Title: Lost Property
Rating: G
Author: Jen
Summary: Andrew still has a few things to learn about demon summoning
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's notes: I think I must have dreamt about part of this, since the
idea was the first thing that came to me when I woke up this morning.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Throughout his studies of demonology, Andrew had always marvelled at the variety in size, colour, temperament, and in some cases number of horns, of the demons that walked the earth. But he was very quickly learning that actually, they were all kind of the same.
The thing that had popped into the room when his chant had ceased had to be some kind of demon. It was all part of the spell. Only demons were supposed to respond to it. Except it didn't look at all like any demon Andrew had ever seen. It didn't even look like any demon he could ever imagine. If he saw it in the street, it wouldn't make him go, "Aargh! Demon!" and run away. Well, possibly there might be running away, but it wouldn't be the result of demon-fear.
Demons, he realised, tended to come in two basic models. Humanoid, with some interesting variations in skin colour, but basically upright with two legs, two arms and the head on top. Or resembling some form of animal, whether well-known, like werewolves, or prehistoric, like the giant squid- like Bezoar which Jonathan claimed to have seen in the basement of the old high school once.
This, on the other hand, didn't even look alive. Well, parts of it did. The hundred or so little legs underneath it looked alive. They shifted, centipede-like, as if to prove it. But the main part, which Andrew decided was probably the body, looked like wood. Specifically, like a large wooden chest, of the type he'd found in his grandfather's attic when they'd cleared the house the week after the funeral. A seafarer's chest, straight out of a storybook. Only with legs.
The legs were the only bits that Andrew could recognise as body parts, yet he'd swear the thing was looking at him. There were no eyes. There were no suspicious knotholes that looked like eyes. Yet Andrew would swear he was being watched. Occasionally it would tilt from one side to the other, as if studying him carefully, and Andrew could only sit and stare back, wondering what the hell this thing was and why it had appeared in his room. All he could be sure of was a sense of confused annoyance, as if the thing was about to get exceedingly angry, just as soon as it worked out why.
As Andrew watched, the lid of the chest-part raised itself a fraction, and he gasped at the sight of something moving inside, a swish of deepest mahogany-red, like dried blood. What he really wanted was to get up leave the room, preferably locking the door behind him and perhaps torching the house as he left to be sure that the thing couldn't come after him, but it stood between him and the door. He contemplated calling for help, but calculated fairly quickly the amount of time it would take for help to arrive compared with the amount of time it would take for the chest to do something unspeakably horrible.
When its little legs began to move, he cowered backwards, wishing the wall behind him would swallow him up and keep him safe, but there was no escape. Unable to move, he stared in pant-wetting terror as the thing marched up to him, drew back one tiny, calloused foot, and kicked him sharply on the shin. Then its dozens of legs performed what looked like an incredibly complicated manoeuvre that turned its body through 180 degrees, and scuttled out of the open door and down the hall.
He rubbed his shin distractedly, listening to the patter of a hundred miniature footfalls disappearing down the hallway. When he eventually rose and looked out the door, there was no sign of it.
Andrew sighed, his brow creased in confusion, before returning to the room. He picked up the book in which he'd found the summoning spell and carefully pencilled into the margin, 'do not try this again'.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Throughout his studies of demonology, Andrew had always marvelled at the variety in size, colour, temperament, and in some cases number of horns, of the demons that walked the earth. But he was very quickly learning that actually, they were all kind of the same.
The thing that had popped into the room when his chant had ceased had to be some kind of demon. It was all part of the spell. Only demons were supposed to respond to it. Except it didn't look at all like any demon Andrew had ever seen. It didn't even look like any demon he could ever imagine. If he saw it in the street, it wouldn't make him go, "Aargh! Demon!" and run away. Well, possibly there might be running away, but it wouldn't be the result of demon-fear.
Demons, he realised, tended to come in two basic models. Humanoid, with some interesting variations in skin colour, but basically upright with two legs, two arms and the head on top. Or resembling some form of animal, whether well-known, like werewolves, or prehistoric, like the giant squid- like Bezoar which Jonathan claimed to have seen in the basement of the old high school once.
This, on the other hand, didn't even look alive. Well, parts of it did. The hundred or so little legs underneath it looked alive. They shifted, centipede-like, as if to prove it. But the main part, which Andrew decided was probably the body, looked like wood. Specifically, like a large wooden chest, of the type he'd found in his grandfather's attic when they'd cleared the house the week after the funeral. A seafarer's chest, straight out of a storybook. Only with legs.
The legs were the only bits that Andrew could recognise as body parts, yet he'd swear the thing was looking at him. There were no eyes. There were no suspicious knotholes that looked like eyes. Yet Andrew would swear he was being watched. Occasionally it would tilt from one side to the other, as if studying him carefully, and Andrew could only sit and stare back, wondering what the hell this thing was and why it had appeared in his room. All he could be sure of was a sense of confused annoyance, as if the thing was about to get exceedingly angry, just as soon as it worked out why.
As Andrew watched, the lid of the chest-part raised itself a fraction, and he gasped at the sight of something moving inside, a swish of deepest mahogany-red, like dried blood. What he really wanted was to get up leave the room, preferably locking the door behind him and perhaps torching the house as he left to be sure that the thing couldn't come after him, but it stood between him and the door. He contemplated calling for help, but calculated fairly quickly the amount of time it would take for help to arrive compared with the amount of time it would take for the chest to do something unspeakably horrible.
When its little legs began to move, he cowered backwards, wishing the wall behind him would swallow him up and keep him safe, but there was no escape. Unable to move, he stared in pant-wetting terror as the thing marched up to him, drew back one tiny, calloused foot, and kicked him sharply on the shin. Then its dozens of legs performed what looked like an incredibly complicated manoeuvre that turned its body through 180 degrees, and scuttled out of the open door and down the hall.
He rubbed his shin distractedly, listening to the patter of a hundred miniature footfalls disappearing down the hallway. When he eventually rose and looked out the door, there was no sign of it.
Andrew sighed, his brow creased in confusion, before returning to the room. He picked up the book in which he'd found the summoning spell and carefully pencilled into the margin, 'do not try this again'.