Your Local Milkman
Master of the Incomprehensible Ramble
As my lips were given form, they fashioned into a slighted wince. Being summoned was never a pleasant experience. It was the disorientation, really. Thoughts jumbled in a hazed confusion, perception reduced to an unreliable fuzz, limbs limited to lethargic swaying.
Ugh… how vexing.
Opening my eyes made me vulnerable to an ocular assault. Even in the dim light of the quaint, little room, the sudden stimulation proved overbearing. I blinked repeatedly, allowing my eyes to adjust to the whole seeing thing. Eventually, the influx of light and colors went from being absolutely blinding to just barely tolerable.
I furled and unfurled my right hand, getting a feel for the body. It had certainly been a while since I had last walked the physical plane. Performing these simple tasks required more effort than I particularly cared for. I was reminded once again of the inconveniences of the flesh. To think that mortals operated their entire lives under such strangulation.
I shuddered at the thought. The mere idea was enough to put me at unease. It would be akin to living with weights attached to each of your limbs. Or having to constantly move through molasses.
It took me at least a minute to become sufficiently adjusted. No longer suffering from sensory overload, I allowed my eyes to explore my surroundings. I did a quick spin, my gaze slithering along the walls. I was in a relatively standard living room—if a little spartan. Hard-wooden floors and cool-colored furniture. Western.
The center of the room had been cleared, the two couches and the coffee table having been pushed flush against the indigo walls. In the vacant space was the summoning circle which I now stood upon. It was an ugly thing. The wavering curves had been scrawled with an offensively pink chalk. It certainly wasn’t easy on the eyes.
I turned my gaze away from it to face the other presence in the room—the person who had summoned me. I blinked in surprise—it was but a child. The whelp looked to be just barely within his teens. The warm chestnut curls which adorned his head were messy and ungroomed. Facial hair had only just begun to emerge above those quivering lips. There were still traces of baby fat in those peachy cheeks of his. The boy's clothes were painfully banal—a green t-shirt and black jeans were all that he wore. Olive-colored eyes centered on me as he simply stared at me, slack-jawed and in disbelief.
This silent deadlock continued, and I felt a rise of impatience. Hand on my hip, I snapped, “Well? Not so much as a greeting?”
The boy remained speechless.
Is it the horns? Or perhaps the glowing eyes? Yes—the yellow, glowing eyes must be what’s spooking him.
“First time summoning I take it? Yes, yes. Astonishing—I know!” I fluttered my hands for emphasis. “But please, can we cease with the whole gawking? It’s putting me on edge.”
My words seemed to snap him out of his dazed state. He scrambled to pick up a dusty, leather-bound tome that had been lying on the floor. “I, um…” His eyes raked across the page as he stammered in a shaky voice, “ Fi-Fiend! You have heeded my call and, thus, have become bound to my will.”
My eyes narrowed. Fiend?
He continued with a nervous zeal, “Now, I order you: grant me three wishes. And in exchange, I bargain my soul.”
Silence.
The whole display was enough to shock me. There’s clearly some confusion here. Three wishes? Does he think me a genie? But he clearly called me a fiend.
But as I continued to process the situation, my initial bafflement transitioned into mild amusement. I trailed a finger along the curves of my left horn. Perhaps it was at the behest of some passing whim, but I decided to humor the boy. Let’s play along with his little game. I am curious as to what this boy’s intentions are.
My lips shaped into an impish grin, revealing two devilishly white fangs, “Three wishes? My, you are an audacious one. Last I recall, these transactions were typically a one-for-one deal. One soul for one wish. Yet here you have the gall to demand three?”
The boy's demeanor became sheepish as he ran a hand through his curled hair, “I, erm, well… how about two wishes?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Is he actually trying to bargain with me? This child certainly has some cheek to him.
“Two wishes, you say?” I placed a finger to my chin and directed my gaze upward. Oh, why not? After a moment of fake deliberation, I clapped my hands together, “Very well! We accept the terms of your pact.”
As the words left my mouth, I began to feel some slight pressure upon my breast. I instinctively lifted a hand to it—it was as though some invisible object was weighing down upon it. Judging by the uneasy expression on the boy’s face, he must have felt it as well.
“The feeling will subside shortly,” I explained. “Just an indicator that our souls have been linked. Proof that the contract manifested”
“Right...” he murmured.
As the pressure faded, I regarded the child curiously, “So? Have a name?”
He hesitated.
“My name is Charles Faust.”
“Charles,” I repeated. “And how old are you, Charles?”
“Twelve. But I’m turning thirteen this February.”
So young. My gaze fell onto the tome which hung from the boy’s hand. I gestured for it, “May I?”
He glanced down, clearly having forgotten about the book. After a moment of deliberation, he decided that the request was harmless enough and handed it to me. But the fact that he had hesitated yet again was not lost to me. It was clear that he was wary of me. Which was all well and fine—he was under the impression that I was of demonic origin, after all.
The relic was rich with a thick coat of dust. My expression soured as the cracked leather tainted my digits. My scowl only deepened as I began to skim through it. The pages were brittle and yellowed with age. The ink had long since faded, and as a result, most of the writing was unintelligible. The abysmal penmanship certainly didn’t help. It looked as though it had been written by a blind man.
The page which the boy had it opened to was one of the only pages which were even remotely legible. But from what I could read, I found that the book was some sort of compendium logged with information concerning devils and the unholy-like. This would explain why he thinks I’m a demon.
As I idly flipped through it, I asked, “Do you mind telling me how a child like you comes across an ancient thing like this?”
“I bought it at a second-hand shop. Found it with the rest of their used books.”
“That right?”
This was actually a cause for concern. Some of the information held within the tome had the potential for ruin. Had Charles performed any of the other rituals in the book…
Best if I dispose of this.
Without further delay, I set the book aflame in my hand. Pages that predated most countries crackled as they were consumed in an instant. A pungent smell filled the room as ash and smoke took to the air. With the flick of a hand, I dispelled the soot before it could trigger the smoke detector. Soon, all that remained was the smoldering spine that had once held the pages together. I let it fall to the floor.
I dusted my hands off nonchalantly. Only after I had finished did I glance over at the boy. His expression was a mixture of awe and confusion. On one hand, he was amazed to see me burn the book without so much as a match. And on the other, he felt a spark of outrage. “How’d you—no, why’d you do that?”
My lips became serpentine, “Why, so to destroy the only spell that could banish me.” My tone was very matter-of-fact. “With that annoying tome disposed of, I can conquer your world unfettered.”
My exaggerated tone seemed to go right over his pretty, little head. Fear crept onto the young boy’s face, uglying his expression. He took a step back. Perhaps it’s a bit premature for these kinds of antics.
I sighed, “I jest, of course. You’re a child, yes? Shouldn’t take everything so seriously.”
Although Charles looked reassured, it was only marginal. He was still, in all rights, cautious of me. All he could manage was a soft, “Oh.”
“Stiffer than a board, I see. I thought children were supposed to be more carefree.”
“I’m just a little… nervous.”
“Scared?”
“A little,” he admitted.
I stepped towards Charles, placing my hand on his shoulder, “Listen: I promise that I will not harm you. Do you understand?”
I let my words sink in. After a moment, he nodded, “Okay.”
“Good.”
My eyes glinted with mischief. I leaned in, whispering inches from his ear, “Though, the same could hardly be said for the rest of your kind.” Charles’s eyes flashed with alarm, and I added a quick, “Kidding!”
I gave him a critical look, “Tut-tut. We will have to work on developing you a sense of humor. Were I in your place, I would use my first wish to grant myself wit.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he challenged.
I stuck a forked tongue at him, “Means that you’re about as dull as bones. And in more than one regard, too.” It was certainly below me to taunt a child, but I felt that it had been necessary. I would rather him be agitated than fearful.
Cheeks tinted with crimson flush, the boy pouted at me, “Yeah? Well, uh, you talk funny, lady.”
My brow arched with interest. Oh? Looks like the whelp might have some bite to him, after all. Even if it is a weak one. The corners of my lips dipped a little as I lost my smirk. I should really ease with the teasing. For now, at least.
“Peace, Charles. Since we’ve touched on the topic of wishes,” my luminous eyes locked with those of the human, “what is that you wish for?”
Ugh… how vexing.
Opening my eyes made me vulnerable to an ocular assault. Even in the dim light of the quaint, little room, the sudden stimulation proved overbearing. I blinked repeatedly, allowing my eyes to adjust to the whole seeing thing. Eventually, the influx of light and colors went from being absolutely blinding to just barely tolerable.
I furled and unfurled my right hand, getting a feel for the body. It had certainly been a while since I had last walked the physical plane. Performing these simple tasks required more effort than I particularly cared for. I was reminded once again of the inconveniences of the flesh. To think that mortals operated their entire lives under such strangulation.
I shuddered at the thought. The mere idea was enough to put me at unease. It would be akin to living with weights attached to each of your limbs. Or having to constantly move through molasses.
It took me at least a minute to become sufficiently adjusted. No longer suffering from sensory overload, I allowed my eyes to explore my surroundings. I did a quick spin, my gaze slithering along the walls. I was in a relatively standard living room—if a little spartan. Hard-wooden floors and cool-colored furniture. Western.
The center of the room had been cleared, the two couches and the coffee table having been pushed flush against the indigo walls. In the vacant space was the summoning circle which I now stood upon. It was an ugly thing. The wavering curves had been scrawled with an offensively pink chalk. It certainly wasn’t easy on the eyes.
I turned my gaze away from it to face the other presence in the room—the person who had summoned me. I blinked in surprise—it was but a child. The whelp looked to be just barely within his teens. The warm chestnut curls which adorned his head were messy and ungroomed. Facial hair had only just begun to emerge above those quivering lips. There were still traces of baby fat in those peachy cheeks of his. The boy's clothes were painfully banal—a green t-shirt and black jeans were all that he wore. Olive-colored eyes centered on me as he simply stared at me, slack-jawed and in disbelief.
This silent deadlock continued, and I felt a rise of impatience. Hand on my hip, I snapped, “Well? Not so much as a greeting?”
The boy remained speechless.
Is it the horns? Or perhaps the glowing eyes? Yes—the yellow, glowing eyes must be what’s spooking him.
“First time summoning I take it? Yes, yes. Astonishing—I know!” I fluttered my hands for emphasis. “But please, can we cease with the whole gawking? It’s putting me on edge.”
My words seemed to snap him out of his dazed state. He scrambled to pick up a dusty, leather-bound tome that had been lying on the floor. “I, um…” His eyes raked across the page as he stammered in a shaky voice, “ Fi-Fiend! You have heeded my call and, thus, have become bound to my will.”
My eyes narrowed. Fiend?
He continued with a nervous zeal, “Now, I order you: grant me three wishes. And in exchange, I bargain my soul.”
Silence.
The whole display was enough to shock me. There’s clearly some confusion here. Three wishes? Does he think me a genie? But he clearly called me a fiend.
But as I continued to process the situation, my initial bafflement transitioned into mild amusement. I trailed a finger along the curves of my left horn. Perhaps it was at the behest of some passing whim, but I decided to humor the boy. Let’s play along with his little game. I am curious as to what this boy’s intentions are.
My lips shaped into an impish grin, revealing two devilishly white fangs, “Three wishes? My, you are an audacious one. Last I recall, these transactions were typically a one-for-one deal. One soul for one wish. Yet here you have the gall to demand three?”
The boy's demeanor became sheepish as he ran a hand through his curled hair, “I, erm, well… how about two wishes?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Is he actually trying to bargain with me? This child certainly has some cheek to him.
“Two wishes, you say?” I placed a finger to my chin and directed my gaze upward. Oh, why not? After a moment of fake deliberation, I clapped my hands together, “Very well! We accept the terms of your pact.”
As the words left my mouth, I began to feel some slight pressure upon my breast. I instinctively lifted a hand to it—it was as though some invisible object was weighing down upon it. Judging by the uneasy expression on the boy’s face, he must have felt it as well.
“The feeling will subside shortly,” I explained. “Just an indicator that our souls have been linked. Proof that the contract manifested”
“Right...” he murmured.
As the pressure faded, I regarded the child curiously, “So? Have a name?”
He hesitated.
“My name is Charles Faust.”
“Charles,” I repeated. “And how old are you, Charles?”
“Twelve. But I’m turning thirteen this February.”
So young. My gaze fell onto the tome which hung from the boy’s hand. I gestured for it, “May I?”
He glanced down, clearly having forgotten about the book. After a moment of deliberation, he decided that the request was harmless enough and handed it to me. But the fact that he had hesitated yet again was not lost to me. It was clear that he was wary of me. Which was all well and fine—he was under the impression that I was of demonic origin, after all.
The relic was rich with a thick coat of dust. My expression soured as the cracked leather tainted my digits. My scowl only deepened as I began to skim through it. The pages were brittle and yellowed with age. The ink had long since faded, and as a result, most of the writing was unintelligible. The abysmal penmanship certainly didn’t help. It looked as though it had been written by a blind man.
The page which the boy had it opened to was one of the only pages which were even remotely legible. But from what I could read, I found that the book was some sort of compendium logged with information concerning devils and the unholy-like. This would explain why he thinks I’m a demon.
As I idly flipped through it, I asked, “Do you mind telling me how a child like you comes across an ancient thing like this?”
“I bought it at a second-hand shop. Found it with the rest of their used books.”
“That right?”
This was actually a cause for concern. Some of the information held within the tome had the potential for ruin. Had Charles performed any of the other rituals in the book…
Best if I dispose of this.
Without further delay, I set the book aflame in my hand. Pages that predated most countries crackled as they were consumed in an instant. A pungent smell filled the room as ash and smoke took to the air. With the flick of a hand, I dispelled the soot before it could trigger the smoke detector. Soon, all that remained was the smoldering spine that had once held the pages together. I let it fall to the floor.
I dusted my hands off nonchalantly. Only after I had finished did I glance over at the boy. His expression was a mixture of awe and confusion. On one hand, he was amazed to see me burn the book without so much as a match. And on the other, he felt a spark of outrage. “How’d you—no, why’d you do that?”
My lips became serpentine, “Why, so to destroy the only spell that could banish me.” My tone was very matter-of-fact. “With that annoying tome disposed of, I can conquer your world unfettered.”
My exaggerated tone seemed to go right over his pretty, little head. Fear crept onto the young boy’s face, uglying his expression. He took a step back. Perhaps it’s a bit premature for these kinds of antics.
I sighed, “I jest, of course. You’re a child, yes? Shouldn’t take everything so seriously.”
Although Charles looked reassured, it was only marginal. He was still, in all rights, cautious of me. All he could manage was a soft, “Oh.”
“Stiffer than a board, I see. I thought children were supposed to be more carefree.”
“I’m just a little… nervous.”
“Scared?”
“A little,” he admitted.
I stepped towards Charles, placing my hand on his shoulder, “Listen: I promise that I will not harm you. Do you understand?”
I let my words sink in. After a moment, he nodded, “Okay.”
“Good.”
My eyes glinted with mischief. I leaned in, whispering inches from his ear, “Though, the same could hardly be said for the rest of your kind.” Charles’s eyes flashed with alarm, and I added a quick, “Kidding!”
I gave him a critical look, “Tut-tut. We will have to work on developing you a sense of humor. Were I in your place, I would use my first wish to grant myself wit.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he challenged.
I stuck a forked tongue at him, “Means that you’re about as dull as bones. And in more than one regard, too.” It was certainly below me to taunt a child, but I felt that it had been necessary. I would rather him be agitated than fearful.
Cheeks tinted with crimson flush, the boy pouted at me, “Yeah? Well, uh, you talk funny, lady.”
My brow arched with interest. Oh? Looks like the whelp might have some bite to him, after all. Even if it is a weak one. The corners of my lips dipped a little as I lost my smirk. I should really ease with the teasing. For now, at least.
“Peace, Charles. Since we’ve touched on the topic of wishes,” my luminous eyes locked with those of the human, “what is that you wish for?”
