{"id":1939,"date":"2024-10-12T10:31:12","date_gmt":"2024-10-12T09:31:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/alexisveenendaal.com\/?p=1939"},"modified":"2024-10-12T10:31:13","modified_gmt":"2024-10-12T09:31:13","slug":"the-demon-in-the-flute","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blog.alexisveenendaal.com\/index.php\/2024\/10\/12\/the-demon-in-the-flute\/","title":{"rendered":"The Demon in the Flute"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

The artefact came to me when I was a girl, in a brown parcel left on Mum\u2019s doorstep. But the doorstep wasn\u2019t Mum\u2019s anymore, was it? She\u2019d left two months ago. Neighbours whispered, saying she\u2019d never return.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I rarely opened the door anymore, except for the milk delivery. But the milk deliveries had stopped last week when the bill came due, unpaid. The pantry was almost empty.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Up and down the manure-strewn street, carts and horses lumbered past and delicate ladies swished by in thick wool petticoats. No one watched the orphan girl. I\u2019d become invisible. I snatched up the parcel and brought it inside, unwrapping it by the empty fireplace. I\u2019d run out of wood, too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I ripped open the paper and withdrew a simple wooden instrument, turning it over in my gloved hands. Holes lined the length of it, with one larger opening at the top. A flute.<\/em> Hadn\u2019t Mum played the flute? When she was a girl? Or had it been the harp? Funny, for all the days we had spent together, she hardly spoke of herself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I turned the brown paper over, but there was nothing written on it anywhere. Not even an address. Just the flute.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The wood was strangely cool against my lips. I didn\u2019t know how to play, and yet\u2026 I breathed, and a delighted sound trilled from the instrument. I pulled back. Had I done that? I tried again. I experimented with the little holes, dipping my fingers over each one and bending the notes to entirely new ones, though they all emerged from one breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I let my breath drop \u2013 and the earth shook.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A shimmering black figure appeared from nothing, stacking from the ground up, into a bare resemblance of a physical human form. It bowed, and its face reshaped into the grin of a \u2013 was it a man? <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDaughter of the Song,\u201d he said in a deep, ringing voice like one might hear at an opera house. \u201cThe bargain has been set. I\u2019ve come to answer your Call. Name your deepest desire, and you shall have it.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I dropped the flute on the stone floor. I thought I heard it shatter, but when the demon went to retrieve it, the instrument was whole. He sprang lightly to his feet as though earth\u2019s gravity had yet to take any dominion over him, and held it out to me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I took it, too stunned to do anything else. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cErm,\u201d I managed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYour Mother sent me,\u201d the demon grinned. Indeed, demon<\/em> seemed the right nomenclature, for I now saw two curling horns set amidst a mess of curly black hair. Under the deep purplish skin and black eyes, he was, I couldn\u2019t help but note, rather cute. In fact, the more I looked at him, I thought his face might\u2019ve changed \u2013 his jawline narrowing and his cheeks growing more plump. And did he get a little shorter to match my height?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut you\u2019re just a boy,\u201d I managed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He gave another flourishing bow. \u201cAt your service, my Lady.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy Mother was a Lady. I\u2019m just a girl.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNobody\u2019s just one of anything, surely,\u201d he said, that grin still plastering his face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I narrowed my eyes. \u201cWhat do you want?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He splayed his hands as if it were an absurd thing for one to ask why a demon had just appeared in their lounge in the middle of a cold winter\u2019s day. The same day an unmarked package appeared with a \u2013 yes, I had to admit it \u2013 a magical flute inside. \u201cAs I said, my Lady, I\u2019m your servant, through and through. Your Mother struck a bargain with my Master, and now I\u2019m here. To serve you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cServe me what? Cake?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He snorted a laugh, then straightened a little in surprise, as if no one had made him laugh before. \u201cI guess I could serve you cake if you asked.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGo on, then.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This really had the young demon taken aback. \u201cEr, all right, then. I suppose\u2026\u201d He raised his arms and cast me an uncertain glance. \u201cWhat flavour?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I smirked, feeling I had the upper hand. \u201cSurprise me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He blinked. \u201cWith\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou do <\/em>know what flavours of cake there are, don\u2019t you?\u201d I inched a step back on my heel, waited to see his reaction and, when none came, took another minuscule scoot away. I clutched the flute in my hand because, as it so happened, anything shaped like a wooden baton would do well as a weapon in a pinch. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOf course I know the flavours of cake! I know the origin of cake! I know who it was to first speak the word cake<\/em> into existence. I\u2026\u201d His arms dropped. \u201cI have no idea about cake.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was my turn to snort. \u201cIt\u2019s a spongy dessert.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His sudden look of chagrin had me pause in my thoughts of flight. \u201cYou said my Mum sent you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTake me to her.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. \u201cI can\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou said you would do anything I asked,\u201d I said quickly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnything but that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s not what you said.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He winced.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAh hah! You were supposed to read me some set of rules, weren\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stood a little straighter. \u201cTake me to her. Take me to my Mum.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His shoulders sagged. \u201cMaster Azztredaulious won\u2019t like this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYour boss\u2019s name is Master\u2026 Azz? Forget it, I don\u2019t care. You said you\u2019d do anything for me. So do it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He rubbed his elbows, looking nothing like the terrifying dark visage that had first appeared to me. \u201cWe\u2019d have to travel to the sixth deepest layer of hell.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGreat. So I should pack lightly, then?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The demon boy heaved a sigh heavy enough to split a puddling parasol and held out a hand. I tucked the flute into my skirt and grabbed it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We spun on the spot and my familiar world vanished.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The artefact came to me when I was a girl, in a brown parcel left on Mum\u2019s doorstep. But the doorstep wasn\u2019t Mum\u2019s anymore, was it? She\u2019d left two months ago. Neighbours whispered, saying she\u2019d never return. I rarely opened the door anymore, except for the milk delivery. But the milk deliveries had stopped last…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":1940,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"episode_type":"","audio_file":"","cover_image":"","cover_image_id":"","duration":"","filesize":"","date_recorded":"","explicit":"","block":"","filesize_raw":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[9,360],"tags":[379,378,15,380,381,80,382,383],"series":[],"class_list":["post-1939","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fantasy","category-modern","tag-bard","tag-bargain","tag-fantasy","tag-flute","tag-music","tag-short-story","tag-spell","tag-wish"],"episode_featured_image":"https:\/\/blog.alexisveenendaal.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2024\/10\/8.png","episode_player_image":"https:\/\/blog.alexisveenendaal.com\/wp-content\/plugins\/seriously-simple-podcasting\/assets\/images\/no-album-art.png","download_link":"","player_link":"","audio_player":false,"episode_data":{"playerMode":"dark","subscribeUrls":{"amazon":{"key":"amazon","url":"https:\/\/music.amazon.ca\/podcasts\/09c34bbc-b359-49af-a286-31830ed5634c\/short-stories","label":"Amazon","class":"amazon","icon":"amazon.png"},"apple_podcasts":{"key":"apple_podcasts","url":"https:\/\/podcasts.apple.com\/us\/podcast\/short-stories\/id1621456328","label":"Apple Podcasts","class":"apple_podcasts","icon":"apple-podcasts.png"},"google_play":{"key":"google_play","url":"https:\/\/podcasts.google.com\/feed\/aHR0cHM6Ly9hbGV4aXN2ZWVuZW5kYWFsLmNvbS9mZWVkL3BvZGNhc3Qvc2hvcnQtc3Rvcmllcw","label":"Google Play","class":"google_play","icon":"google-play.png"},"google_podcasts":{"key":"google_podcasts","url":"https:\/\/podcasts.google.com\/feed\/aHR0cHM6Ly9hbGV4aXN2ZWVuZW5kYWFsLmNvbS9mZWVkL3BvZGNhc3Qvc2hvcnQtc3Rvcmllcw","label":"Google Podcasts","class":"google_podcasts","icon":"google-podcasts.png"},"spotify":{"key":"spotify","url":"https:\/\/open.spotify.com\/show\/0lcQCRs52MfYlKs35lVX4K","label":"Spotify","class":"spotify","icon":"spotify.png"},"itunes":{"key":"itunes","url":"https:\/\/podcasts.apple.com\/us\/podcast\/short-stories\/id1621456328","label":"iTunes","class":"itunes","icon":"itunes.png"}},"rssFeedUrl":"https:\/\/blog.alexisveenendaal.com\/feed\/podcast\/default-podcast","embedCode":"

The Demon in the Flute<\/a><\/blockquote>