How To Lose A Demon-Free Serial Romance

Don’t ever let anyone tell you that being a witch will make your life easier. It’s about as fun as a visit to a drunken Proctologist. It’s my own fault, I suppose. I am the one that summoned the demon.

You must understand that Michael drove me to it. He’s my still kind of hot, but completely evil, Russian mobster ex-boyfriend. He’s stolen our son and wants me to sacrifice myself so he can buy his demonhood before he’ll give him back. I figured what better way to get him back than by summoning a demon?

Well, that presented its own bag of problems. I didn’t get just any demon. I got Caspian, a Crown Prince of Hell who didn’t want my soul, but wanted me to ride his pitchfork like a scooter, if you get my drift. Maybe it’s more like a Harley. I have to confess that it’s still a beautiful piece of machinery even though it hasn’t been out of the garage since 1972. You know, the devil-shagging gothics were all the rage then.

Anyway, Michael is plagued by all sorts of punishment. Demonic crabs, explosive diarrhea during the opera that’s nothing short of Hiroshimic and a reanimated hooker. Michael murdered her and she’s found sweet revenge as a Dominatrix demon in the afterlife. All of which drive him to the conclusion that I did summon a demon and while singing Are You Lonesome Tonight in my ear, tells me I have ten days to get rid of the demon or he’s going to kill our son.

I’m not sure how to get rid of him. I contemplated bad sex, that makes almost anything male go away, but I decided that would have to be the centerpiece jewel in the Hurts Me More Than You crown.

The cast of characters includes my grandmother, Seraphim, who just happens to be a legendary witch known as the Baba Yaga. And you know how that devil shagging was all the rage? Well, she knows the Devil personally. He might be my grandfather. He’s a remnant from the old pantheon days and still likes to be called Hades. It’s just a job to him, really. He’s not too happy that someone in his employ is having his sulphuric way with his granddaughter though. He’s willing to tolerate it because Caspian starts to grow a heart, a very uncomfortable transformation for all involved.

Ultimately, it’s the key to my happily ever after. The road to one of those is never easy, but banter, smutty Mephistophelean contracts and hijinks ensue.

~Grace Stegaria

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I am the creator

Some sit back

Some sit and lack,

Some sit to think,

Some sit to blink.

Most use the brain,

In a matter of frame,

Psychomotor or cognitive,

Few brilliant and superlative.

To prevail is desired,

Since birth 'til retired,

Work we must

From dawn until dusk.

Achievement is in front,

Create and originate: the gut,

To go with the flow,

Then you will never know.

The Truth will Prevail

I know what you did Current mood: jedi Category: Writing and Poetry The truth is out there, I know what you did, I know you don't care, A conscience is not in your head. Most of us try to do good, Torment is your pleasure, Smiling the best you could To grasp the treasure. Only to rid of it, To hurt the one Who's hard work And justice goes undone. God is up there, ONe day all truths come To those who really care About respect and everyone.

WE'll see, I don't know if I can wait

Try and try do we,

Few selected will triumph,

Maybe just not meant to be,

Situations just seem to disgust.

Builds character, they say,

Working hard and for what?

To be stripped and it slips away,

For arrogance to bully up.

Does karma really exist?

Do workers get a fair share?

Or do the schemers really live?

While others have the world to bare?

Very few is justice done,

The world is getting so corrupt.

I don't like this dungeon,

This world that has become inept.

Jasmine

Mother always protected
Poor Jasmine and her locks
As a child, easy to contain
With books and dolls and pretty frocks.
As a teenager, Jasmine was vain
Always in front of the mirror,
Brush in hand,
Taking care of those beautiful locks.

One day, looking past the crowd,
Jasmine spies enigmatic dark eyes
Hiding under an even darker shroud.
Using her spies,
She learns of his name
Intrigue turns into crush
Learning he was just as vain.

Passing notes back and forth,
Love blossoms for the two youth.
He attempts to court,
knocking at her door.

Mother answers and slams it shut,
not wanting to believe her beloved was grown.
Poor Jasmine is cut
from ever knowing if her love could be sewn.

Jasmine’s heart hardens,
she turns emboldens.

As the night flower blooms,
the air heady with romance,
the dark haired beauty walks out of her room,
forgetting to turn off the lamp
nor saying goodbye to Mother or me.

It’s said that on certain summer nights,
When the flowers bloom
You’ll be greeted by such a site
Of a girl with long black hair
And slender white limbs
So pretty and fair,
Lingering among the flowers,
A sad smile on her face.

Shamless Self-Pimpage

HOW TO LOSE A DEMON IN 10 DAYS It's a free read, come check it out! I'll return the favor. Connect with me on facebook www.facebook.com/SarannaDeWylde.

Dumbass

Man, the screen is full of muck

pencil scribblings etched in the soft display

finger prints, ciggy ash and beer droplets obscure the printed words

time for a rapid cleaning.

I've lost the user's guide, however

can't get by without viewing the contents table.

It's obtuse yet revered and laced with memories

bygone and ridiculous

genuine and pure

a conglomerate of bullshit and piety.

Bricks stacked up against us,

not really, though

that's the rhetoric that keeps me sane.

I'm stacked up against it all, destroying everything in its path

because I'm nothing if I'm not a martyr.

Without that book, I'm really screwed.

You see I can't seem to find the cable

the one that fits just right.

I've tried but bottles full of forget do their job

and my lousy actions stick to your fly paper.

And now I'm downing liquid regret,

washing all that history away.

holy shit

A walk down that stupid lane

took me right back to that time, again.

(I can finally see what was at hand)

I was too blind back then,

to even comprehend.

My expectations, too great

my sight, too unseeing

I put you in a dark hole

and tromped upon the opening.

Apologies and words

are flighty and futile

I am left empty and pondering-

I set the wrong rule.

Can I beg? Would it be

the one thing finally?

(Words poured like water upon sand)

Now that I can see

exactly what you were writing?

We laid it out

you and me

crazy fucks

couldn't we see?

Oh, I am sorry

I feel it desperately

(So much more than I could stand)

Now that I can finally see

exactly what you were writing.