Eldritch Sleepover

“Did you get it?” Tommy asked, his eyes bulging with excitement. Michael looked
between his two friends, a smug smile spread across his face.

“You didn’t get it,” Andy said, ever doubtful. “No way you got it.”

“Shut up. Mikey wouldn’t lie,” Tommy barked, his tongue lisping on the word “shut.” 

Andy pushed Tommy’s shoulder, “You shut up, brace face.” 

“Screw you, jerk.” Tommy pushed back. Soon the two boys found themselves grabbing at each other’s shoulders. They wrestled around in Michael’s bedroom, bumping into a dresser lined with toys on the top. Michael watched as a Lego Mandalorian ship that took him and his dad a whole week to build almost came clattering to the ground.

“Guys,” Michael said forcefully, “Mom said if you two can’t keep your cool anymore, then you won’t be able to come over again.” 

Andy had Tommy in a headlock, about to give his bright yellow hair a hard noogie, but the seriousness of Michael’s voice caused him to let Tommy go. “Sorry, Michael,” they said, their eyes staring at the floor. Michael couldn’t hold a serious expression for long.

“I got it.” Bringing his hands from behind his back, he revealed a large book.

The book was bound in black leather with a blank cover. Its pages were weathered and yellow, as old books sometimes become. Michael felt the weight of it, heavier than the Bibles they had at church.

It gave off a musky smell, like that of an old antique shop his mom sometimes dragged him to. An oily residue came off it and clung to his fingers as though he were holding a dirty rag. 

 “Woah,” Tommy said, his jaw almost hitting the floor in excitement, “How did you get it?” 

“Saved up for five months, allowance and birthday money.” The book had not been cheap. A price of $375, shocking the boys when they first heard it. They had been able to negotiate down to $325, something they were proud of. Still too large for any of them to spend when there were video games to buy and movies to watch.

Yet Michael had persisted. Being the most curious of the three when it came to their foray into the supernatural the past year. Ever since he had started watching those ghost hunter channels on Youtube, all he ever wanted was to find something truly paranormal.

When the shopkeeper, a Mr. Huppe, told them what the book could do. Detailing strict instructions on contacting the other side and casting spells, Michael found his curiosity peaked.

“This book contains wisdom and knowledge of the ancient Sumerian mystics, Babylon devil worshiper. As well as countless other cultures that are now lost to us from around the world. And now, I have the luxury of deciding who receives it next.” Mr. Huppe had said, his handlebar mustache curling with his smile.

Michael wasn’t sure what a Sumerian mystic was or even who Babylon was, but he knew one thing. He and his friends were gonna get that book.

He also knew that Andy would never try to save for the book. He had treated the whole thing as more of a novelty, like a hobby to engage in and throw away when bored. 

Tommy, well, Tommy just liked to be a part of things. Whatever Michael was interested in, he would generally follow along, happy enough but perhaps not fully understanding. It was solely up to himself. 

“Have you read it yet?” Tommy asked. 

“I was waiting for tonight, so we all could do it.” This was partly true, but what was also true was that he had been a little nervous ever since buying it.

Mr. Huppe had been more serious than previous times, like when they bought an Ouija board. Or those candles that could summon the dead. Neither of which did anything. He was always so willing to sell to the “junior Ghostbusters,” as he liked to call them. But this time, he seemed hesitant. It took a little egging on the part of Michael to convince him to sell it. 
“Alright, but you must take this seriously and patiently. This is a significant book, not many like it,” he had said, stuffing Michael’s money into his antique register. 

Buying the book was one thing. Hiding it from his parents was another. Fearing questions of cost and reasons for buying it, he stuffed the book away, deep in his clothes dresser. It would be a month after he bought it until he’d be able to show it to his friends. The whole time it was like he could hear the book calling out to him in excitement from the bottom of his underwear drawer. Pleading with him to open it and read it. But he had stood strong, knowing he wanted to share the experience with his friend. What better place than the slumber party to celebrate their graduation from grade 5. 

Now that the time had come, the excitement tingled through his fingers as though the book was humming. He even saw looks of excitement on his friends’ faces. Andy’s large brown eyes hadn’t left the book since he saw it.

“Let me read it,” Tommy spit out.  

“You’re not going to hold it, shit breath. You’ll drool over it with that thing in your mouth,” Andy said. 

“Shut up, Andy; you probably won’t even need braces. The doctor will have to cover up your face with a bag cause of how ugly you are.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Guys, this is my book. I’m going to read it first.” 

The two stopped their name calling each other. Excitement over the book trumped any desire to one up the other over insults. 

Michael walked over to his bedroom window. The sun was still high in the sky, bathing his room. Outside neighbourhood kids biked up and down the peaceful suburban streets. He shut the window, quieting the outdoor noise and closed the colourful blinds to block the sun.
He placed the book on the carpeted floor. The three sat around it, forming a circle. Michael lifted the leather covering to the centre of the book, revealing an unreadable text to their eyes. There were no words, just images that looked like they belonged in a geometry class. To Michael, it was similar to those hieroglyphs he learned about in history class. 

“What’s it say?” Andy asked. 

“I don’t know,” Michael said.  

“Well, what good is a book we can’t even read?”

He ignored this indignant comment and continued flipping. He flipped through the pages and found nothing he could discern. 

“Come on Mikey, how do we read it?” Tommy asked. 

“I don’t know,” he said again, this time more curtly. A knot started to form in his stomach. All the excitement and hope they had for this night was fading before they even began.

 If that happened, the guys might not want to do any more paranormal stuff again. Let alone the money that he would have wasted on the book that he could have bought a new iPhone. 

He flipped through the pages again. There was something off about the front of the book. The very first page had a weight to it, not like the others. He opened up to the front and saw the reason for the difference. A small hole in the centre of the first page contained a silver shape. 

The shape appeared to be three circles overlapping in the centre. The middle of it imprinted into the book, leaving space for something to fit.

He ran his finger across the metallic circles. It showed no rust and had a clear shine to it. He put his index finger into the small pore of the book, fitting it perfectly. As soon as he did, a sharp sting attacked Michael’s finger as though the book had bitten him.

“Ouch,” he reeled his finger back, nursing it in his other hand. 

“What happened?” asked Andy. 

“I don’t know. I think I cut myself on that metal piece.” A small trickle of blood started leaking from his finger. It had already stained the book’s pages, while a small pool of blood filled the metallic rings. 

“Looks like the only spell you’re gonna get from this book is a spell on how to get a disease,” Andy said, chuckling.

 He didn’t respond, his eyes fixated on the book. The blood in the centre had disappeared. As though it had drained into the book’s pages like someone pulling a water plug in a bathtub. As the blood disappeared, the pages turned from old yellow to dull red. 

“Woah,” the boys said in unison. 

That wasn’t the end of the astonishment. As Michael glanced through the pages of the book again, he noticed new letters had started to appear. 

What looked to be English words, or close enough to make out some sounds. No discernable phrases, as far as Michael could tell, yet close to something he could recognize. 

The boys were silent, their faces mashed with excitement, interest and a little fear. 
“You gonna read it, Mikey?” Tommy asked. 

“Ooh, before you do,” Andy said, getting up. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through it. He placed it down, and spooky music started to play through its speaker. Similar to those old black and white horror movies, Michael’s dad sometimes made him watch. 

“Sorry, gotta get the vibe right, or the ghost won’t come,” he said, reclaiming his spot. This was a common thing for him to do. Doing this seemed to help Andy distance himself from their supernatural exploits. As though he wasn’t fully a part of it and was only along for a joke. 

While there remained no eligible words in the main body, the title’s produced something different.

At the top of every page, in bright red colour, was the name of several different spells. He skimmed through, reading them out loud as he did. “Summon a Dead Relative, Enter the Dreamlands, Swap Consciousness (Animal or Human), Summoning and Binding to an Elder God.” 

“Oh, that one, that one,” Tommy said, tapping the page, “We could bind an elder god to our will, whatever those are.” 

“That sounds awesome,” Andy concurred. 

Michael, happy the two weren’t arguing about it, agreed. “Ok, let’s do it,” he said as he first read over the words in his head, then began speaking. 

The words came out harsh and clunky, each syllable like an animalistic noise rather than anything comprehensible.

As he continued, though, the rhythm of his words started to blend and form into one another. While he didn’t understand their meaning, he could utter it with increasing confidence, using Andy’s music to help his cadence. 

That made it even more jarring when the song ended midway through the page and started playing an ad for some game.

“Sorry,” Andy said as he bolted to his phone. He turned it off and rejoined them. 

Michael shot him a dirty look but continued. Or at least tried to. He uttered a few more words until his front door suddenly opened. 

Michael and Andy gasped while Tommy let out a scream. Michael was sure, just for a second, that some horrid monster would come through. Perhaps a shadow creature or even a witch. 

“Mom says you little shits are being too noisy.” Said the shape of his older sister, leaning on the door frame. “Says I can dump a bucket of water on you if you keep it up.” 

She was only half paying attention to the boys when she entered, but when she saw the three boys in a circle with an ugly looking book, her face lit up. 

“What are you dorks doing? Playing ghost hunter again?” she laughed. 

“Just leave, Amber. Tell Mom we’ll be quiet but don’t bug us.” 

“Whatever, loser. You guys aren’t even doing it right. You get that book from that same creepy guy? You know he tried to sell my friend Tamara a rock. Had the spirit of a great warrior or something stupid like that,” she sneered at them, “That guy will do anything for a buck.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Whatever.” She said, rolling her eyes and returning to her phone. “Just make sure you nerds shut up.” She started to leave, closing the door behind her. Yet not before turning off the lights, submerging the room in darkness. With a cackle, she walked away. Perhaps his sister was a witch or something similarly evil.

Deep down, though, he knew his sister was right. Mr. Huppe was a nice man but an aggressive salesperson. There were never that many people in the store whenever Michael visited. Mr. Huppe would always try to upsell when the three of them came. A special crucifix to ward off vampires or a new magical elixir could be added to the purchase. Even at his young age, Michael suspected the demand for an occult store in suburban Toronto wasn’t high.  

 Michael sighed and got up to turn the lights back on. However, as he stood up, he noticed the lettering in the books gave a red glow to it, to the point where he could still read. 
A second “Woah” came from the boys in unison, and Michael continued from where he left off.

Finding his rhythm quickly. He finished the indication with a sound that sounded more like a cough from a sick person rather than a word and….nothing. 

The boys looked around. No flash of light, no god telling them that it was now at the three boys bidding. Just the same blue painted walls with Spiderman posters hanging. 

“Well, glad it wasn’t my $325 wasted,” Andy said. 

“Tommy, can you turn the lights back on,” Michael said, sadness tinging his voice. 

“Sure thing,” Tommy got up, flicked the lights, flicked it again, but they wouldn’t turn on. 
“Think your bulb’s dead, Mikey.” 

Michael sighed again, “Hang on, I’ll open the curtain.” He walked over to his window and pulled them back.  

It was dark outside. An unusual blackness filled his vision. He looked at the scene, puzzled. It was only 6 pm the last time he checked, and there should be light right at the start of summer. Not this inky blackness, as though a veil was over the house.

All three boys turned towards the door as a scream filled their ears. It came from down the hallway. Michael’s heart was pounding, pulsating all the way up into his brain. 

“Wh-what was that?” Andy stammered. Neither boy responded, simply stood looking at the door.

Another scream occurred, followed by a crash. A quietness befell the room. Only the inconsistent breathing of the three boys could be heard. Then Tommy spoke.

“Mich-Micahel, you gotta see what that is.” 

“What? Why me?” 

“It’s your house, come on, man, it’s probably your sister pranking us.” Andy piled on.

Michael recalled the time he and his friends had tried to capture ghost voices in the basement, and his sister had turned the electricity off and put a chair to block the door. She had recorded their screams of desperation and uploaded them online to the delight of all their friends. 

He gulped, realizing he wasn’t going to get help from his friends and went to leave. Opening the door, he saw the hallway was as dark as his room. He grabbed one of the emergency flashlights his mother had put on the hallway table. Taking cautious steps forward, the floorboards creaking under his weight. Had they always done that? Surely they must have. 

“Mom, Dad?” he said, his voice trembling. He moved the flashlight around to see nobody. 

“Amber, if this is a joke, it’s not funny!” He walked up to his sister’s room, its door partly ajar. He pushed it open, “Amber, where are you?”

The room felt off. It had a weird smell that reminded him of when he broke his nose skateboarding. The odour hung in the air, seeping into his mouth. It was like little fine particles of metal were hovering all around him. 

He walked to the other side of the room and looked out the window again. His sister had let it open, and now a thick fog was coming in from outdoors. He stuck his head out the window. The darkness and the deafening quiet that had overcome the neighbourhood was disturbing. There were no cars, no more kids playing, no yard work, only silence. 

He turned his head to see movement. It was hard to tell, but it looked like something was moving. Something attached to the house was slinking around all corners of the house, surrounding it like a vine scarcely discernible only by how it parted the mist, moving ever closer to him.  

He slammed the window and left the room. 

“Mom, Dad, where are you guys?” he asked the empty space, his voice quivering. 
As though responding, a creaking noise came from downstairs. 

He carefully walked towards the noise, taking one step down and holding tightly onto the handrail, trying to discern any shapes in the dark. 

“Mom, Dad,” he called out again. 

He made his way downstairs and walked through the first floor, but he could not find either parent or hear them.

“They went out,” he told himself, “Me, Tommy and Andy were being too noisy, so they went out.” A plausible excuse, but his parents always stayed around when he had his friends over. 

He opened the door, shining the flashlight across the exterior illuminating nothing. He made to take a step outside, putting his right foot out. With no shoes on, he could feel the coldness of the area, like a late October night. The coldness spread through his body, numbing him. 

Hesitantly, he stuck his foot out even more, hoping to find the stone step at the base of the door. Yet all his foot found was air. Suddenly, he could feel his weight come forward, like when walking down a set of stairs, expecting one final step only to find it was not there.
He wavered back and forth, trying to keep his balance and not tip over. He grabbed both sides of the door frame, losing his flashlight in the process, as it hit the bottom of the door, then tumbled down. 

Michael watched in horror as the flashlight didn’t roll onto the bottom stone step. Instead, it kept falling as though he dropped it from some great height. The beam of light illuminated no ground, only more fog for several seconds until it was completely smothered. 

He looked at where the flashlight disappeared, shocked. Had they been transported to the top of some mountain? Then why all the darkness? A cacophony of thoughts swirled around until great noise came from above him. Like an aeroplane passing overhead but much closer. Michael looked up. A shape was coming over the top of him.

Massive in stature, taller than the house. Maybe even three times the height, but oval-shaped and thin. Like a dying star, it emitted its own red glow, which punched through the foggy blackness. Its skin was black, if skin was the right word for it. From that skin, long black tentacles floated all around it, uncountable in number, like the hair on top of someone’s head. 

The shape moved over and in front of him. Hovering some distance away. Something in Michael’s brain started to give, like staring into a black hole that was sucking all the sanity away from him. Perhaps later, he would tell someone that what he had seen was beyond description. For now, though, his brain was too able to process what was in front of him. 

 Three eyes stared back at him, stacked on top of each other, the middle one being the size of a truck. They blinked, and a wet slapping noise echoed through the void when they did. 
The pupils, themselves a velvety black in a sea of white, focused on him, and something in the back of his mind went away. His breath quickened, and his throat dried. “No, no, no, no,” his brain screamed. “That’s not real, that’s not there, it can’t be there. I must be going crazy.” 

More of those long black hairs, more than he originally thought, an impossible amount, emerged from all around the oval monster. They were making their way toward him and surrounding him. He could see in the glow of the monster that there were more black vines on this side of the house too. They, too, were getting closer. What if the blackness that surrounded this house was not the darkness that had befallen them? Instead, what if it was the being’s appendages wrapping around, encompassing everything. Blocking out all external light in an infinite stream of its sinewy darkness.

He had to ignore this thought as he reeled himself backwards, collapsing on his backside in a breathless whimper. 

None of it had ever been true, nothing they had ever done before had worked, but now they were god knows where with that thing out there. 

 Warm tears started to run down his cheek as the helplessness set in. He wanted to stay there for as long as it took for him to wake up from this obvious nightmare.

He would have done that if not for the blood-curdling scream from upstairs. In the chaos of what he saw, he had completely forgotten about Tommy and Andy, now the last two people he was in this house with.

He ran upstairs and barged open the door to find a chaotic scene.

The red glow from the book filled the room as long, black veiny ropes invaded, coming in through the walls and the windows. Though they did not break the wall, it was as though they formed around the limbs, like the house was permeable. They thrashed around, knocking posters, toys and his tv to the ground. 

“Michael, help!” Tommy screamed as one of the tentacles attached to his leg was pulling him to the window. He tugged on the carpet, trying to claw his way away, but it was too quick. 
With a violent rip, like pulling a cord on a lawnmower, the inky extremity retraced Tommy back to the wall with a loud thud. He screamed in pain. 

The window crashed open as the black arm ripped his body through. Tommy’s scream became ever more distant to Michael as his shape disappeared in the blackness, just like the flashlight.

Michael had no time to think about this as another voice cried. “Aghh, help!” 

It was Andy’s turn now. A tentacle had wrapped around his body, pulling him under the bed. He had been able to grab onto a dresser. Toys and lego scattered to the floor with a violent crash. 

Michael could see the tension in the thing’s limb as it pulled. The appendage pulsated and stretched as inky ichor dropped off it like sweat. The smell attached itself to Michael, a rotting aroma similar to meat left on a counter overnight. 

Michael lunged for his friend, grabbing onto his hand. He pulled back, drove his feet downward, and marched back, as though he were playing tug-of-war in gym class. 
For a second, it seemed like they were winning this nightmarish game. That was until a whooshing noise came from the broken opening. 

What appeared was a giant white disk with a black centre that expanded and contracted. It looked at them, and Michael could make out suspicion in its glance. Confusion over what was taking so long. The eye narrowed on Michael, and he was sure his heart would stop simply by the creature’s gaze.

His whole body started sweating, and his hands started to slip. 

“Don’t let go, don’t let go!” Andy bellowed, but it was too late. Michael fell backwards with a thump and heard the final screams of his friend. “Michael!” Andy screamed as the monster claimed his prize, dragging him into the darkness under the bed. 

One final “Michael!” was the last thing he heard. 

He sat there for a second, still staring at that grotesque eyeball. Now satisfied with its victory, the eye widened, then started to move away. 

Michael had no time to wonder about this as those long veins from the wall started slowly advancing on him. 

He looked at the book, now glowing brighter than ever, casting a red glow all over the room. He got to his feet, grabbed it, and ran into the bathroom connected to his room. 

“The book caused it. It can fix it.” He told himself, his voice shaky and uncertain. 

He turned through the pages, which were even more saturated, to the point they left a warm, wet imprint on his hand. Quickly he found the spell he had used. To his surprise, more wording had appeared on the page, a language he could actually read.

Warning to those that use this ritual, binding to an elder god comes at great risk with very little reward. Depending on which one accepts, one could find their body a vessel for its will, transported to its realm as its plaything, suffer permanent enslavement of the soul to madness, or any other horrible atrocity that is not yet discovered. Due to this, it is heavily discouraged to participate in such a ritual. 

He looked at the book. The slowness with which the warning had appeared almost seemed to mock him. As though it was setting him up for failure right from the beginning. He shook the book, banging it on the table. Wanting to rip its pages and curse it. Yet deep down, it was his decision to use it, his excitement, that caused him to rush through it to impress his friends with some expensive book.

Now his only hope was the book that had caused it. He turned each page, hoping against all odds that it would have a solution, perhaps a Get Rid of an Evil God and Return Your Lost Friends spell. But no such luck. The best spell he could find for his situation simply read:
Teleportation spell will not take you to a place of your choosing. The spell seems to choose at random, from places ranging to the tops of mountain ranges in Asia to the fields of Europe and even the deserts of Africa. No matter the location of the caster. From the testimony of those who have used the spell and survived to detail their stories, all locations provide at least immediate survivability in this realm of existence. Of course, testimony from those transported to other worlds, times or environments not meant for mortals would be hard to come by. 

Michael looked at those words. They were far from reassuring, but they were his best hope. He would transport himself out of here. If he survived, he would go back to the shopkeeper and demand, as much as an 11-year-old could demand of an adult, that he help him get his friends and family back. He would tell him about all the bad things that his book had caused and how it was his fault. 

He took a deep breath and started chanting the magical formula. It was similar to the previous spell. The words were hard to speak at first, but he soon found himself weaving a coherent pattern and rhyme.

Halfway through the guttural speech, something slimy touched the back of his leg. He looked down to see a tentacle protruding from the door, grabbing at his ankle. He tried to pull away, but the strength of the creature’s arm was too much. He hung onto the bathroom counter with all his strength as a second suction gripped at his other ankle and pulled. He found himself now parallel to the floor.

He screamed as the muscles in his biceps started to stretch. His eyes darted to the book. It was his last chance. He read the words as best he could. Focusing all his strength trying to pronounce it, all the time, the monster pulled and pulled. 

His voice started to stretch along with his body. As he reached the final words of the page, he screamed them in a crescendo of anger. 

All at once his body flopped onto the ground. Not the hard tile floor of a bathroom, instead, a mix of grass and dirt softened his fall. His ankles were also free of any gripping strength. Only the suction marks of the beast’s arm remained. Breathing heavily, he looked around. The sky was bright with the sun. There were trees, bright green trees in the distance that seemed to wave at him as a gentle breeze caressed his chin. The book had not come with him, something he was thankful for. 

He laughed. He couldn’t stop himself. He felt joy with each hollar. He laughed till tears started rolling down his cheek. Then the laughter started to die down, but the tears remained. Soon he found himself curled over, crying. He closed his eyes, hoping that Tommy, Andy, hell, and even Amber would come through those trees. But he knew they wouldn’t. He had to get up and find his way out of wherever he was. 

He opened his eyes to find a shroud of darkness covering him. Had he fallen asleep? Was it now nighttime? No, that couldn’t be it. He couldn’t make out the moon, and the hard, dry grass he was resting on was now cold and black. 

He got up and looked around. It wasn’t total blackness, as a familiar red glow bathed him. While the moon wasn’t there, there were three, giant white disks, stacked on top of each other, staring back at him.

It didn’t take long for the thing to find him, maybe a god like being just always knows where you are, especially if you bind to them. It was all he could do to sit there and watch as long, snake-like appendages filled his vision.

Credit: Matthew Harrison