There's A Demon in My Pocket

A chill ran through the church and swam across the body of people near the altar. I stepped in, keeping on my coat for more reasons than just warmth. I felt 'it' wriggling in my right pocket against my hip, poking, scrambling, twisting. Most of the students had left their backpacks on the pews, others still carried them. The choir conductor, Mr. Perea, was exchanging very high-pitched words with our pianist. A few students smiled and waved at me and I returned their 'hellos' when I heard the weird growls coming from within my coat. The ceiling was the height of two stories and the arching beams laced together from the entrance to the altar to ensure every sound echoed and amplified. I walked down the aisle to the altar, murals of religious scenes on both sides; the wall behind the stage of the altar was a massive portrayal of some holy scene I could not name, although I recognized Mary and Jesus.

Before I could get to the steps, the noises from my pocket grew louder and more horrid, a sound I can only describe as a squealing pig being dragged across asphalt. "Eeeeeeeeeeee" it went, and when I opened my pocket the thing was looking straight at me with his three yellow snake eyes, bearing his two sets of jagged teeth.

Despite appearances, I am not a Satanist. I am not a witch, either. I just happen to be from a 'unique' family. My wardrobe is a lot of black clothes and metal bands, sure, but that's not Satanism, that's just style. My brother, Nathan, on the other hand, is a whole different situation, and that's for another story. All that matters is that I owed him a favor and that favor came back to bite me in the ass.

And my hip, apparently.

"Just for a few hours," he told me, holding the demon in his hands. All curled up, he looked like a ferret, if a ferret was a blob of pure darkness and evil intent. Of course, I said no, followed by a few more emphasized versions of no. But when memory of the owed favor came up, I was cornered. "Just hold onto him until six, then I'll collect him. I can't leave him alone at the house." Choir rehearsal was at seven, leaving me with no acceptable reason for declining.

Now, against all my better judgement, I was bringing the monster, the demon, the thing, into a church. I'm sure I broke a hundred holy laws by doing so. I would have left him at home if I knew he wouldn't break everything in the house, or even try to burn it down. The only reason I was in a church at all was to fulfill a college requirement as a music major. When the creature started getting too loud, I reached into my pocket, found his scrawny little neck and squeezed a bit, his small claws scratching my fingers, until he wheezed like a squeaky toy and shut up. The rehearsal didn't start for another five minutes, so I put down my backpack and found the bathroom. In one of the stalls, I waited until all the girls were gone, and pulled the demon from my coat, like holding up a hot slug without the slime. My very own baby Beelzebub, as my brother had put it. I held him up to my face, his head sinking down into his shoulders, growling at me, and I pointed my finger at him.

"Now listen here, Bub. My brother's a jerk for not meeting up and answering his phone, so you're going to stay nice and quiet until I'm done with this rehearsal, or else there'll be Hell to...well, you know what I mean."

His forked tongue came slithering out and he held up his middle claw, flapping his tiny wings. I flicked his horn, shoved him back in my pocket, and returned to the choir.

Rehearsal had begun. We were all shuffled towards our places in a big mess, trying to find our row and position within our section. The range went from the sopranos at stage right to the bassists at stage left, all in four rows. Squeezing between people to get to my spot in the sopranos, I bumped into Jessie. All at once my face went hot and I got stuck in staring. She looked down at me with her dark eyes. Her freckles lifted with her smile and she ruffled her pixie hair.