Young Writers Society

Chapter one

Steps echoed down the street. Terry wove in the midst of the crowd. The pavement was soaked with that afternoon’s rain, which hadn’t been a downpour, but rather a persistent drizzle. It had left a damp chill in the air, which wasn’t Terry’s favorite weather. He hurried back to his apartment. Naomi would be disappointed he couldn’t return with what she had asked for.

It had been a sudden and strange request for a type of flower he didn’t quite remember the name of anymore. The scrap of paper Naomi had written it down on had been smudged in the damp air. The flower shop had been closed, and probably wouldn’t have had it anyhow. He hoped she could do without it, or otherwise track it down herself.

He entered the building that housed his apartment and puffed out a sigh of exhaustion. He disliked the contract that bound him to do what Naomi requested. She didn’t request often, but when she did, it was quite often out of his means. He caught the elevator up and unlocked his apartment. He could hear the television in the other room, probably a game show of some sort. Naomi seemed to be entranced by them.

“Couldn’t find it,” Terry called in as he kicked his shoes off.

“Oh, that is too bad,” Naomi called back, muting the TV and walking to the doorway. She leaned against the frame. “You did ask, right?”

“The place was closed,” Terry responded. Naomi made a sound of slight disappointment.

“Oh well. It is such a pain to perform the ritual without it. One must find a great assortment of substitutional items, and that does not work nearly as well,” she said, waving her hand dismissively, as if said substitutions weren’t even worth her thought.

“I hope you weren’t planning to perform that ritual in here.” Naomi made a pouty face.

“Oh, come now, where else am I supposed to practice such important things? You must know by now that the plebeians would have fits if they saw my true form. I can only trust you not to look at me. And you know how Circle dislikes putting the plebeians in danger.”

Terry sighed. Naomi often pulled the danger card when she wanted to get her way. It was but one of the many tricks she had up her sleeve. Her deceptively charming looks hid a crafty interior. But her species was infamous for that sort of thing.

“I will not put up with strange enchantments or voodoo rituals happening in my house anymore. It’s got to stop. I’m putting my foot down.”

“But Terrance,” Naomi bubbled, “You are aware that it is part of the contract that you must provide everything that I need. And that includes a safe and secluded place to do my business.” She cocked her head to the side and smiled demurely. “You would not wish to break contract, would you? You do not wish to anger The Circle?”

And there was another of her favorite threats. “Fine,” Terry conceded. “But in your room this time, not the kitchen.”

“It is a deal,” Naomi purred happily. “Now never mind the flower, come see this plebeian answer the questions! It is most amusing.” She disappeared into the other room. Terry sighed and removed his coat. He was basically bound by contract not to say no to her. Unless, that is, her request would put herself or others in danger.

He passed through the living room on the way to his bedroom. Naomi was watching Jeopardy and clapping in amusement when somebody got a question wrong. Terry was sick of game shows. They became very repetitive after weeks of nothing else. Naomi had not been in his care for no more than two months, but she was already such a handful.

Once in his bedroom, he closed his door and opened his laptop. Upon checking his email, he found an unopened letter from his pen pal. The Circle set up all the newbies with other hosts to talk to. It was good to be able to talk to others that faced the same issues.It was also a good way to relieve stress. His pen pal was a young woman named Flannery Georgeson. She had the misfortune of being stuck with Xabi, who caused much trouble.

Flannery’s email, as Terry had suspected, was a rant full of everything that Xabi had done that week. Terry was silently thankful that Naomi behaved herself in comparison. The email ended with ‘And how is your week going?’, which Terry was happy to answer. He didn’t realize how much annoyance was pent up inside him until twenty minutes later, when he had effortlessly typed a three paragraph long complaint about Naomi.

He sent the email and, after checking a few websites, closed the laptop. He exited the room and checked back in on Naomi. She could generally be trusted, but she did like to cause mischief. Her kind was known for it. She wasn’t watching Jeopardy, though the TV was still on. Terry picked up the remote to turn it off.

“Come now, I am still viewing that,” Naomi said from the kitchen. Terry jumped, surprised he hadn’t seen her. She had made a mess of the counter.

“I told you no rituals in the kitchen,” Terry said in annoyance.

“It is not a ritual,” Naomi said, “It is the ‘ice cream sundae’.” Whatever it was, it wasn’t a typical sundae. There was ice cream and whipped cream, but other than that, everything else seemed very much out of place. Under a thick layer of whipped cream, Terry could see various spices, crackers, a sugary cereal, and a full-sized Snickers bar. God only knows what else was there.

“I don’t think you’re making it right,” Terry pointed out.

“I will make it the way I wish it to be made,” Naomi said stubbornly, applying more Thyme to top it off. Terry cringed as she took a bite. She gagged and put down the bowl. “Why do you plebeians eat such a thing?” Terry shook his head.

“We don’t. If you want an ice cream sundae, maybe you should let a human do it before you try to make it. Oh, and you’re cleaning up the counter.” Terry was almost surprised that this wasn’t fazing him anymore. It was becoming normal to him. After all, he was living with a demon.