Joy sits on her bed with the old book lying heavy in her lap. She chews on her lip as she skims through the pages. It almost feels like she is discovering new spells every time she opens the book. Just like the one she’s looking at right now.
“The spell of silent obedience.”
Her eyes flicker with mischief. She can control an object with this spell so it satisfies her? Maybe not for tonight, but definitely one to try later. She hums and draws a quick underline beneath the spell’s title, circling the page so she’ll remember.
The ink fades instantly.
Joy blinks. What just happened? The black line vanishes as though it’s been sucked straight into the paper. The page is completely unmarked just a second later.
“What the-”
A sound cuts her off.
A soft scratch-scratch-scratch, like a quill dragging across old paper. Slow and elegant strokes. It seems to be coming from the book itself. Joy’s stomach knots. She flips the page, then another. Her heartbeat picks up speed. The noise is always one page ahead, but she doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Her fingers tremble as she fans through the book faster. Near the back, a page she knows was empty this morning isn’t empty anymore.
Joy’s throat tightens. She stares at the words written in fresh, red ink. They still glisten as if they’re still wet.
“Joy”
Joy stares at her name written in red. Her heartbeat thuds in her ears. The letters are sharp and curved and almost beautiful if it wasn’t so spooky.
“…Okay. That’s new.”
Her first instinct isn’t to slam the book shut, but to grab her pen. The page still looks damp, like the ink hasn’t dried. Cautiously, she presses the tip to the paper beneath the single word.
Her handwriting is tight and small.
“Who’s there?“
For a moment, nothing. She feels silly like a kid scribbling in a diary. Then it comes again. That scratch-scratch-scratch. Joy’s skin prickles. The answer forms right below her line, in the same dark red script as before.
“You know who I am.”
Joy’s lips part. Her chest tightens. A strange thrill creeps down her spine. She taps the pen against the paper.
“…The demon?”
Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
“Yes.”
Her breath hitches both in excitement and worry.
“What do you want from me?”
“Nothing.”
She blinks at the page. Not what she expected. But for some reason that answer leaves Joy unsatisfied. After that one night she saw you disappear into the book. She thought you left for good. She doesn’t know that she’s yours already.
“So you’re… stuck in the book now?”
“Not stuck.”
Joy is about to put the pen back on the paper, but you aren’t done yet.
“What do people in this age call it?….I’m chilling.”
A shudder runs through Joy. It’s almost as if she can hear you laugh. This age? Where are you from?
“I can see you when the book is open. I can answer when you write. Simple.”
Joy exhales and sits back against her pillows. Somehow, your casual tone now puts her more at ease than any cryptic, mystical nonsense would’ve.
Her pen moves again.
“Why me? Why answer to me?”
The ink scratches out an answer almost instantly.
“Because you’re the one who writes.”
She bites her lip, a warmth curling in her stomach. The words on the page feel almost like they’re spoken into her ear.
Joy smirks faintly and scribbles.
“So you’re just here to… chat?”
“I can do more than just chat. You’d be surprised how much someone can want when they have privacy.
Her cheeks heat. She snaps the book half closed on instinct, then reopens it. For a moment she was afraid you’d come out again. But now she thinks that that wouldn’t be too bad, right? She likes the idea of giving up control for the night again. She isn’t sure if she can handle you alone though.
Joy taps the pen to the paper again.
“And what if I don’t want to write?”
“Then you’ll be thinking about me anyway. And you’ll come back.”.
Joy twirls the pen in her fingers, then lowers it to the page.
“If you can really see me… prove it.”
The scratching sound starts immediately.
“You’re sitting cross legged on your bed. Damp hair, probably after taking a bath. Oversized shirt, showing off your right shoulder. Pen cap between your teeth.”
Joy’s breath hitches. She bites down on the plastic cap and quickly spits it out, glaring at the page.
“Lucky guess.”
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