The sound of the front door being slammed tells Alan that his roommate finally returned home from work, and considering the late hour, the other man is probably good and pissed off. Inwardly, Alan can’t help but sympathize. You only get so long on this earth, and the average person spends far too long of it sitting in an office and twiddling their thumbs.
From his bed where he was lounging without a single thought in his head, Alan stands up, avoids bashing his knee against his rickety nightstand, and crosses his small, somewhat barren bedroom in just a handful of steps. Leaning against his open doorframe, he waits patiently.
From the kitchen of the modest apartment, down the hall, and out of sight, Alan hears grumbling and the sound of someone rifling through the refrigerator. A moment later, there is the sound of a bottlecap being popped, the refrigerator door shutting, then heavy footsteps as a shadowed form makes its way down the hallway.
“Rough day, Chip?” Alan asks, crossing his arms as the other man steps under the dim light in the hallway.
Chip isn’t somebody that Alan would call a close friend, owing to the other man being nearly 15 years his senior and living with a few sets of problems that Alan isn’t going to pretend that he understands. The older man is still friendly enough, though, so long as the landmine that is his failed marriage is stepped around.
Alan made that mistake once.
Chip sighs and raises the beer in his hand, pressing the cool glass to his forehead. His workday must have been something, because the red color of his face extends all the way up to his bald head. “Same shit, different day, Alan. Same shit, different day,” he growls. “I’ve been trying to keep my department moving smoothly, today with a few proposed changes to the complaint box system, and what does my team do? They smile and agree with everything I have to say as they dig their heels in and refuse to budge an inch. I’ve about had it! They could at least not be two-faced about it!”
Alan nods along as Chip vents to him with growing spleen, though Alan is only half listening. Chip recently became an HR middle manager at some accounting firm that Alan can’t remember the name of, replacing the previous manager who was fired. The problem? Chip came from another department, and all of the current HR staff were rather incensed that none of them were selected for promotion. If Chip’s complaints aren’t over-exaggerated, then damn near everyone on his team has it out for him.
Chip’s complaints finally begin to lose steam after several minutes. He sighs once more and takes a deep swig of the bottle in his hand. “Dammit, is one easy day too much to ask for?”
“Mmm, I know the feeling,” Alan nods along, inwardly grimacing as he thinks of the workday to come tomorrow. “I’m going to have a ton of geriatrics jumping up my ass because we’re announcing the retirement of our fax lines tomorrow. I can only imagine how many calls we’re going to get.”
Chip lets out a chuckle. “I told you realty is no business for anyone with self-respect.”
“Then it’s a perfect job for me, isn’t it?” Alan rolls his eyes.
Scratching his mostly-pepper-and-some-salt beard, Chip leans against the wall, lifting a finger from around his beer bottle to point at Alan. “Your pal is one of those nutty outdoorsy guys, right? Did you see the latest ‘bigfoot’ sighting on Channel 11? Supposedly some poor guy hit a real-life Bigfoot getting off the exchange way on the north side of town. Totaled his car and everything, but they never found out what he hit.”
“Considering the entire Commonwealth is still in a state of emergency over the opioid epidemic, are you sure he didn’t hit a purple dragon instead?” Alan smirks, but under his sarcasm, he idly wonders what’s going on.
On the internet, TV news, and the occasional times he can stomach public radio during his commute, Alan has been hearing about strange happenings all over the world. Weird animals, unexplained events, and supposed cases of demonic possession, to name a few. There was, of course, speculation on if any of these incidents were connected, and why they were happening if they were real. There are the typical bozos trying to explain it all away and sound smart in the process for internet cred, while others say it’s all a distraction from something else that the people in power are up to. Many fall into the middle ground of shrugging and saying, “it is what it is,” utterly desensitized to odd occurrences by now.
There were, of course, other voices weighing in on everything, but the less said about the creeps who want to find the ‘anomalous creatures’ for sex, the better.
The weird incidents only get a few seconds of thought from Alan, who shrugs and moves on. “If you’re talking about Chase, then I’m sure he’s heard the news.” Privately, he thinks: ‘especially since Chase is in that weirdo group of ‘Cryptid Hunters’ or whatever they’re called.’
The pair of men speak for only a few more minutes, turning to more normal topics before separating. Chip polishes off his drink, and after saying good night, retires to his bedroom. Returning to his own bedroom, Alan hums to himself and wonders how to spend the rest of his Thursday night.
Considering there’s been nothing noteworthy, let alone good released on TV in… Several years at least, venturing into the living room seems pointless. A quick glance at his computer tells him that none of his relatively small circle of friends is online to talk to, so that’s a bust as well. None of his library of video games interests him at the moment, and his weed dealer is in jail again, so no smoking either. It’s also too late to go downtown for entertainment (not that he has the energy to go downtown after work anyway.)
Bereft of anything else to do, Alan sighs and falls backward onto his bed. His hand blindly gropes for his cell phone, and when he finds it, he unlocks the device and opens the browser. From there, he proceeds to wade through all of the posts and articles fed to his device by algorithms in hopes of finding something engaging to read.
After sacrificing his time at the unholy alter of the internet, Alan looks away from his phone to the window, only to blink in confusion when he finds it pitch black. “The hell?” He mumbles, narrowing his eyes. “I wasn’t doom scrolling for that long, was I?” He sits up and looks around, only to realize something else.
Not just the window is pitch black. The walls, the door, the ceiling, and the floor are all a flat, uniform black. He swears his eyes must be playing tricks on him, for it almost looks like the black surfaces are squirming or writhing. Hell, even the bed he’s lying on is swallowed by the darkness. A chill blows past his skin the longer he looks. Did he leave the window open?
Looking back down at his phone with a frown, he knows he isn’t blind because he can still see himself, but the light from the phone screen doesn’t seem to do much, if anything, for the pitch blackness around him.
‘Huh. Maybe those articles about the weird shit happening were on to something.’ Alan grunts. Once upon a time, an event like this may have been alarming, but now? ‘Maybe if I didn’t have to do a voiceover for a phone menu that literally everyone is going to skip tomorrow so they can yell at me, I would care a bit more.’ A yawn forces its way from his mouth. If he’s being honest with himself, complete darkness seems like it would make for some exquisite sleep, something he could really use. ‘Whatever. I don’t have the energy for this. I’ll just go to bed.’
After hitting the lock screen on his phone, Alan is forced to pat his bed to find his coverings, but when he does, he pulls them over himself and leans back, his head hitting his pillow. Another yawn breaks free, and once it subsides, he finds himself smiling as he settles to sleep. Maybe advocates for blackout curtains are onto something because the odd darkness makes his eyelids heavy. The slight chill in the room also contrasts nicely with the warmth of his covers, making for quite a cozy feeling. ‘Not bad…’ His smile grows as he drifts off. ‘Not bad at all…’
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“Do not dismiss me so casually, Son of Adam.” A voice both airy and guttural seems to rumble from every direction, stopping Alan just short of falling asleep. “Thou might regret such an action. Awaken, and hear mine words.”
Grunting, Alan forces an eye open. “Who the hell is…!” He bites his tongue and jumps when he looks up at the ceiling.
On the ceiling and standing out in stark contrast to the pitch blackness around it is a grinning face, and it’s not a human one, either. Two perfectly round eyes hover above a maw of sharp, animalistic teeth, which would fit better on some manner of monstrous canine than any natural creature. If the eyes and teeth are attached to a head, then the details of the head are lost in the surrounding darkness.
For a long moment, Alan and the great unknown thing stare at each other, and just before the first minute can pass, Alan scowls as his initial surprise drains away. “What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”
The thing recoils, seemingly taken aback. “Thou asks the wrong question. Should thou be not more concerned with whom he speaks?” The thing asks. Its voice is paradoxically gentle and rough at the same time, as if several people are speaking in sync. Trying to place a gender to it seems impossible. Its grin falls somewhat. “Should thou not be more concerned with potential harm upon thee?”
“Look at my face,” Alan demands, taking a hand from under the covers and pointing to himself. “Does this look like the face of someone who gives a fuck? Answer my question. What are you doing here?”
“Such vulgarity…” The thing’s grin falls further, now closer to a neutral expression. “Your lack of civility is unbecoming of you, Son of Adam.”
“You broke into my apartment and you expect me to be civil?” Alan snorts and rests his hands behind his head. “Also, what’s with this ‘Son of Adam’ thing? Are you some kind of biblical demon? If you’re expecting me to recognize you, I haven’t read the Ars Goetia or the rest of Solomon’s Key since my high school edgelord days.”
The demon hisses like a snake, bearing its fangs as it does so. “I would not be so foolish as to allow Solomon to pen mine visage or might where others may read, but if thou has read the King’s passages and understood the fell beings within, then thou should not be so cavalier before me!” Alan watches the fang-filled jaws grumble. “Thou also does not carry with him the stately countenance of a lord of ‘edge’, whatever trapping that may be.”
Alan sniffs, swiftly running out of patience. “Okay. Who are you? And answer my original question, dammit!”
The darkness within the room seems to pulsate in delight, and the supposed demon’s grin returns. “Mine is a tale ancient even to the reckonings of my kin. Twas I, the first night upon the epoch of humanity, who did teach the first children of Adam fear of the unseen, the fear of glittering fangs and watchful eyes. As man huddled around their humble fires, shivering and watching the shadows dance, I, the Primordial Darkness, was there, hounding each step, each night. From mine womb came all creatures which stalk where only the foolhardy tread. To this day, all of mankind has learned mine lessons of terror, of darkness and fangs, from his oldest of fathers. Of them-“
“Okay, okay, I get it!” Alan holds up a hand and interrupts the demon, who looks down at him, visibly affronted. “You like to hear yourself talk, don’t you? Do you have some kind of name I can call you by? I’ve just been thinking of you as it or demon in my head and it’s getting repetitive.”
The demon frowns. ‘Mine is not an address that can be uttered by a human tongue. As I have stated, I am the Primordial Darkness, Eldest and Greatest of The Unknown.”
“That’s not much of a name…” Alan mumbles. “Okay, Prim. Moving on, why are-“
“Prim?” The now-named ‘Prim’ interrupts, giving the man below a cockeyed stare.
“Look, Primordial Darkness is a mouthful. Don’t blame me when I shorten it.” Alan clicks his tongue. “And for the third time, answer my original question!”
The demon’s face falls into a scowl that some might consider bowel-loosening. Alan just finds it irritating. “Thine impudence is noted, Son of Adam, and will not be forgotten. To answer thine question, thou art simply the first human I have crossed since mine reemergence.” Prim’s voice softens, turning into something soothing and tender, too tender for a human mouth to make. “Be grateful that despite thine rude tongue, I will still grant thee an accord, if willing.”
An accord? Like, some kind of partnership or agreement? And what’s this about being the first man the demon has come across? Alan shakes his head. The tone Prim is using is the same one his ex-girlfriend would use on him whenever she wanted something. That woman was infinitely worse than any demon, and it taught him to be wary. “Okay, whatever,” he smirks. “Make my Accord the new model year, though.”
As he expected, the joke flies right over Prim’s head. “New… model year?” It asks, cocking its head. “Whatever thine jest may be, it has found no proper audience.”
“Whatever…” Alan mumbles. Deciding that the conversation is officially too troublesome to deal with, he turns and pulls his covers up to his chin. “No deal. Go away. I’ve got work in the morning and need to get to bed.”
“Oh? Would thou so readily turn away if thou knew what sorts of delights I could offer?” The voice is now coming an inch away from his ear, and he can feel chilled breath on his neck. “I am the Eldest and Greatest of The Unknown. Great and terrible powers beyond thine wildest dreams are ripe for the taking. Thou need only give something small in return.”
“Fuck off.”
Alan starts when the blankets around him seemingly squeeze him. The pressure is not enough to hurt, but certainly enough to be uncomfortable. Turning, he peers into burning white eyes only inches away from his own.
“Son of Adam,” Prim growls, the sound reverberating around the room and touching something unspeakably ancient within the pinned man. “Perhaps thou do not understand thine situation. One does not reject the Call of the Unknown, especially after such disrespect. Thou art nothing before me, and with but a flex of my will, thou will be unmade!” Prim’s jaws snap shut inches away from his face. “Understood?”
For a few seconds, Alan mulls over his options. He could try to be a kiss-ass, but that might be even less appreciated. He could take the deal, probably selling his soul and damning himself forever. Or… Fuck it.
“Will it hurt?”
Prim once more seems taken aback. “Come again?” It’s head recoils backward, seeming to merge into the wall. “Thine question sounds as if…”
“Will it hurt?” Alan repeats, his eyebrow raised. “Look, if I’m dead, then I don’t have to go to work tomorrow or deal with any other bullshit. If I’m being honest with you, I’m kind of done with this ‘being alive’ business. I don’t care enough to pull the trigger myself, but if it happens, then it happens. I can’t say that I’ll be upset either way.” He pauses. “I’d like enough time to write a letter to my mom, though. I think she’s the only one who would actually be upset if I was gone.”
Prim’s jaw drops, and the demon seems rendered speechless. “I…” It pauses, at a loss. “Son of Adam, surely that is a falsehood. Thine life, thine Divine Spark, is a gift envied by all. So precious is it, that mine kin would do anything to acquire it. Surely thou would not just… throw it away?”
The tired man can only shrug.
Prim seems to shrink on itself, the blackness on the wall writhing as if given goosebumps. Alan has to wonder what it says about him that he’s not the upset one here.
“That…” Prim finally speaks. Its voice is slow and halting, but also soft, as if wounded. “We… Are not finished with negotiations, Son of Adam.” It finally forces out. “We shall speak more in the morn, after thou have rested. I am so very confused, and proper dialogue is sorely needed.”
“Whatever…” Alan turns away again, hoping this conversation is finally over. “And the name is Alan, not ‘Son of Adam’. Talk about pretentious titles…” He closes his eyes. “Hey, can you keep the room dark? Or is that going to cost me my soul? I was damn near asleep before we started talking.”
“…That is a boon I can indeed grant freely, Alan.”
The man sighs. “Cool. Talk to you in the morning, I guess.”
A moment later, he’s dead to the world.