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arachne18 · 20 days

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A group of demon worshipping cultists mistakenly summoned an eldritch god instead of a demon.

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It wasn’t my fault. Darren told me to do it and I know what you’re gonna say. “You’re eighteen years old, Chris. You should know not to do something just because someone tells you.” Okay well for your information, he made a really good case and it was supposed to be a little one. Why summon a demon at all. Well this is where i have to come clean, Mrs. Mason. I didn’t actually study for the essay like you told me to. I know! I know. If I don’t pass this essay I’d fail, but I’m supposed to be going to college next year and I really didn’t want to disappoint anyone. Not that any of that matters, now. I’m really sorry. I wish I could fix this.

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Assigning an essay is a lot of extra work for the teacher involved. For one essay I have to read it more than once, give comments on the writing itself, correct it where needed, grade it according to my rubric and then put it in the gradebook. Add one or two existential crises about my teaching ability and the system as a whole, then multiply it by about 120- oh 144, sorry fourth period- and it actually takes a lot of time. Plus, I still have to make lesson plans, make copies, and help seniors with college admission essays. I never have time for hobbies anymore, but that's what summers are for, right?

That night was later than usual. I decide to be extra crazy and tick everything off my checklist. Help seniors, check. Make Copies, check. Lesson plan, check. I was starting on the essays, thinking about calling it a night since it was in fact night. I was staring at the turn-it-in bin, eyes glazing over, when the whole building shook. The school was a square box built in the fifties with brick walls you couldn’t stick posters to. It was used to shelter during tornadoes and fires, so the fact that something had made it tremble was not a good sign. My first thought was “bomb”. We’d gotten more than one threat over the years, but I’d heard no sound. So, earthquake? But we don’t get earthquakes. It’s Missouri. I ran out of my classroom and down the stairs, grateful that our district didn’t require us to dress up for work. The farther I went down the mustard yellow hallway the more intensely the building shook. Every other classroom was dark and empty, which I was grateful for.

As I got to the old lobby of the building where the main office and administration lived something that seemed to come from below me screamed in my ears. Reflexively , I covered my years and pushed outside, doubling over at the intensity of the sound. It was so angry, like my sister when you wake her up. I pushed myself up on my knees and then my feet. I needed to get away from the sound. I focused on the balls of my feet, pushing myself deep into the school parking lot. The sound faded with distance, but seemed to die all together. I turned back to the school and nearly fell to my knees with horror. The sky was a vortex of glowing green and purple clouds. Wind swept past me, nearly knocking me over, and seemed to follow the vortex of clouds. If I looked very closely, I could see something moving in the center of the vortex. I could catch only glimpses of it and every time I did my body tingled with fear. It was an abomination. To see it was to go a little crazy every time you did. I averted my eyes. I was crazy enough.

I fixed my eyes on the building just in time to see five students dart through the entrance. I knew they were students because I knew them on sight. Dressed in black, they always stood out even among the emo and goth kids. Most students gave the original four a wide berth and now they were doing the same with Ethan. Rage hit me like a truck. Normally, I'm very good about controlling my emotions with students. I don’t yell often and I’ve never screamed at a student, but I was off the clock.

“What the fuck did you do?”

They spun a new fear forming in their eyes. “Ms. Mason!” Ethan cried. “I… I can explain.” The original four Derrick, Josh, Tony, and George, who now go by Death, Poison, Snake and Georgie, took a giant step away from Ethan, collectively sacrificing him to me. He did offer.

“Explain this!” I pointed at the eldridge abomination above us. My hands were gesturing frantically. I think I was trying to keep myself from strangling him. “Are you kidding? No, actually. Go ahead. I’d looove to hear this.” I crossed my arms and waited. There was a heart beat of silence, as if he didn’t believe that I was actually going to let him explain.

“I know it looks bad.” I must have made a god-awful face because he tried to course correct. “But it wasn’t my fault. Derrick told me to do it.”

“That is not my name!” Derrick with the black hood and the cheap eyebrow piercing stepped toward us.

“Shut up, Derrick!” I snapped. He flinched back into his group of friends. I turned back to Ethan. “Are you kidding? That’s first grade logic. What grade are you in?”

He looked down at his shoes. He never looked so young. “I’m a senior-”

“Are you? Because I don’t see any other seniors summoning a god do you?”

He looked at me confused. “It was supposed to be just a little demon.”

“‘I only hit him once.’ This is where we’re at, Ethan!” My head throbbed with sleep and dehydration and the ringing of my own shouts in my head. I rubbed my face. “Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“The thing you used to summon, the thing that’s trying to kill us.” I wasn’t even yelling anymore. I sounded disappointed, even to me.

Ethan looked confused. “What are you gonna-? How-”

“Ethan,” it was the most calm I had been since it started. “Do you want everyone you know and love to die?”

He looked bewildered, then shook his head.

“Then answer the question.” His eyes wilden, then he looked to the four. They reflected his nervous expression then looked at the school. Something seemed to die in Ethan as he turned back to me. “Its.. in the basement. I’m sorry.”

I inhaled deeply counting, then exhaled. “Okay, here’s what I want you to do. Go as far as you can away from her. Go home actually. Get some sleep. You boys have school tomorrow. Everything will be fine.”

Ethan looked shocked. “But-”

“Get out of here before I write you up.” I brushed past them and headed back into the school building.

We all did crazy things in college. Some teachers have embarrassing pictures of them on the internet doing a keg stand or have stories about “accidentally” setting the Greek house on fire, but my college life was a little different. I have a degree in Secondary Education, but my minor is in folklore. I thought that maybe one day I’d be a professor, but once you start digging into certain things you can’t stop. At some point it just becomes an all consuming need for knowledge and ability. Call it the ultimate hyperfixation.

Even as chaos raged outside, the school remained a fortress against the wind. It was oddly comforting. The basement was deep in the heart of the school. I had to get down several dubious looking flights of stairs before I came to the door. I could tell it was the place not by any sign, the place was pitch dark, but by the signature purple and green glow emanating from the cracks in the door. I opened the door with less caution than I should have. Walking through like I need to get some extra paper towels instead of banish an eldritch god. The room was small. The hot water heater sat in one corner, unmoving, but everything else was flying around in the vortex. Toilet paper, cleaning supplies, mops, brooms, in addition to the candles, spray paint, and book the boys used to summon the god all bathed in neon green and a glowing purple. The vortex flowed out of the hole they’d created with the spray paint. They are so cleaning that up. The wind was not nearly as strong here. I snapped the book out of the air and flipped through the pages trying to find the right one.

“Ah, Ms. Mason,” a voice whispered from the hole. “It’s good to see you again. Adulthood suits you so well.” I ignored it. “Remember the good old days, when you and I would… collaborate.” He waited for a response. I gave none. “Oh, if only we could relive those good old days. It would make me so-”

“Ah-ha! Here it is.” I cleared my throat and recited the spell that meant to send him back down into his hole.

The god growled angrily and screamed again. I covered my ears. I’m gonna need a hearing aid after all this. The hole closed slowly, its neon glow fading with it until I was left alone in the darkness. My body collapsed under the weight of my own exhaustion. I wanted nothing more than my bed and endless amounts of sleep. I forced myself to stand and march up the long expanse of stairs. It felt like an eternity, but I finally made it to the parking lot. I didn’t even bother collecting my stuff from my class. It would be there tomorrow.

I approached my car ready to collapse in my seat. Maybe I could call in tomorrow. No, if I told the boys to go to school I should. Be a good example and all. I pulled open the door when I heard a voice. “Ms. Mason?” I whirled around. There’s no way I’m getting killed by some random punk now. Ethan flinched and raised his hands in surrender.

“Ethan, what are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t leave. It felt wrong.”

“Oh… where are your friends?”

“They aren’t my friends.” He sounded angry.

“Oh, well. You’re better off. In any case, it’s fine now. You should go home.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he turned to leave, looking dejected. Curiosity got the better of me.

“Ethan,” he turned. “Honest time. What were you thinking?”

He flushed embarrassed. “I thought if I summoned a small demon. It could help me pass. I’m failing out of your class.”

“Why didn’t you come to me? I tutor kids all the time-”

“I don’t know! I was embarrassed. I’ve never needed help before and I just… I’m sorry.”

I sighed. “Come to my class early in the morning. We’ll do our best to fix it.”

“Wait really! I kinda thought you were gonna skin me.”

“You fail senior year and I still might, but I’ll help you. It’s what I’m here for. Do you need a ride home?”

He beamed with excitement. “I live next door. I promise I won't let you down. Thank you!” He ran off disappearing into the night. I can sleep on the weekend. The kids need me right now. I got in my car and drove home.

#creative writing #writing prompt #my writing #writerscommunity

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arachne18 · 2 months

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"The best thing we can do with power is give it away" - On the leftist critique of superhero narratives as authoritarian power fantasies:

The ongoing "Jason Todd is a cop" debate has reminded me of a brilliant brief image essay by Joey deVilla. [EDIT: I SCREWED UP! This was created in 2019 by the guy who runs the Midnighter-Core page on Facebook, and Joey just reposted it!]

So here it is, images first and the full essay text below:

"A common leftist critique of superhero comics is that they are inherently anti-collectivist, being about small groups of individuals who hold all the power, and the wisdom to wield that power. I don’t disagree with this reading. I don’t think it’s inaccurate. Superheroes are their own ruling class, the concept of the übermensch writ large. But it’s a sterile reading. It examines superhero comics as a cold text, and ignores something that I believe is fundamental, especially to superhero storytelling: the way people engage with text. Not what it says, but how it is read. The average comic reader doesn’t fantasize about being a civilian in a world of superheroes, they fantasize about being a superhero. One could charitably chalk this up to a lust for power, except for one fact… The fantasy is almost always the act of helping people. Helping the vulnerable, with no reward promised in return. Being a century into the genre, we’ve seen countless subversions and deconstructions of the story. But at its core, the superhero myth is about using the gifts you’ve been given to enrich the people around you, never asking for payment, never advancing an ulterior motive. We should (and do) spend time nitpicking these fantasies, examining their unintended consequences, their hypocrisies. But it’s worth acknowledging that the most eduring childhood fantasy of the last hundred years hasn’t been to become rich. Superheroes come from every class (don’t let the MCU fool you). The most enduring fantasy is to become powerful enough to take the weak under your own wing. To give, without needing to take. So yes, the superhero myth, as a text, isn’t collectivist. But that’s not why we keep coming back to it. That’s not why children read it. We keep coming back to it to learn one simple lesson… The best thing we can do with power IS GIVE IT AWAY." - Joey deVilla, 2021 https://www.joeydevilla.com/2021/07/04/happy-independence-day-superhero-style/

- Midnighter-Core, 2019

https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=pfbid0bU6TrKdX6QgMLnUFk64jResHMVwiSyENASvJk7efasgZ94G4c81XJCVgGcLFPgPsl&id=594855544368212&mibextid=Nif5oz

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