Writing Prompt #136 — Ikea, the Preferred Store for Demons

Prompt: Fellow demons wonder how you get summoned so much in this new age. Your secret? Your new summoning chant is based off ikea furniture names.

“Another one, seriously?” I hear Bebub shout.

“That’s the sixth one this hour!” I hear Zeb spit.

The crimson fog dissipates and I’m by Down Below, within the cavernous catacomb of our Damned Place. Black veined stalactites jut from the ceiling, dripping sizzling tar. The walls exterior waning, slowly tearing in two, revealing the endless valleys and fissures of piked damned below a rolling, fiery sky.

My Drathers sit around a flat black stone, cut from one of our outings to the Halls of Sidian.

Bebub coughs, waving his hand. Zeb tears open an Etus, a whimper echoes out, and sets it on the table as I sit.

“You ever going to tell us your secret, Oftast?” Bebub points with an elongated finger.

“Yes,” Zeb chirps, “how is that you get so many summons?”

I take a sip, feel the magna root into my shallow chest. It’s always freezing Up Above. I shake my head. “No, not yet, at least.”

Not yet? What do you mean?” Bebub says.

“Perhaps one day I’ll reveal my secrets to you two, but not anytime soon.”

“Why?” Zeb crosses his thirteen arms over the gaping hole in his chest.

“If I revealed it now, then I wouldn’t obtain the souls, now would I?” I say, grinning.

Fumes slither from Bebub’s horns. His razor teeth clench. “And what about us? We hardly get the same amount as you do in a week as you do in an hour.”

“You two are doing just fine, or the Overlord would’ve sent to you the Mines, wouldn’t he?”

They quieted. They knew I’m right, and, I would reveal my secrets to them. They’re my Drathers, after all, but it’s just too good to give up now. Such a simple thing, I discovered eons ago. I’m a demon of Many Names and each time my name’s called, I’m summoned.

I just happen to share countless names for items in a particular, popular store Up Above.

“Can’t you get us a hint—” Zeb starts, stops as I hold up eight fingers.

“Oh this looks nice…”

“How do you say that?…”

“Vallentuna? What kind of name…”

I set down my drink, raise and enter the summoning circle in the back. “Sorry, but I have to go once more.”

“Again?” Bebub spits flames. “Seven! Seven! Xhrist!”

Zeb slams three fists down on the table, knocking over the half-empty Etus. Lava pools on the ground.

The crimson fog blows from below, encompassing me and I breathe in deep, closing my eyes. When I open them, I’m standing in the furniture aisle, the polished floors reflecting my human form. Receding hairline. Round-rimmed glasses. Yellow shirt tucked into belted khakis stopped just before polished loafers.

There’s only a couple, inspecting a white four-seat sofa. Modular. Good choice for a new homeowner.

“Hello,” I say, smiling, walking to them, “you needed assistance?”

What I also didn’t reveal was how I retrieve the souls. Not by ripping them from the living, but helping, assisting, knowing the products that share my name and removing their souls by kindness, siphoned through their words. Little by little they’re drained, until they’re leaving the store, product in hand, their wallet and soul well empty.

Read my previous prompt, “Wood Replacing Bone

Read more of my writing prompts here.

Check out my bibliography for more of my work.

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