Maggie sat in her condo’s darkened living room with her back to the door to the second bedroom, the one they had turned into a nursery three years ago. It was nearly mid-day, but the blinds were closed. Sunlight persisted around the edges of the window, but seemed afraid to enter any further. Maggie wondered when the shadows would shift again.
A dark figure, in disheveled clothes, looking hungry and tired, silently slipped through the bedroom door, pulled it nearly closed, and crept behind Maggie on padded feet. He reached down to the back of the sofa with his hands on both sides of her head and spoke to her at almost a whisper. “I don’t believe it, but Marcus is down for his nap. Again.”
Maggie sighed and responded at a higher volume. “Lucas, is he still floating two feet over his bed?”
Lucas looked down. “Yes.”
Maggie turned her head to look up over her right shoulder, tearing up. “That is not our son, and you know it.”
Lucas scratched the back of his head. “Look, I know it has been less than 24 hours, but think of it this way. No food fights. No toys broken. He hasn’t cussed you out once since that seizure at lunch yesterday. He sleeps for more than 15 minutes at a time. Do you remember the last time that happened?”
Maggie turned back around. “But, the floating. And, his stare with that creepy smile as he watches C-SPAN. How can you overlook everything else that is happening?” She turned back around and a gurgled cry of alarm escaped her lips, against her better judgment.
Lucas flinched. “He’s behind me, isn’t he?” Maggie nodded slowly. Lucas turned with a big warm smile to his young son, floating five feet in the air. “Hi, Marcus, buddy! Don’t you want to rest more? Congress is in recess today, remember?”
Something was wrong, or at least different. The boy’s cheeks were puffy and wet, like he had been crying. The boy wiped his face and nose on his sleeve. He spoke with his son’s voice, yet with that slightly delayed echo again, several octaves too unnaturally deep, that made Lucas’s tooth fillings ache. “First, it is important that you know my true name. I am Marax, Great Earl and President of Hell.”
“May I call you Max?”
“No. Second, as much fun as I have had here, I appear to be a bit early and would like to go now.” Their son twirled his right hand in the air and a piece of paper appeared in his grasp with a flourish of sizzling dark energy. He handed the paper to his father. “This is a list of ordained priests in the Tri-State Area, all very knowledgeable in the matters of the truly arcane. Prior personal experience is not a true prerequisite. I was a willing possessor, yes, but I can not now do this myself and simply leave. It is – complicated.”
Maggie clapped her mouth shut and composed herself. She turned around to kneel on the sofa. “What are you talking about?”
“Look, the Boss, and I mean the One True Boss Up There, he produced everything, right? This trial before you was for humanity, not me! I apologize for intruding and need to go now, please. Tell any of those good devout people that you have this to guide them.” Their son clapped both hands together and a dusty ancient book popped into existence with another purple sparkle. He placed the book down on the back of the couch gently, opened to a specific page.
Lucas asked, “Is that really old paper, or –?” He swallowed.
Maggie ran a finger on the page, looked at it, and shook her hand in disgust. “Please tell me that is not human.”
With that second strange voice still echoing, but with a more nervous edge now, their son said, “I did not write nor bind this, but I admire the craftsmanship, too! That last number on the list, my good Lucas, is a Vatican tip line that will give you a drop location, for when this is all over. They will certainly be happy to see this book returned to their library, but please wait until we are done. I beg you! Here, I also translated the Aramaic phonetically.”
Lucas gingerly turned the book around. The facing two pages were scribbled over in red crayon. He began reading aloud. “Klaatu bara–”
Their son waved his fists in the air and twisted his torso as he bellowed in pain. “No, you idiot! It must be a true person of faith who speaks, or I will just be trapped here!”
Maggie asked, “Marax, what is going on here?”
Their son had another floating fit. “I have glimpsed his darkest of dark thoughts and would like to go now. I was supposed to find a host after Marcus completed his agenda. My bad.”
Maggie turned pale. “Marax, where is Marcus now?”
“He thinks he is watching the puppy emergency services, or maybe it is those weird talking mushrooms? I can’t keep up.” Their son’s face dissolved into a familiar deep scowl, the one just before the tantrums would begin. “He gets bored and keeps asking who I am and is – impatient. I am not supposed to be here!”
Lucas started wandering towards the kitchen area, reading the paper in his hands.
“Where are you going?” cried Maggie.
Lucas stopped. “My phone is on the table.”
Oblivious, Marax continued. “And, the things he says to me! The nerve – I was never born in the first place. We Masters of Hell emerged from the timeless well of creation that begat all of the Boss’s first minions.” The smile recently reserved for TV blossomed on their son’s face. “Yes! I can simply take him back there with me, if he thinks he wants that outcome so much. No demon has truly attempted to unmake themselves before! This is brilliant!”
Their son shrunk down to a purple ball of energy before fizzling out with a small wheezing puff of smoke, like a failed firecracker.
Maggie looked at the insane book in front of her. She asked, “Oh my god, is it over?”
Every car alarm on their block went off at once as the earthquakes started.
For Reddit WritingPrompt [WP] When your child got possessed, it was a relief. Instead of tantrums and destroying things, now they just stare creepily and levitate while otherwise being very well-behaved. Today, you feel a tap on your shoulder. With tears in their eyes, your little demon begs you to call an exorcist, also known as “more apocalyptical children.”