This part of town always felt kind of eerie to me, somewhat less so now that I’ve actually been inside the Field at night, even if it was only the very edge, but still…

The great trees that grew from the sides of the road had been cut through the middle of their crown to let the power lines through, But the way they had grown back made it look as though the branches were holding them up, like gnarled ancient fingers raised in reverence…

The fence lay just on the other side of the street, there was something undeniably ominous about the very edge of the Field; that great swathe of forbidden wilderness and the unknown that lay within.

Here the low hum of distant winds seemed to inundate all other surrounding sounds, as if the vast unknown wilderness was imposing its dominance over the fragile and deliberate world of man.

The pot still sat on the hill where I had first seen it just a month ago, next to a copse and before the rolling grass plains that stretched onto the woods which themselves were dark beyond the first few trees.

Is that natural of all forests or is it just out here? It used to frighten me a lot to wonder about what could be hiding just those first few trunks… to a lesser extent it still does.

Kestrel had informed the populace somewhat of contractors, icons and the strange, they had always been very coy about that which lay within, going little further than confirming that it was ‘entities unnatural to this world’. What exactly that statement entailed was left to the wildest of speculations.

Sometimes an unusual anecdote or a blurry photograph of some dreadful beast will make its rounds on the Internet but most people write it off as fake, enough pieces of ‘evidence’ have been definitively proven to be hoaxes that disbelief is mostly the standard reaction.

But with the strange rendering all electrical devices inert, of course no one is able to take good pictures or videos on their phones, and even if you somehow did manage to get a hold of a non-electric camera in this day and age, the last thing you’d want to hit with a bright flash bang is some mysterious demonic beast.

It surprises me that anyone would remain so skeptical though. How is it that demonic possession, madness inducing waveforms and icons of power can appease the standards of new age logical positivists but Field dwelling monsters and pagan clans are designated pseudoscience?

Has humanity not observed enough impossible things to know better than ruling anything out?

I looked to the edge of the haunting treeline for ominous silhouettes.

No, I can't think about stuff like that!

I came out here for a reason!

I’ll show that damn thing who’s a slave!

I climbed over the fence and into the Field.

Come on, I don't need them!

I approached the pot, it was unchanged since the last time I had been here.

It had been there for at least a month now, possibly longer since that's only when I first noticed it. No one appears to have touched or tampered with it since. Unsurprising given its weight and size, but its presence here means someone did use it at some point. And I can't imagine anyone rolling a cast iron pot that big all the way up here just to boil some water. And what's more, how did they get it over the chainlink fence? Unless it was brought from the inside… no that couldn’t be right, it's nearly all wilderness out there, even if it was taken from some old shack somewhere it's still a long ways to carry…

But If it really is haunted by a demon…

No, Never mind that now.

I lit the fire beneath the cauldron.

Oh, that’s right I still need the sacrifice offering, but ‘vital material’ is so vague I could pretty much just throw in anything…

Could I not just toss in some grass clippings? Would that count as being alive? What about a fully uprooted plant?

Hmmm… maybe…

I turned over a nearby rock lying on the ground and picked up one of the earthworms writhing underneath.

Probably a more solid bet.

Sorry worm…

I tossed it into the pot along with the hair.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“alright you damn pot demon asshole whatever- I changed my mind after all, those are the ingredients you wanted so…”

There was no further sound, the water had not yet begun to boil.

“So eh…is that it or did you want me to do another rhyme?”

I'm sure there was something about a chant in that post online, but I don’t think there was anything specific about it…

“roses are red all things reserved, give that stupid bitch what she fucking deserves.”

Heh… I came up with that on the spot.

“Ahem… well I’ll just assume you got all that and that I’m not talking to myself like some kind of schizo-” my breath caught in my throat.

A sickly hand rose from the pot, its plaid, gray form; slender and elongated, unraveling from the dark fluid as though it were some kind of profane nativity.

My confidence began to seep away as it curled and uncurled its spindly fingers.

I had been so sure of myself until now, but now the reality of the situation was beginning to sink its teeth into me and I started to realize I may have crossed the line.

My whole body starting to ring, my nerves at war with themselves over whether to stand my ground or just bolt.

For a few moments there was only an agonizing silence.

Demons as we had been taught were more akin to evil spirits than anything corporeal bearing horns or wings but this thing before me was not only visible to my eyes but it had a physical shape, its form was making ripples on the surface of the water in the pot.

I don’t know what I was expecting but I did know it wasn’t this.

The hand spasmed and twisted around as if to face me, as if it had a face, as if it could see me somehow.

I was unable to see it properly in the dream but in the evening sun I could see that not only did this hand have six fingers, each one was triple jointed and moved in a way that reminded me of water weeds in a stream. What's more there were no nails on It’s fingers so they almost resembled spongy worms.

Oh god! It's real! This is really real!

Why is it just an arm?

What am I supposed to do?

I cleared my throat but no words would leave my throat.

The silence became unbearable.

“I-I- eh- h-how’s it going?” I finally croaked.

It said nothing to me, only its fingers writhed as though it were annoyed.

“W-well what do you want me to say?!”

“Nothing more is necessary, you have fulfilled your end.” its voice emanated from beneath the water though it was fully audible if slightly distorted. It carried in the air as if all my surroundings were submerged in that same fetid liquid.

“So… it worked?”

“Indeed… It is done.”

“that’s really it? Just some hair and a worm? That seems too easy?”

“You would be surprised how much in this world occurs through effortless happenstance” it flicked its wrist. “However future requests will require a more substantial sacrifice.”

“more than an earthworm?”

It said nothing,

“Aren’t demonic accords supposed to require some great and terrible cost?” I asked.

“I am not a demon as you think to know them.”

“…what did you mean by ‘as I think to know them’? Are you a demon or not?”

“Does it truly matter what exactly I am?”

“Not really I suppose, it just seems like a weirdly specific thing to say…”

“What you know of as demons, are something different to myself, perhaps had I been observed a long time ago I would have been granted that moniker instead, but the ‘lords and scholars’ of modernity with their… classifications and their lists… Would likely denominate me a separate title.”

“I see… Well, where did you come from?”

“Is it necessary for you to know that as well?”

“It's not everyday I get to chat with a… whatever you are, why would I not be curious.”

“I shall indulge your questions in regards to my services, but anything else is irrelevant.”

“Fine… what’s this curse going to do exactly?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“It better be good.”

“I’m certain you’ll be satisfied.

“if you say so…”

There was silence.

“so ach- what happens if that hair wasn’t hers…? Hypothetically of course?” I asked.

“A curse requires your inclinations towards the target to function, if you have no emotions for the owner of the hair, then nothing will happen.”

“Aye, ok that’s actually fine then… “

I cleared my throat.

“Soo… I’m not like, damned to hell now am I?” I asked tentatively.

“Do you believe in hell?”

“No…”

“Then I wouldn’t worry about it.”

…

“Is that all?” it asked.

“yes… I’ll be heading off then… see you later…”

It gave me a small gesture that might have been a wave and I reluctantly returned it as the arm slowly sank back into the pot.

It’s not going to come back to haunt me is it? But then I guess It already knew how to get into my dreams…

I wonder what it’ll do to Scarlett …? This really is her own fault for being such a bitch. It’s like precision aimed karma, rectifying a universal imbalance of justice.

As long as it can’t be traced back to me, even if nothing happens it’ll all be fine.