Trumpet

“Let’s go into the woods and have a séance.”

“Let’s not.”

“We should call him.”

Despite the prospect of forbidden events taking place, the earth sits still, enwreathed by trees, stars and shadows. A cold gust bellows a warning that the girls do not understand. But the wildlife know its meaning. They clear the area, leaving no trace. Chipmunks skitter through the bushes. Deer bound through the trees. They want no part of any evil deeds.

We should’ve listened. None of the others know anything about the consequences of conjuring spirits. None of them know that the seed they’re about to plant will sprout something unholy. There’s no way to be sure who you’re calling. Yet the five of us sit, hands bathed in dirt, as we harvest a demon.

They think they know who they’re calling, but the severity escapes them. They don’t know how the other world can be. How harsh their rules are, and how loyal they are to their king. They simply want to see if they can do it. Something so trivial could end our world. Maybe, though, that wouldn’t be so bad.

“We all have to hold hands.”

“I really don’t want to do this.” Blissfully unaware, they giggle and whisper to each other.

The leader of the group sounds off, beginning the ritual. Following her, all the other girls blithely chime in. Nature breathes onto our faces and through our hair as they speak their incantations. Reluctantly, I join them.

The sky begins to bleed and the stars turn ink-black. Our chests ache. Our bones rattle. The sky shades us red, but we keep chanting. The atmosphere grows heavy. The sudden hush weighs us down. Gone are the woodland creatures; gone is the musical score of the wind, the trees and the leaves. An ancient crypt couldn’t hold a candle to this silence. Is it really okay to let this happen?

She who chants the loudest, and with the most fervor, probably knows the least out of all of us. None of them know what may be unleashed. The world’s only hope lies in the failure of this summoning. He’s coming.

He possesses her first.

“Do you know who I am?” His voice is not of this world. It booms. It shakes the ground and cracks the sky. But we understand him. We witness her body being taken over, and fear snatches our voices away. What did we expect?

“Trumpet,” we reply.

“Who?”

“Trumpet.”

“Who?”

“Trumpet.”

Her mouth is too small to hold his smile. His sharp-toothed grin stretches it wide, tearing it at the sides. The other girls find themselves unable to speak. Maybe part of them didn’t believe that this would work, that we would actually summon anything. I should’ve told them just how real this actually is. How fickle demons are. I can’t let him stay.

“Please, go away,” I plead. “I’ll send you back!”

“Fool. You think you know how?” Trumpet growls through his grotesque smile.

“Yes.”

Trumpet gnashes his teeth.

“Seed.” I whimper an incantation.

He puffs out his chest.

“Seed,” I say, with fearful determination.

He blows smoke from his nose.

“Seed,” I repeat, with faux confidence.

Each girl gasps, one by one, as he passes counterclockwise through them. Their chests heave violently; their throats are sliced open by their sharp gasps. Their blood stains the grass.

And then he makes it to me. I fear our incantation was far too weak. I’m going to die.

Gasping, I jolt upright in my bed, drenched in sweat. As I struggle to catch my breath, the realization sinks in. It was just a dream. A nightmare. But it felt real.

I lower my hand to my side, resting, when my breath stops. Something feels gritty in my hand. My bed is littered with dirt and stray blades of grass.

A dark voice runs through my head. “I’ll never leave.”

The hairs on my arms stand at attention, goosebumps marching down my spine. I think my heart might have stopped.

“Ha! You can’t write me off as a mere figment of imagination.”

I’m sure now: what happened in the woods was real. It’s Trumpet. No imagination could conjure up an abomination such as he. The other girls were stupid, but I even more so, sitting idly by while they summoned a demon.

“Are you ready?” he asks. “I do hope you’re prepared.” I can feel his grin.

“Please,” I whisper. “I don’t want to die. I know about your king, demon.”

“Demon?! You know nothing! I am the seventh! The final horn sent from the most high to pass judgment!” Trumpet booms. “You, human. You’ve called me here ahead of my brothers. You have brought the end upon your world sooner than planned. And it is you who will reap what has been sown.”