The TV hummed in the background featuring some newscaster talking with his guest on the evening show about one nonsensical thing after the other. Light from the streetlamp across the street filtered through the dirty window into my one bedroom apartment, giving me just enough vision to put down the carton box and find the light switch.

“Okay, that was the last one” I told myself, shrugging my arms with relief. The small living room was filled with boxes, the only exception was a counter near the wall on which the TV stood on and a small dining table with 2 chairs. I walked to the other side of to get to the kitchenette, where on the counter I placed the groceries I bought this morning and didn’t have the time to put them in the fridge.

‘This place isn’t so bad’ I thought while grabbing a can of soda. Walking to the window and peering outside, I watched the flickering lights on the not so distant skyscrapers, filling the city’s skyline ‘The city is quite nice too’. After finishing the soda and throwing it into the plastic bag I looked at the surrounding me boxes and started to unpack them.

The rent for the apartment in the outer part of the city was cheap enough I could last for 2 more months on what money I got from my foster home after finishing highschool and being deemed ‘adult enough’ to start caring for myself. There were no sappy farewells, we have talked about this moment for several months. After being in their care for last three years after my family’s car accident I was thankful for their care and what resources they have given me to start a new life.

As it happened, I decided to move to the biggest city in the country, Velkinia, said to be the city that never sleeps. Perhaps it was an attempt to not reopen the already healed wounds left after losing my parents, maybe it was a choice motivated by all the films and books I’ve watched and read over the years, all that -Leave behind the past, start in a new place- crap. Who knows?

As the last glass landed in its intended counter, I tiredly leered at the remaining boxes full of new furniture for the apartment. Walking to the bathroom door, I opened it and checked the inside. Toilet paper, check. Towel, check. Teeth brush, check. Toiletries, check. Closing the bathroom and opening the neighbouring door to the sleeping room, I prepared the mental check list. Mattress, check. Blanket, check. Deciding it was enough unpacking for one day, I started preparing dinner in the kitchen space.

Quickly enough, two sandwiches were made and brought to the table. Then I reached to the freezer to get the real treat I got myself this morning : The albatross, 40% middle-shelf priced vodka. Certainly not the first alcohol I ever tasted, what with the nightly escapades with classmates and friends, and certainly not the last. Fishing out the chilled bottle and a shot glass, also bringing ketchup and a sausage from the fridge and a knife from one of the drawers, I sat at the table. Turning off the TV, I felt sombre, as I thought about the past and the unknown future.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The electric clock on the oven showed exactly 20:08 as I put ketchup on my sandwich and snapped to 20:09 exactly as I finished applying it.

Suddenly, a dark figure appeared crouching on the other side of the table. A sudden feeling of doom came over me as it stood up to its full height, a clearly male pale face contrasting with the dark clothes, horns poking through the slicked back dark hai-

Wait, horns?

‘Oh shit’ was the only thought in my mind, wildly bouncing from one side of my skull to the other, as my body was locked in place. As I looked into the (Demon? Devils?) glowing yellow eyes, my mind reverted into its most ingrained instinct.

It was as if I was an outsider in my own body, looking from a different perspective, observing every detail of the situation. And then I knew what to do, what should be always done in the situation I was in.

I stockily stood up, almost robotic in my movements, as the figure observed me. I slowly moved to the kitchenette, never turning my back, and opened the counter. Taking the one object that felt right in this situation, I gradually made my way back to the table. I sat down and looked right into the smouldering eyes as I moved my trembling, still closed hand over the table.

Opening my hand, and holding the second shot glass only with my fingers I put it down on the table. I opened the bottle. Poured first the glass for the guest, then for myself. Cut sausage in half, place both halves near the glasses. Like dozens of times in my life, I said the age old saying:

“Guest in the house, prosperity in the house”

.

.

My mind reset. I was again looking through my own eyes, and there was only one thing I was thinking right now: I am actually brain dead. Now, I am going to die. I’m not going to meet some nice girl, have a kid with her, maybe eve-

The oppressive feeling was suddenly gone. My mind cleared, and I noticed a slight curl of the lips on the pale face.

A blink.

Everything was normal, there was no thing extraordinary in the room, except the second shot glass filled with liquid and a cut sausage.

Another blink.

The figure is standing on the other side of the table again, this time holding a bottle seemingly filled with melted amber. The bottle finds its place on the table. The horned man raises the glass I put for him.

*clink*

“Generous host, grateful guest” He retorted with the age old response, and we both leaned our respective glasses back and drank.

“You can call me Garius” He said, a slight smile on his face, while extending his hand. I carefully took it, watching out for the sharp nails on the end of his fingers and responded

“John.”

We both sat down. I poured the second glass. We drank.

...

“So, "He asked while taking a bite of the prepared sausage" why don’t you tell me why you summoned me, not even a containing circle in sight, no sacrifice, and with a sandwich condiment no less?”