writing

When Demons Dance

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Photo by Zain Ali from Pexels

Let me just say this.

When it comes to Satan’s minions, they’ve got a lot going for them.  The main one is their power to adapt their physical manifestations to whatever is considered bone-meltingly sexy at the time.  So when God’s Rejected walked into the bar where I was trying to finish my thesis introduction, his cover-of-Men’s-Health physique lending a lot of weight to the theory that God threw Satan out of heaven for being the prettier one, I was prepared for the surge of attraction.

But like most things having to do with men and sex, there’s a lot of build up and not a lot of delivery.

So when he sat down and told me he needed my help to save the universe by telling me “We need your help to save the universe,” I sighed and told him no.

He had that charm school drawl, all satin and musk.  I wondered if he practiced at night in the dark or workshopped it in a meeting of Drama Hobbyists Anonymous.  Shame no one mentioned that inviting someone to help you save the universe required more than just physical seduction.  What?  A girl likes to be courted before saving the world.

“You would be a great asset to us,” he said.

“As well as contribute a great ass,” I said and I gave him an overt glance-over.  “Not that you need another addition.”  Hint hint nudge nudge.

“You don’t think we could use someone of your talents?”

Better.

“This feels a lot like reverse psychology,” I said.  “Can’t you at least manipulate me over a whiskey sour?”

He raised a hand, lazy, almost languid, and ordered.  The bartender, Joe, didn’t seem impressed with his satin and musk voice.  Maybe the Son of Satan wasn’t as impressive as he thought he was.  Maybe Joe wasn’t as gay as I thought he was.

“Truth is, she isn’t what we expected.  Her powers–”

“Let’s call her Blossom.”

He blinked.  “What?”

“Code name.  Blossom.  Continue.”  Joe slid the drink to me with a telltale look that clearly said he’d gladly kick this guy to the curb for me.  Now there’s a man who knows how to make a woman feel taken care of.

“Her–”

“Blossom’s.”

He gave me a look, a crack in his Abercrombie facade and I grinned at him over my tumbler, a maraschino cherry between my teeth.  The new guys were always way too easy.

“Blossom’s powers are becoming Legendary.”

“Hmm.”  They had been, anyway.  Before she interrupted my meeting with my thesis advisor and I dropped her head–sans body–in the dumpster behind the chem lab on the way to lunch.

“So you see why we’d need your help to bring her down.”

“Blossom, you mean?”

He smiled, a tense, put upon smile a parent gives their obnoxious child.  I took a gulp of my drink to hide my grin.

“Yes.  Blossom.”

“Fine.”  I chugged the rest of my drink, the whiskey running as smooth and warm as his voice through my veins.  “On one condition.”  Might as well get something out of this since my thesis planning is going to be delayed–again.

“Name it.”

I gave him my best smug feline smile.  “You have to dance with me.”

He quirked an eyebrow and looked over his shoulder at the dark hardwood spot where couples swayed and leaded into each other to a slow and steady guitar riff.

“Oh no, darling, not here.”

When he showed up the next morning at Riverside Elementary School–alone and in t-shirt and jeans as instructed–I was pleasantly surprised and mentally downgraded my choice of execution from strangulation to beheading.

When he didn’t run at the sight of twenty excited nine-year-olds with their bands of plastic yellow feathers taped to the hems of their shirts, I figured he was nice enough for a poisoning.

When he joined in the circle with the other students of Mrs. Hamil’s fourth grade class and didn’t tell them that chicken nuggets were made from Big Bird, I wondered if he’d be down for a cup of tea before he died.

When he did the chicken dance across the circle from me in tandem with the entire fourth grade class of Riverside Elementary School, out on the tarmac of the bus parking lot at high noon with his Metallica t-shirt and dark jeans and black Converses, his hair pulled back into a low ponytail…

Okay, fine.  Maybe I won’t kill this one.

Yet.


Hey y’all!

Today’s prompt is satin / blossom / bar

Y’all.  I had so much fun writing this.  I had no idea where it was going to go when I started out.  I just had a general sense of the speaker and a line or two of dialogue and a pressing urge to write something since I’d skipped the last three days.  But look what happened!  A super fun piece that I’d like to do more with!

Review

I wrote this piece pretty quickly, aiming to just get it done versus any thought into its development.  It felt a bit like running to keep up with a train as it pulled out of the station.  But I really like how it turned out!  And the ending surprised me, as well as the whole “she’s a demon killer” thing but it made me laugh and I hope it made you laugh too!

If I were to change anything, I’d probably focus on developing it more.  I think I got her voice down pretty well but what you see here is all I know about the world and about this character.  Maybe I’ll expand this demon-fighting girl in other prompt responses.

Tomorrow’s prompt is road trip / sunset / wrappers

If you’d like to join me and my writing buddy, John Mastro, in our 30 Day Restart Challenge while we stretch our writing muscles before our MFA residency, just head on over to the prompt list here!

Happy writing, y’all!

 

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