Eternal Hell

by Jaelle Terrell

Wayne pulled over at the edge of the cornfield.  He killed his pickup and turned off the lights.  “Get it.”  She pulled it out from under the seat.

It was a book.  Wayne’s father was the town librarian and he drafted Wayne to help him last Saturday.  They were installing new bookshelves and when they pried out an old shelf there it was under 150 years of dust.  Wayne saw its title in faded gold letters.  Gamol Morfa.  He quickly stuffed the book into his backpack

Karen knocked on his bedroom door.  “Where is it?”  Wayne set the book on his desk.  “Cool.”  They flipped through the yellowed pages.  The text was scratched out in a strange lettering, and drawings of people and animals danced across the pages. 

She peered at the battered old book.  “Gamol Morfa.  What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know, but look.”  He turned the pages.  “This first part here is potions.  See?  Love potion.  Sleep potion.  Death potion.”  An icy chill swept over both of them.

“Then spells.  Good harvest.  Fertility.”  He stopped.  “Conjuring a demon.  Wow.  How cool would that be?”

“Umm, dude.  I don’t know.”

“You don’t believe this, do you?  It’s a goof!  It’ll be something to do.”

Karen’s idea of something to do was to go to Pittsville, where they had a McDonald’s and a bowling alley.  “Why don’t we start with something simple like a sleep spell?”

“Besides,” Wayne went on, “the next spell.  See?  Controlling a demon.  See?  We can make him do our evil bidding.  Ha ha ha!” he laughed maniacally, tickling her sides.

“Okay, okay,” Karen laughed, “and then McDonald’s.”

“Okay, cool.”

They studied the incantation together.  “The conjurer must be wearing black.”

“Well, duh.”  It was the only color either of them ever wore.

“It must be performed in a graveyard.”

“When the full moon has risen.”

“This is too funny,” Karen said.

“This is too bitchin’.  Graveyard.  Hmm.  There’s that one next to the old church on 18.”

“There’s a graveyard there?”

“Well, not what you’d call a real graveyard.  There’s like a dozen people buried there, but it’s real old.”

“When should we go?”

“Definitely tonight.”  He rubbed his hands together.

They crept through the cornfield toward the old church in the dark.  “This isn’t half as much fun as I thought it’d be,” Karen thought.

“Ssshh,” she whispered.

“Why?”  Wayne boomed out.  “There’s no one here.”

They walked by the boarded up little building and the dilapidated sign in front.

 A rectangular box with a simple black border read: 

They picked their way through the overgrown lot to the neat little rows of gravestones and leaned against a battered old fence.  It was a warm summer night with a few clouds in the black starry sky.  The moon had just peeked out on the horizon. 

“The book.”  She handed it to him.  There was just enough light to read the ancient print.

“This is just too … “ Karen’s voice trailed away.

Wayne began in a slow steady voice.  “Merick dialtus orove Devor … “

Suddenly a wind swirled up around them.  The moonlight playing across the grave markers glowed with a reddish tinge.

“Whoa.”

“Dude, this isn’t fun anymore.  This is like … this book is real or something.  Let’s go!  Please!”

“No way!” Wayne’s eyes were glazed over.  “We can control it.  Remember?  The next page, remember?  Controlling a demon.  If we do, if this is real we can control it.  We can make it do our bidding.”  His eyes were dancing.

Karen clutched his arm.  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

Wayne started over.  This time he didn’t stop.  The wind swirled around them.  An eerie light fell over the churchyard.  The wind whipped their hair and clothing.  Suddenly the ground split in front of them in a long diagonal crack across the tombstoned site.  A red-black light glowed from the raw wound in the ground.  A sulfur smell permeated.

“Wayne!”

But it was too late.

Up out of the ground rose the demon.  Up and up, ten feet in the air.  A leathery face, half man and half beast let out a blood-curdling shriek as the demon rose and stretched its great wings.  Terrifying horns curled up from his head and sharp teeth jutted from its elongated jaw.  The glowing red eyes examined the two kids with a malevolent intelligence. 

“W … W … Wayne,”  Karen clutched his arm.  “The … the controlling …”

He turned the page quickly.  The great beast roared out something in an ancient guttural language. 

Wayne began.  “Mu … Mu …”  he stammered, quaking with fear.

The demon grabbed Wayne around the waist with steely talons.  The book dropped to the ground.  Karen screamed as it lifted Wayne up, his legs flailing helplessly.  The demon bit off Wayne’s head and shoulders and spat them to the ground.  Karen watched helplessly as the demon sucked the contents out of Wayne’s limp torso and dropped the lifeless shell.  It reached out and grabbed Karen.  Its massive wings spread wide with a loud snap and they pumped once, twice, and lifted into the air.  Clutching her tightly it soared up above the church.

Suddenly the demon wheeled around and arced back to the ground.  Braking its wings at the last second he snatched up the book.  He rose quickly into the clear night sky and was gone.

Moonlight played over the silent little church, the graveyard with its newest addition, and the cornfield.  Everything was still and quiet.

Malakoth threw the front door open with a crash.  He strode into the room, stretched his great wings and roared.  Karen appeared at the top of the stairs.  “You’re late.”

Malakoth grumbled.

“Well, wipe your feet.  I just did the floor.”

Malakoth grumbled.  He grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and flopped into his great chair.  He put his feet up and grabbed the remote.

“What are you doing?”   She stood in front of him clutching her hair dryer like a pistol.  “You know we’re going to my parents tonight.  A beer?  Really?  And get your dirty feet off the coffee table.”

            Malakoth grumbled.

            “You have to get cleaned up.  We have to leave in a half hour.  And remember when we get there, no politics.  You know Daddy loves to push your buttons.”  

Malakoth grumbled.  He shut his eyes and thought of happier times.

~ Jaelle Terrell

copyright © 2023 Jaelle Terrell