grin as he cued up the Sharknado series.
"It would be my pleasure! Let me know what you'd like made, and I'm afraid you will have to do the grocery shopping," he said gesturing to his horns. "Though maybe, a few times, around Halloween I could venture out..."
I smiled, and shrugged, and turned my attention tot he television. Steve did likewise, and it felt, at least to me, like more of a comfortable, companionable silence. I didn't feel like he was watching me closely or overly suspicious. Hopefully.
And since Steve didn't like anyone talking during movies, it gave me a lot of time to try to sort through my thoughts. I wished I could write them down, but I didn't dare do that in front of him, and I didn't trust him not to search my whole apartment if I wasn't home at dark. And with it getting dark so early, I'd be hard-pressed to make it home from work in time. So I tried to organize my observations in my head.
One, the whole thing about their society was, I felt, partly true. Even if he was a demon in Hell, there had to be some sort of social structure and community, or they'd just sit like puppets on shelves until they were summoned. Unless they weren't corporeal in Hell? Man, drifting around bodiless with nothing to do but think does sound pretty hellish. But if it was an alternate plane of existence, an alternate universe, why did he look so close to human? Is it the Star Trek, aliens seeded the entire universe with their genetic code that makes everyone vaguely humanoid? Or is it more the identical twins, split from the same universe kind of situation? But even then, why does he speak perfect English? Any split long ago or origin pre-modern English would have most likely given rise to independent languages. And, sure, the abduction story and certainly they could learn our language, but would it be that accentless? Or is it more likely to be the afterlife, though are demons dead humans or fallen angels? I needed to bone up on both my religious and occult knowledge if I was going to even try to figure it out.
I picked up the dirty dishes and took them into the kitchen, rinsing off the plates and putting them in the dishwasher, then pouring myself another glass of wine. I sipped it while I put away the leftovers, and washed the pan. I'm not going to lie, other than the whole 'being a lying demon' part, having Steve around was not shaping up to be too bad for me. Dinner had been excellent and the idea of having it ready every night was pretty appealing. At least, in the winter. Not being able to eat until well after sunset in the summer would be less than ideal.
Once the kitchen was tidy and I'd looked through the refrigerator and pantry to try to plan out tomorrow's dinner, I went back into the living room, curled up on the end of the couch with my glass of wine, and watched Sharknado movies until I fell asleep.
I woke up on Sunday morning and Steve was gone again. The sun was shining, though the weather report promised more lousy weather later in the day, so I dragged myself up and tried to convince myself to go for a nice walk on the trial. I needed the stress relief, plus two nights of sleeping on the couch had left me feeling quite stiff. The research could wait, I was doubtful I would be able to pull myself out of this pickle any time soon, anyway.
A very long walk, a nice cup of coffee, and a hot shower later I was back on my sofa. I had also been conveniently forgetting about the work I was supposed to be doing, and, as I had very little to go on and no idea what I was going to do, I set my tablet up and launched incognito mode on the browser to watch some videos on demons and the occult. Did I think Steve would hack into my tablet and find out what I'd been watching? Doubtful, and if he did, he'd probably laugh at most of what I found, but it made me feel better.
I spent the afternoon sorting, scanning, and then burning pages of useless documentation, finding nothing in the three boxed I'd worked my way through by late afternoon. The occult research, while equal parts humorous and horrifying, also yielded nothing fruitful. I had a few hours left before, presumably, Steve showed back up and I was exactly where I'd been before. Then I remembered the sheets of paper the woman from the occult shop had given me. I hadn't hidden them, and Steve could have easily found them if he'd looked through my purse. So much for covering my tracks, I thought.
I got up and retrieved the pages and the book from my bag, and read through them. It was, as she'd said, a simple procedure. Make a circle, get demon into said circle, say a word to bind him to the circle, then say words to send him back. But the circle was a pretty obvious thing. There were lines and symbols and candles and it wasn't something he wouldn't notice. Unless... Unless I could be incredible clever.
The instructions were clear, the symbols could be hidden in other things, of any material. If you had nothing but twigs and leaves you could fashion a containment circle, though it would be difficult. And, it warned, demons are very good at spotting the symbols, even if they are incorporated into other designs. The circle itself must be continuous and unbroken, and it will work even covered, so under a rug would be perfect - but demons, of course, know this, and rarely step foot on a throw rug. Plus they usually spot the symbols, which can not be covered, and the candles, which must be burning, and get the idea. I looked around my house, at the placement of the furniture, the fireplace, and an idea began to form. It would be a long time in the making, and I'd have to coexist with Steve for quite some time, but it might just work. As long as I didn't rush it, and as long as I kept my cool. Step one was to find a very secure place to hide the instructions, and I decided that work would be just that place. Step two was to minorly rearrange the furniture so that all the pieces I was going to need would be in the proper places. I thought about it for a moment and realized the best time for that would be right after Thanksgiving. If I shuffled things around to put up a Christmas tree, there would be nothing suspicious about that at all. And if my chair shifted just that way, then the desk moved so, the tree could go in that corner and with the fireplace and kitchen... it would be perfect. In just over three weeks, I could hopefully pull this off. If Steve didn't kill me (or anyone else) in that time. I just needed to keep him happy. I logged into my Amazon account and added all of the horror and action movie streaming add-ons I could find. There were enough movies to keep him occupied for months.
Total wordcount: 9,141
On/off target: -5,862
I did a little more then the daily requirement, but only by the slightest bit. At least I didn't fall further behind? I dunno.
"Sort of, but not really. In your plane it's magic, in ours, the scientists can explain it, predict it, and it has rules. Like gravity. Most people would be hard-pressed to really explain gravity, but most don't think it's magic," Steve said.
"And some people don't believe in it at all."
"Magic?" Steve asked, confused.
"Gravity. There's a pretty small, but crazy and vocal anti-science movement going on at the moment."
"That's new. But we have those people too, the ones who don't believe we can be abducted. There's plenty of stories and they explain the mechanisms, though they don't know how to prevent it or why some people are more susceptible. They think it's genetic, now, though there was a time when they thought it had to do with naming, so everyone my age has these really outlandish, ridiculous names to try to keep them from being taken."
"So it's not really about your name? You didn't not tell me because it would give me power over you?" I asked.
"No, I didn't say it because my parents were very much on the train of 'if his name is long and confusing enough no one will ever be able to take him' and they went way overboard. Most parents were content to give their child a long, complex, or oddly pronounced middle name, but not mine. I don't mind you knowing, if you promise not to laugh at me," he said, looking quite upset about it.
"I promise."
"My actual, full name is Stephaniculous Alfredicationally Jamestonian Beepboptoon Jasmine Martin." He sighed heavily.
"Jasmine?" I said before I could stop myself. Maybe they didn't do gender names and I was about to make a complete fool of myself. I groped for something to add to explain myself. "I mean, that one seems so... normal? Not like, Jasminiphonic or anything?"
"Not for a boy. And let me tell you, that was definitely the one the boys latched on to in school." He sighed and leaned back on the couch. "Can we watch a movie now? I mean, this is a real treat, not having to go to work. Quite the vacation! I'll be sorry when it ends."
"Oh, that never occurred to me," I lied, badly. "How long are you here for?"
"Until you outsmart me and send me back, I reckon," he said with an impish grin.
My stomach rolled, and in that moment I didn't believe a word he had said to me. There was something that flickered in his eyes, just for a minute, that gave lie to his entire story.
"Are you going to keep cooking?" I said, hoping my face just looked vaguely puzzled, instead of the cold, oily fear that was running up and down my spine. For once, I was so conflicted I don't think my real emotions showed on my face, just my confusion, because his face relaxed back into a grin as he cued up the Sharknado series.
"It would be my pleasure! Let me know what you'd like made, and I'm afraid you will have to do the grocery shopping," he said gesturing to his horns. "Though maybe, a few times, around Halloween I could venture out..."
I smiled, and shrugged, and turned my attention tot he television. Steve did likewise, and it felt, at least to me, like more of a comfortable, companionable silence. I didn't feel like he was watching me closely or overly suspicious. Hopefully.
And since Steve didn't like anyone talking during movies, it gave me a lot of time to try to sort through my thoughts. I wished I could write them down, but I didn't dare do that in front of him, and I didn't trust him not to search my whole apartment if I wasn't home at dark. And with it getting dark so early, I'd be hard-pressed to make it home from work in time. So I tried to organize my observations in my head.
One, the whole thing about their society was, I felt, partly true. Even if he was a demon in Hell, there had to be some sort of social structure and community, or they'd just sit like puppets on shelves until they were summoned. Unless they weren't corporeal in Hell? Man, drifting around bodiless with nothing to do but think does sound pretty hellish. But if it was an alternate plane of existence, an alternate universe, why did he look so close to human? Is it the Star Trek, aliens seeded the entire universe with their genetic code that makes everyone vaguely humanoid? Or is it more the identical twins, split from the same universe kind of situation? But even then, why does he speak perfect English? Any split long ago or origin pre-modern English would have most likely given rise to independent languages. And, sure, the abduction story and certainly they could learn our language, but would it be that accentless? Or is it more likely to be the afterlife, though are demons dead humans or fallen angels? I needed to bone up on both my religious and occult knowledge if I was going to even try to figure it out.
I picked up the dirty dishes and took them into the kitchen, rinsing off the plates and putting them in the dishwasher, then pouring myself another glass of wine. I sipped it while I put away the leftovers, and washed the pan. I'm not going to lie, other than the whole 'being a lying demon' part, having Steve around was not shaping up to be too bad for me. Dinner had been excellent and the idea of having it ready every night was pretty appealing. At least, in the winter. Not being able to eat until well after sunset in the summer would be less than ideal.
Once the kitchen was tidy and I'd looked through the refrigerator and pantry to try to plan out tomorrow's dinner, I went back into the living room, curled up on the end of the couch with my glass of wine, and watched Sharknado movies until I fell asleep.
I woke up on Sunday morning and Steve was gone again. The sun was shining, though the weather report promised more lousy weather later in the day, so I dragged myself up and tried to convince myself to go for a nice walk on the trial. I needed the stress relief, plus two nights of sleeping on the couch had left me feeling quite stiff. The research could wait, I was doubtful I would be able to pull myself out of this pickle any time soon, anyway.
A very long walk, a nice cup of coffee, and a hot shower later I was back on my sofa. I had also been conveniently forgetting about the work I was supposed to be doing, and, as I had very little to go on and no idea what I was going to do, I set my tablet up and launched incognito mode on the browser to watch some videos on demons and the occult. Did I think Steve would hack into my tablet and find out what I'd been watching? Doubtful, and if he did, he'd probably laugh at most of what I found, but it made me feel better.
I spent the afternoon sorting, scanning, and then burning pages of useless documentation, finding nothing in the three boxed I'd worked my way through by late afternoon. The occult research, while equal parts humorous and horrifying, also yielded nothing fruitful. I had a few hours left before, presumably, Steve showed back up and I was exactly where I'd been before. Then I remembered the sheets of paper the woman from the occult shop had given me. I hadn't hidden them, and Steve could have easily found them if he'd looked through my purse. So much for covering my tracks, I thought.
I got up and retrieved the pages and the book from my bag, and read through them. It was, as she'd said, a simple procedure. Make a circle, get demon into said circle, say a word to bind him to the circle, then say words to send him back. But the circle was a pretty obvious thing. There were lines and symbols and candles and it wasn't something he wouldn't notice. Unless... Unless I could be incredible clever.
The instructions were clear, the symbols could be hidden in other things, of any material. If you had nothing but twigs and leaves you could fashion a containment circle, though it would be difficult. And, it warned, demons are very good at spotting the symbols, even if they are incorporated into other designs. The circle itself must be continuous and unbroken, and it will work even covered, so under a rug would be perfect - but demons, of course, know this, and rarely step foot on a throw rug. Plus they usually spot the symbols, which can not be covered, and the candles, which must be burning, and get the idea. I looked around my house, at the placement of the furniture, the fireplace, and an idea began to form. It would be a long time in the making, and I'd have to coexist with Steve for quite some time, but it might just work. As long as I didn't rush it, and as long as I kept my cool. Step one was to find a very secure place to hide the instructions, and I decided that work would be just that place. Step two was to minorly rearrange the furniture so that all the pieces I was going to need would be in the proper places. I thought about it for a moment and realized the best time for that would be right after Thanksgiving. If I shuffled things around to put up a Christmas tree, there would be nothing suspicious about that at all. And if my chair shifted just that way, then the desk moved so, the tree could go in that corner and with the fireplace and kitchen... it would be perfect. In just over three weeks, I could hopefully pull this off. If Steve didn't kill me (or anyone else) in that time. I just needed to keep him happy. I logged into my Amazon account and added all of the horror and action movie streaming add-ons I could find. There were enough movies to keep him occupied for months.
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