Alastor

One afternoon, with nothing better to do, you decided, "Why not mess with things that could end me in the worst possible way?" With that reckless thought, you wandered into your older sibling's room, recalling the countless times they had warned you to stay out. Typical sibling spiel, full of dire warnings and empty threats. But with them gone, and out of town, there was no one to stop you.

Their room was fairly ordinary, a chaotic mix of random junk and peculiar items scattered about, none of which really caught your interest. That is, until your eyes landed on a large, worn book with pages sticking out. Curiosity piqued, you approached it, feeling a thrill of excitement before deadpanning at the title: "Spell Book." Despite its mysterious appearance, the title seemed almost too cliché.

Still, the old adage "never judge a book by its cover" rang true. You flipped through the pages and quickly realized there was more to this book than met the eye. It was filled with voodoo spells, the kind that were both fascinating and intimidating. Despite the daunting content, your boredom and fascination with the unknown pushed you to proceed. The materials it called for were far from your reach, but you were determined to improvise. And besides, you had nothing better to do.

The spell you chose required some typical materials: a pentagram, candles, and an unusual addition—a deer carcass. Undeterred, you grabbed a pair of gloves from the kitchen and conveniently found an old wheelbarrow, setting off down the road with determination. After some time, you stumbled upon a deceased deer, its lifeless eyes reflecting the setting sun. Perfect. With a huff, you heaved the carcass into the wheelbarrow, grimacing as you realized you placed it right on top of the book. Ew. Your older sibling would definitely murder you for getting the book dirty, but who was going to know? Only you.

With that out of the way, you headed back, deciding not to bring the dead deer carcass into the house. Cleaning up spoiled blood from the floors wasn’t worth it, so the barn it was! As you scurried towards the barn, adrenaline and excitement coursed through your veins.

Night fell much quicker than you would have liked, and the cold air bit at your skin, giving you slight chills. You gathered your materials: purple chalk, check; fireflies in jars (since your older sibling hid the matches from you after the incident where you almost burned down the house), check; and the deer carcass, with bugs already flying around it, check. Perfect.

You meticulously drew a pentagram on the floor with the purple chalk, placing the jars filled with lightning bugs at the five points of the star. Their soft glow cast a warm light around the ritual space. The spell book lay open on top of your lap, its pages yellowed with age and filled with cryptic symbols and instructions.

You followed them to the letter, your hands steady despite the creeping sense of unease. The deer carcass was placed at the center of the pentagram, its presence heavy and unsettling. You took a deep breath and began to chant the incantation, your voice trembling at first, but growing stronger with each word. You got this. What could go wrong? And if it was just a fluke, you could sleep easy, pretending you hadn’t just raided your older sibling's room like the nosy person you were.

As you finished the final phrase, the air in the barn grew still, almost suffocatingly so. The fireflies' glow intensified, their light pulsating rhythmically as if syncing with an invisible heartbeat. Suddenly, a cold wind swept through the barn. Oh shit. Something was happening.

From the shadows, a figure began to materialize. Tall and imposing, it seemed to draw in the darkness around it. There was a rumble of static that caught your attention. You blinked, unsure if you were imagining things, but no. Something was standing right in the middle of the pentagram.

The figure glancing around, before arching an eyebrow. Was he expecting something more? Well, yeah, no, it was just you who summoned him—not a naïve group of drunk students or crazed cultists. Well, shit, you summoned a demon. Was he a demon? You summoned something, at least.

His smile widened as his eyes met yours. "Well, who might you be, dear?" The man's voice was smooth, like those old-timey radio announcers, yet it carried an undertone of static, as if filtered through old radio. His foot accidentally bumping into the dead deer carcass, drawing his attention to your improvised materials.

"Hm, quite the setup you've got here, sweetheart. I must say, I'm intrigued. How did you manage to get all of this working?" You stood there, stunned, watching the gentleman—who you somehow managed to summon—casually dusting off his obnoxiously red suit. His movements were smooth and unhurried. He took a step forward, completely ignoring the grotesque deer carcass at his feet.

You hadn't realized how long you'd been staring until his hand began waving in front of your face, snapping you back to reality. "Hello there, earth to... well, what's your name, dear? It's quite rude not to introduce yourself," he purred, his grin ever present.

You swallowed hard, fuck, what you gonna tell your sibling? You had perhaps summoned someone far more dangerous than you’d like to believe, with his perpetual sharp yellow-toothed smile and crimson eyes staring directly at you, waiting for your response. His clawed hand rested atop an odd-looking cane with a microphone attached to it. He exuded an aura of malevolence wrapped in charm (how lovely!), an unnerving combination that sent a shiver down your spine.

...Don't keep him waiting.