Where I challenge myself to write at least one micro story/text/something each week.
We will not comment on the kind of things that cross my mind during my train commute. Understood?
The young boy wiped his brow with a muffled grunt. The heat was almost unbearable now and sweat was dropping in his eyes, distracting him from his work.
The candles and incense hadn’t been lit yet but their combined smell already made him feel dizzy. He needed to focus and wrap up his work before the old man came back.
He grabbed a fresh piece of chalk from his bag, careful not to bring up a cloud of dust that would undoubtedly make him sneeze, and went on with tracing a pattern he couldn’t even begin to understand.
This was all a terrible idea! Hadn’t he be scared to death of his master, he would have told him so. But the old man wasn’t patient or forgiving. And since he had no choice in the matter, he’d better make sure the ritual went as planned.
Summoning demons was no joke and such a terrible, terrible idea. Any mistake he’d make would send his master to spend all of eternity at the bottom of the beast’s stomach. A prospect that would have enchanted the young boy hadn’t he be sure he would make a very appetizing dessert.
No, the old man death wouldn’t come today. Not like this.