The Ritual...

...was almost ready to begin. Cyrus slipped the jeweled amulet over his neck, the pendant hanging squarely over his heart. One by one he lit each candle. They cast a fluid, shifting aura of orange firelight as the flames bent and flickered in the mild evening wind. Slowly and carefully, Cyrus double-checked every corner of the pentacle he'd carved into the ground, knowing the slightest gap could mean disaster. Then with the same care he circled around the triangle where the black dog was was chained. With a subtle nod and the faint crack of a smile he deemed the spot ready.

He stood in the center of the pentacle and waited patiently until the setting sun was just a blood-red haze on the horizon. Grinning with anticipation he pulled his book out from under his cloak and opened to the right page almost by muscle memory. He rolled his finger over the proper incantation and silently mouthed the words in latin. It was just a formality of course; he knew the words by heart. He closed his eyes and whispered the phrase the to himself. Then he repeated it, louder, then again, louder still, keeping precise time and perfect meter. He continued, again and again, until his voice became a chorus that snuffed out every other sound. And from that eerie silence a voice called out “Cyrus...”

“Cyrus! There you are!” Sarah shouted from the other end of the backyard. “Mom was looking for you. Wait, what's the neighbors' poodle doing here?” Cyrus didn't answer. “Oh Jesus, you know mom's going to kill you if she finds out you've been playing Faust again. Why can't you just play cops and robbers like a normal kid?” Rolling her eyes, Sarah turned back toward the house. “Make sure you clean up the pentagram or whatever before bed. And give the Jensens back their poodle or else I'm telling mom.”

Red with embarrassment and rage, Cyrus kicked over the circle of old birthday candles, leaving him alone in the dark. He smeared the pentagram under his shoe until it was buried in the dirt and let Mr. Barkley off his leash. He ripped off the hooded cloak from his Dr. Doom costume and the cardboard pendant fell off with it. Welling with tears, he stomped the cloak into the dirt-covered ruins of his pentagram.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot,” Sarah's voice called out again, “Dad wants his Black Sabbath records back. And he said quit playing them backwards. It scratches the vinyl.”

Feeling powerless and ashamed, Cyrus ran back home home and shut himself inside his room. Mr. Barkley drooped his ears in disappointment, thinking he had the kid for sure that time.