by: Greg Schwartz.

“Argulo… spectra… glammock!” Derrick threw up his hands like the picture in the grimoire. The air shimmered. It was working!

“Whatcha doing?” Lanie stood in his doorway.

“I’m summoning a demon,” Derrick said.

Lanie glanced around the dorm room at the candles, spell book, incense.

“Don’t you need a pentagram for that?”

“I have one,” Derrick said, gesturing at the chalk lines on the floor.

“That’s a pentagon.” Lanie strolled away down the hall. “Make the demon teach you geometry.”

He froze. That meant—

The air whooshed like a hundred gas stoves igniting. The room reeked of sulfur.

Derrick gulped.

© 2024. Greg Schwartz

Greg Schwartz writes speculative fiction and poetry. He lives with his wife, children, and dog. His drabbles have appeared in Black Hare Press and Hiraeth Publishing anthologies. In a pre-fatherhood life, he was a reviewer for Whispers of Wickedness.

Posted June 12, 2024.