Michael Kromah

Prodigal Sun

Chapter 1

8:57 P.M 11/11/23

Knock Knock

Cyrus: It’s open.

Civilian: I need you to open it for me.

Cyrus took one last drag from his cigarette, passed his hand through his fluffy hair, put out his cigarette, and opened his hickory office door. It was a young man, no older than 25. He was pale, with piercing green eyes held by deep eye bags. He had to crouch down to enter Cyrus’ office.

Cyrus: You seem to have two functioning hands. Why can’t you open it yourself?

Civilian- Long story— sorry I was expecting you to be I don’t know older.

The civilian wasn’t wrong to call Cyrus young, he was 26 after all. He was quite thin. He had almost constant bedhead and glasses with dark brown, tired, angry eyes behind them. He wasn’t short but not especially tall, probably 5”10 when he isn’t slouching.

Cyrus: Sorry I’m not the ex-cop you were expecting. Cyrus Montague, the too young for a private investigator, private investigator. Name?

Civilian: Uh it’s Tim, Tim Dillard. Er sorry, I thought you were a paranormal investigator, like ghosts and shit. Is this the wrong Morningstar Investigations?

Cyrus: God dammit! You people always come here just for your spooky stories. Yes, this is Morningstar Investigations and yes I do paranormal investigations, but I can alsocatch your girlfriend cheating or get evidence that your boss is doing illegal shit. Never a normal job. Ghost story, spill it.

Tim: Uh ok so me and my buds, Martin, Simon, Ned, Tony, and John work at this campsite in Fordwick. Honestly, the easiest job ever, everybody goes to Myriad Park so it’s an easy paycheck. So Ned thinks it’d be fun for us to all get high on the job, we don’t have anything better to do so we start smoking. So you know we start driving through the forest, high off our asses and we see this random door in the forest—

Cyrus: Color?

Cyrus asked, scribbling on one of those yellow, lined paper notepads. He was

completely unsurprised and didn’t take a moment to look up from his notepad. He just

scribbled away in a room that was probably too dark.

Tim: I'm sure it was supposed to be black with yellow panels, it was pretty faded though. Why?

Cyrus: Just keep telling your story.

Tim: Okay. So Simon’s like “Oh that’s weird. That was never there.” So we walked over to it thinking someone was playing a prank. When we got closer Martin couldn’t stop staring at the door, it felt so out of place. The door was old and all the signs showed that it had been sitting there for a while, no tracks, the wood paint peeling from being outside for seemingly years. The frame was deep in the ground. Martin just keeps staring like he’s in a trance and he just says “Don’t you hear the knocking?” At first, we have no idea what he’s talking about, but then I hear it too. It starts getting louder and louder and it’s coming from the door. Simon tries to get us to go back but then the door knob starts shaking. This time everyone else sees it too, except John, I don’t know where he went while I was fixed on the door but he was gone. Ned usually has a high tolerance for fear and weed but he starts freaking out. Simon notices that John is missing but when he looks on the other side of the door, John isn’t there. The knocking was so loud that everyone recoiled and before anyone could say anything I opened the door. On the other side all my friends were lying there covered in black pustules behind a guy in a hoodie with black pustules for eyes and I swear he didn’t have a mouth. So I ran home and when I went to open the door I was back in the forest again in front of him and my friends. I take the company car home and break in through the window. I haven’t left my house in a couple of days, and every time I look in the mirror I see them, I can’t open any doors, the first time I left I tried going to church, but it didn’t help. Then when I searched exorcists you came up.

Cyrus: First, not an exorcist, I’m not affiliated with a religious organization, not ordained in any way. Second, a little paranormal lesson, You opened a grifter door, powerful spirits. They take away your ability to open doors, forcing you to wherever you first opened the door until they eventually kill you. Third, do you want something to protect you or for a larger fee, I can take it out?

Tim: Of course I want the murderous ghost guy gone.

Cyrus: Alright, gimme a sec.

Cyrus grabs an assortment of relics from a rusty filing cabinet and a gun. They were pretty old but not as old as you would expect from relics. They also seemed kind of random, there didn’t seem to be a logic to why each item was chosen or even why he had each of them. The gun was an old rusty yet ornately designed desert eagle, it was overused but maybe that was why it was useful. Cyrus put all his things in a satchel as he exited his apartment/office hybrid with Tim.

Cyrus: Hey Jess.

Jess: Hey Cy. You seem a bit busy, Are you sure we can’t talk later?

Cyrus: Yeah we can talk when I finish up with work stuff. Can you just call Raj for me real quick? Tell him to meet me in Fordwick and bring his gun.

Jess: Still refuse to call him yourself? You know you’re inevitably gonna have to just talk to him yourself if you're gonna keep asking for his help closing cases right? Especially since he’ll inevitably move in with me if everything goes well.

Cyrus: I’ll continue how I have it now for as long as possible, but if you don’t want him to come with me then I’ll handle it.

Jess: Look I’ll call him but you can’t just order him around and ignore anything he says if you're gonna keep asking favors.

Cyrus: I don’t make promises I’m not sure I can keep.

Tim: Are we gonna go or do you have other things to do?

Cyrus: Yeah yeah, I’m coming.

They got into Cyrus’ car. It was a very old car, a station wagon. The kind you would assume wasn’t made anymore. He began driving to Fordwick. His radio was beyond broken so they sat in the car in complete silence.

***

Cyrus: Okay so where is the door?

Tim: It’s just down this path.

They walked in silence for a while. Tim would only speak up to direct Cyrus toward the direction of the door. Tim was keenly aware of exactly what path to take.

Tim: Right here. That’s the door.

Cyrus: Yup definitely a grifter and no Raj. Welp relying on someone else is a deadly sin when dealing with spirits. I can do this on my own. Cyrus began putting assorted trinkets on and around the door. Then he analyzed the door for a while.

Cyrus: Claude ostium, dimitte maledictionem. Dimitte miseros. Natum tuum solve. Redite unde venistis. Claude ostium, dimitte maledictionem. Dimitte miseros. Natum tuum solve. Redite unde venistis. Claude ostium, dimitte maledictionem. Dimitte miseros. Natum tuum solve. Redite unde venistis. Claude ostium, dimitte maledictionem. Dimitte miseros. Natum tuum solve. Redite unde venistis. Claude ostium, dimitte maledictionem. Dimitte miseros. Natum tuum solve. Redite unde venistis.

The door began to creak and shake. Then he began carving sigils into the door. His silver blade shuddered through the wood of the door as blood trickled down from the wounds he made, chanting as he went on. The creaking grew louder and louder, and the shaking became more violent until the door opened.

Cyrus: Alright Tim, I’d suggest you stand back, your friend is coming out and I’d prefer the guy paying for this to be alive to sign my check.

Tim: Standing back.

SNAP

The door, fallen off its hinges, revealed its other side. On that side is a long hallway, lined with pictures of Martin, Ned, Simon, John, and Tony, repeating for miles. And at the end of that hall is a tall man whose head scrapes the hallway's ceiling. His oily straggly hair went down to his waist. He wore an old bomber jacket over a dirty tank top. His flaky skin was covered in cuts and bruises. His face, which was the most disgusting part of him, was an open door to an expansive cavern that was supposed to be the inside of his skull.

Grifter: Wheeeeeze cough cough gasp

BANG BANG BANG

click click click

Grifter: SHRIEEEK cough cough wheeze

Cyrus: Jam, shit. Stupid fucking gun. Normally that’s fatal, curious. Anyway TIM, RUN!

Tim was already well on his way out of the forest, it was just Cyrus and a very angry spirit.

Cyrus: Well now that we’re alone I guess it’s time I earn my paycheck.

Cyrus reproduced his ornate silver dagger. Runes lined the blade and the leather grips seemed brand new.

Shink

The blade shuddered into the grifter’s hardened skin, causing his inky blood to ooze out. Cyrus sawed into its skin but the beast-like man didn’t stop. The blade plunged deeper into its skin, but that didn’t stop it from tackling Cyrus.

*Shink shink shink*

Cyrus stabbed wildly to no avail. The grifter’s large calloused hands grasped Cyrus’ spindly neck. It could easily snap his neck but Cyrus could see that it wanted to watch the life slowly dissipate from his eyes.

Cyrus: Cough cough gasp wheeze

As his vision faded, Cyrus couldn’t help but wonder why the silver wasn’t working, he had killed hundreds of entities, dozens of grifters, but none of the precautions worked.

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

Cyrus: Cough cough cough wheeze Shit! You're late, I almost died! What the hell took you so long?

A man around Cyrus’ age stood over the dissipating grifter’s body. He had brown skin, and grey eyes, and was significantly more well-kempt than Cyrus. Rajeed was a muscular man, a couple of inches taller than Cyrus, with a beard, and slicked-back black hair.

Raj: Sorry man I was in Myriad Park, who the hell thought it would be a good idea to put two parks next to each other? How’d you get caught up like that anyway?

Cyrus: I don’t know, the thing took the silver like it was nothing. Speaking of which, why’d your gun work?

Raj: I don’t know, it's just normal blessed silver rounds.

Cyrus: Huh. I never had to bless my rounds before. Something’s changing; the spirits are getting stronger and smarter too. I swear it wasn’t just trying to kill me because that’s all it knows, it was enjoying it, it knew what it was doing.

Raj: Look man figuring out what's going on with the spirits is your thing, I can help you out with fighting ‘em, you just gotta ask. Also, you should probably head to your dad and get your rounds and your knife blessed.

Cyrus: Goodbye Raj.

Raj: Yeah no problem, any time.