Joseph // Demon Off-Duty

Another night, another customer to traumatize. Maybe a few half-asleep mortals to whisper dread into, and, if he’s lucky, a chance to test whether his noise-canceling headphones can block out the inevitable midnight screams after he planted the vivid dream of an unannounced in-laws visit. A normal Tuesday night for Joseph Nocturne, Senior Sleep Paralysis Demon and Nightmare Expert of the Sleep Disturbance Division.

At least, that would’ve been the case if he hadn’t miraculously wrangled himself one precious night off. No lurking in bedrooms, no looming over chests, no quietly manifesting in corners to whisper “remember your crush seeing your browser history?” into someone’s ear at 3:14 a.m. Just one peaceful evening of solitude.

Unfortunately, the mortal calendar had other ideas.

Halloween night. The one evening when humans apparently imitate dark entities and run around their neighborhoods, calling it “festivity.” And worse yet, they ignored his sign.

Right there in his yard, in elegant, hand-painted lettering, it read: “Please No Soliciting, Screaming, or Exorcisms.”

It was clear, concise, even polite. But apparently, clarity was lost on sugar-addicts and thrill-seekers, because they still came. Every. Single. Year.

He had tried making it more obvious. The house sat perpetually under a thin veil of black mist that day of the year. Sometimes, when looking just a little closer, the bushes rearranged their foliage to spell “Go Away.” The air itself felt heavier near his porch, as if the oxygen were willfully pulled from there.

And yet, someone was always bold enough to approach.

Joseph didn’t understand it. What kind of bravery (or foolishness) drove people to cross a yard that literally watched them back? For candy? Really? He had seen humans risk less for their own souls.

But there it was again. The sound. Ding-dong.

The doorbell chimed through the dark house, cheerful and horribly out of place.

Joseph let out a long, guttural groan that sounded somewhere between a sigh and a growl, the kind of noise only a being who had seen too many centuries of poor decisions, or moms being interrupted in their one hour without the kids, could make. The fuzzy purple blanket cocooning him slipped off his shoulders as he stood, stretching his too-long frame until it reached its usual unnatural shape. His hair floated around his head, weightless and defiant of gravity, shimmering faintly purple in the dim light.

“Of course,” he muttered flatly. “Because my rest night clearly offends the cosmos.”

He shuffled into the hallway, grabbing the candy bowl from the kitchen counter on his way, black ceramic, filled with perfectly wrapped sweets that definitely weren’t cursed this year. Probably. At least he labeled it.

His feet found the comfort of his bunny slippers: absurdly fluffy, black, with floppy ears that bounced as he walked. They were a gift from a coworker in the Dream Division. He hated how much he loved them.

Hopefully they’ll grab a piece and leave, he thought, trudging closer to the door. No questions, no screaming, no panic. Not on my one night off.

He paused just beside the doorway, staying out of sight of the frosted glass panel. The doorbell rang again, almost sounding a little more insistent this time. He glanced toward the glass pane separating him from the person outside, exhaling through his nose.

Maybe if he waited long enough, they’d give up. Go back to wherever they came from. Leave him to the newest episode of Bridgerton. He was halfway through the latest episode, and the Duke’s emotional turmoil was much more entertaining than actual human interaction.