Salt, chalk, bones, ash, the candles, a knife. They were all there. Mary carefully lit her mother's scented candles. They had names like Bluebird's Morning and Deserted Beach. She was not fond of the smells and together the five wicks burned a blaze of strong furniture store odor. Mary place each in a circle. She carefully poured the salt in a circle within the candle circle and then connected the candle points in a pentagon. Next: A star connecting the candle points. In each of the five points she etched a symbol with the chalk. The symbols were like alphabetic letters, but somehow unsettling, as if Y and S and joined in an unholy union – bonded by hatred and mutation rather than love and creativity. She put the bones (dug up from a pet gerbil named “Randy” that had passed two Springs prior) in the spaces between the points. She put the ash (gathered from the fireplace) in the center. She stood, and cut. Blood dripped onto the ash. She spoke something like an inverted Latin. Vinet tumpes, cunsergot survem muem e anvicont ti. Her voice was dry and dark. It came not from throat or chest but the pit of her stomach where the mysterious and neglected organs silently dwell, resentful and unpraised. She muttered this six times, steadily getting louder, until, with a clap, the candles suddenly were blown out. Slowly, light returned to Mary's room. It was emitted from the six eyes of the creature before her. Who calls upon Ixhabrazax? Hi, I'm Mary, Mary Jackson. I'm in fifth grade. Mary Jackson? Yes. What is fifth grade? Is it akin to the Fifth Circle? The circle where the wrathful are punished for their rage? Kinda, but not really Mary said. There was a pause. Why have you summoned me mortal? Ixhabrazax cried with what may have been impatiance. Why does anyone call you, Ixhabrazax? To do my bidding. I have a book report due tomorrow, and I didn't read the book. I need you to do it for me. Please. Mary added. The demon's many eyes blinked. Book. . . report? Yes, Mary said. From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. It's the book. I didn't read it. Two kids run away to a zoo or museum or something. The demon let out what may have been a sigh. Lucifer requires something in exchange for services. . . Mary seemed to ponder for a moment. My first born? She suggested. A drop of saliva emerged from Ixhabrazax's mouth. It splashed upon the floor. Their claws clattered. Yessssss came the low hiss of their voice. Bring me the book.
Mary sat at her desk. She played a video game involving kittens. She texted her friend Laney about other kids at school. She read a webcomic involving subject matter appealing to children ages 10-14. Ixhabrazax read.
Mary got tired. She brushed her teeth and hair and changed into an over-sized t-shirt that had belonged to her godfather. It was blue with white writing that said “Alka Seltzer” in intaliced script. She turned off her computer and got into bed. Ixhabrazax read.
Mary awoke. The demon stared at her. It spoke:
“The adventure is over. Everything gets over, and nothing is ever enough. Except the part you carry with you. It's the same as going on a vacation. Some people spend all their time on a vacation taking pictures so that when they get home they can show their friends evidence that they had a good time. They don't pause to let the vacation enter inside of them and take that home.”
A black oily secretion was dripped from Ibrazax's fifth eye (middle left). Mary noticed a small puddle beneath the demon.
Her music box alarm rang. Getting up she saw all traces of the beast gone. All except a small report neatly typed upon her desk. She leafed through it – good, except for the sulphur smell. But what teacher grades you down for how your paper smells? She stuffed it in her backpack, went downstairs and ate some cereal, changed out of her oversized shirt and into jeans and a shirt with the likeness of Zayn Malik on it. She left for school.
The next week, papers were handed back. Mrs. Glesaye had written on Mary's paper. She wrote an A+ with a circle around it. She wrote: Very good Mary! I love it when my students love a book as much as you clearly did! Interesting ideas! I've never thought about Claudia and Jamie being representations of Lucifer falling from Grace before. . .
Ixhabrazax stoked the fire beneath one of his victim's suspended feet. They thought about the book and existance and how we change and how we spend out time. The demon considered these things, as they idly peeled the skin from the face of another sinner.