We talked about it for a while, coming up with the typical list of teenage boy daydreams: women, cars, money, power.
By the end of the afternoon, when Craig went home, I'm sure he had forgotten about the whole thing, since we'd soon stopped talking about it, and moved on to some other matter - how much Mrs. Tate's class sucked or whether we'd be getting summer jobs this year.
But I hadn't forgotten. The idea of getting the Devil to grant me my wishes, to give me power beyond my wildest dreams, just for trading my immortal soul? That idea stuck with me.
I spent a few weeks doing some research. First at the library, when I should have been focusing on my English report on Moby Dick, I was perusing all the books I could locate on the Occult. Most of it seemed childish, but I found bits and pieces that rang true.
Before I'd exhausted all the resources at the library, I turned to the Internet. What a boon that was! The amount of garbage was exponentially larger, but so, too, was the amount of real information.
Even now, I can't really explain how I knew what was 'true' and what was nonsense. I simply had an instinctual reaction to all things paranormal. An inner voice that seemed to guide me toward what would be beneficial, and steer me away from anything that was a waste of time.
A couple of chatrooms and several hundred websites later, I had managed to secure enough materials and information to perform a real summoning. Of course, I would need a partner to assist me. It was time to see if Craig remembered the idea, and if he was interested in putting it to the test.
As we set up to perform the ritual, I remember falling into a sort of trance. I wonder now whether it had already taken place. If the demon was already in charge, and was just pulling strings. And if that's the case, just how long had it been controlling things? From the very first time that I logged onto DarkForces.net? From the first time Craig and I talked about it? From my birth? Have I always been a pawn?
Regardless, much of the Summoning Ritual went down in a haze, where neither of us spoke, but worked together, as though we were one mind.
The ritual was pretty complex. We were performing it in my basement, on a night of a New Moon (I was surpised to discover that moon phases do, in fact, play a role in magic and demonology, but that it is not the Full Moon that has most influence. At least not for the spell we were going to attempt). Craig was spending the night at my house, and my parents had already gone to sleep for the night.
We lit the candles, and drew the pentagram, the endless knot, seven infinities, and several other arcane symbols. There was a large wooden ankh hanging over the middle of the room, secured by some twine that Craig had procured from his father's camping supplies. The rest of the materials [the ankh, the candles, the incense, the books, etc] I had either ordered online during the previous week, or had crudely made when I should have been working on my school work.
After everything was set up, it was time to get down to business and do the chant.We inverted a few crosses, burned some incense, and sat facing each other.
As I sat there and began the Summoning chant (from memory, even!) with my eyes closed, I could sense that Craig's demeanor had changed. I cracked my left eye open - while still chanting - and saw that Craig was stifling laughter.
I stopped the recitation, opened my eyes, stood up. "Is this a joke to you?" I asked, surprising myself at how much anger was in my voice.
Craig opened his eyes and looked taken aback at my tone. "No...dude, come on, though. I mean..."
I glared at him, daring him to continue his thought, but he could tell that I was not going to be won over by whatever he was going to say. "Sorry," he concluded quietly.
I softened my tone and said, "That's alright. I shouldn't've gotten so angry. It's just that we've come this far. We might as well go the rest of the way."
I sat back down. "Are you going to be able to handle this?" I asked.
If only Craig had said, "No" at that time. Or better yet, "You're out of your mind, Anthony." Or just gone home. Things would've been much different. But instead, whether it was under his own power or not, he smirked and said, "Let's raise some hell."
I completed my part of the chant, and Craig completed his. As the last words of the spell were spoken aloud, we sat there in silence for 10 seconds. Twenty.
Nothing happened.
We both opened our eyes and looked at each other in puzzlement.
"Did we say it wrong?" Craig asked.
"No," I said, somewhat bitterly. "We followed the directions precisely. Nothing happened because this is all fake. I should've known. There's no such thing as demons or de..."
I didn't get a chance to complete my rant, because the twine holding the wooden ankh snapped, and ten pounds of symbolism came crashing down onto my head.
"OhgodOhgodOhgod."
As I groggily came to, all I could hear was Craig chanting those two words repeatedly.
MY head was sore as hell, and my vision was doubled, as I could've sworn I saw two Craigs standing over me. Although one of them looked ...different somehow. I blinked, and there was only one Craig.
I moved my hand to the back of my head, and felt a good sized bump already forming. Craig offered me his hand to help me up. "Are.. are you okay?"
"Yeah. I.. yeah. Ow. I'm okay. What happened?" It was difficult for me to get a real grasp on my surroundings for those first few minutes.
Craig explained what had went down - how the giant cross had fallen and conked me on the head, knocking me out for probably only 10 seconds, but what felt to him like an eternity. "Weird timing" was mentioned. I swear I heard a chuckle at the time, but dismissed it due to my near concussion.
We cleaned up the mess of the ritual, more or less as quietly as we had set it up. I was irate at the fact that the past month or so, along with the thirty bucks I'd spent on the wooden cross that could've killed me, had been a waste. Although as I thought about it, the story seemed pretty good. The fact that the ankh had fallen right after the incantation made for a good tale, and I figured once my ego (and bruise) had healed a bit, Craig and I would get a lot of mileage out of the telling of it.
After everything was cleaned up, we went to go to sleep. Craig asked me again if I was okay. I confirmed that I was, and darkness took me into a dreamless night.
The next afternoon, after Craig left, was when it showed up.
I was preparing to mow the lawn. I had gone into the shed to retrieve the mower, and it was in there, waiting. I slid open the shed door and was greeted with a voice that was recognizably inhuman, "Master. You have summoned the mighty Bocal-Sha. What is your desire?"
