Chapter 2

As he opened the lid he stared at the red liquid for a little while, letting his mind wander to how he procured it. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself but it did not really work. The putrid smell emanating from the now open container did not make things any better either. He pulled out a paint brush, dipped it into the red liquid and began painting a circle connecting each pole to each other. Next, he painted a hexagram in the middle of the circle with each edge touching the circle.

He finally finished his ‘art’ with a few signs and symbols some similar to the ones on the poles and a few others different from the other. Even he did not really understand even after the old lady explained it to him while they carved the symbols. He could not, for the life of him, remember if they were Arabic, Sanskrit, or both. It might be a whole other language, who knew?

Standing straight with his red dyed brush in his left and the now empty container in his right hand he inspected his work and my goodness, was it perfect. He had spent months non end practicing over and over till it was a bit more than reflex to him. He hated to admit it, but he was a little bit of a perfectionist. His practice had not been for the symbols, but for the perfect curvature of the circle, the straightness of the hexagram, or the spacing between the circles and the poles. Thankfully, the distance between each road was almost like her practiced it.

Nodding satisfyingly to himself he walked to the side and sat down at the side of his duffle bag and took out a bottled water finishing it in one large gulp. He sat there waiting for the drawings to dry up which by his estimate should not be too long considering the heat pouring down. “Anderson!” The sudden call of his name startled him. He jumped up in fright and looked all around him. The voice was right by the side of his ear. It was almost impossible to miss it. What more, it was her voice. He could never forget her voice. Her slightly deeper voice compared to others; how could he forget?

Unfortunately, no matter how many times he turned around he could not find the source. It was too distinct to have been the weed, and yet, him standing alone proved otherwise. ‘I must be going crazy’. He thought to himself. No, with what he was about to do, he was starting to believe it truly was her. He had to believe it. ‘I must be on the right path. She is definitely the one talking to me.’ He told himself, steeling his resolve once more on this crazy path he was taking. After a few minutes of waiting the writings were finally dried. Anderson stood up once more as he again pulled out small trinkets and black ring bags with straps. Each one had symbols drawn on each.

He was beginning to feel like a street performer with the way he kept pulling stuff out of his duffle bag. Maybe after here he might make a living from pulling stuff out of a magic bag. Well, with the stuff he pulled out so far, the bag might as well be magic. ‘Avada’. Chuckling again to himself at his even more terrible joke he proceeded to hang the different trinkets and ring bags on each of the wooded poles stabbed into the ground, carefully selecting which bag went where and what trinket went on what with what. He double and triple checked to make sure he had not swapped one for any other.

At last, he was done with the hard work. Taking out an old and fairly tattered leather-bound book from his leather jacket, he took a deep breath to calm himself while thinking back to all that he had done and gone through to get here. All the decisions he made were for this very moment and if it did not work? Well, at this point he could not afford to think like that at all. Anderson closed his eyes and prayed to her God to help it succeed. At the last moment, that was the least her God could do, considering he still let her suffer the way she did.

‘Anderson.’ This time he did not turn back. He held his book with closed eyes. Could he give up if it did not work? After everything? If, just if, it did not work, then he would just try another way. An even more sinister way, a method he would more than gladly take. After all, he was here to bargain with his soul. What more could he do?

Resolving himself he carefully opened up his tattered book to the bookmark and began to read out loud the incantations. Lifting his hands high up he spoke loudly “Ut dignum offeram! Sanguine mundum veni foras! (I offer to the one worthy to receive. By the blood of the pure, come forth!). Nothing happened. His heart shook in fear. “Ut dignum offeram! Sanguine mundum veni foras!” He screamed once more, and once more nothing happened.

Anderson begun to hyperventilate. Everything he had done. Everything he had been through. Was it all for naught? He was so sure it would happen. Did he make an error somewhere in the process? Anderson knelt on the ground, on the verge of tears. Was this some kind of sign to let things go? He could not. As he knelt on the ground, his mind drifted to her. His wife. He cute smile. Her soft red hair.

‘Anderson’ Suddenly his heart became calm. He picked himself up from the floor. If at first, he felt delusional, then this time he could feel her. “Ut dignum offeram! Sanguine mundum veni foras!” He raised his hands in the air and commanded. This time there was no doubt, no fear. Only conviction, only determination. Anderson frowned slightly because he could have sworn, he heard laughter.