So, you put on a suit and, somehow, you’re no longer an animal? You write, you speak, you’re educated, you eat and commune and dream and dance and laugh and cry, but you’re not an animal? What a load of nonsense!


    Human is just your second language.


    ...


    I am that which has no answer.


    I am of paradox.


    I am the Fool, and I follow no path but to wander freely.


    Is a knife evil? Is cold evil?


    I know not evil, for I am not it.


    Evil is on humanity''s dominion.


    And so is good.


    I am of what lies in between, the transient state.


    I am of change.


    Who are you, morsel?


    Beware, He is watching.


    I could finally breathe, though the feeling that I was deep underwater didn’t cease at all. I could feel the imposing presence weighting down on me, as if I carried the world on shoulders of rusty nails and broad thorns. I was afraid of what my answer could end up doing, but I was in too deep to stop now.


    “My name is Séadna, and I have summoned you in pursuit of knowledge…” I ventured. This was the first time I had been reached by something this terrifying, and I found myself quite outside my depth. “Can I ask for your name?” I asked, to which the thing laughed, making my entire body tremble, though none of the objects in the room seemed to move at all compared to the violent shaking I was enduring.


    Many would consider that request an offense, Séadna,


    it said, audibly rolling my name in its tongue and stretching it out, as if savoring its taste,


    but you are new to this, I can taste it. You’ll be forgiven for your transgressions for the first and last time.


    It seemed I wasn’t too far from the mark with tasting bit…


    Call me…Casamir, yes.


    Knowledge you ask, and knowledge I’ll give,


    even considering the meagre offering I’ve received;If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Names hold power, boy, don’t give yours freely.


    The lights flickered, and promptly burnt out. My heart leapt into my throat as I felt a hand, coarse and hairy, rest heavily on my shoulder. Its nails bit into my skin, sharp as daggers, but the hand shifted and changed, becoming softer than any touch I had ever known. Goosebumps prickled my skin.


    You seem promising, but I’m running on borrowed time,


    and my master would love to meet you, so I will do a favor to you both.


    But next time, get more meat. Bird meat is the tastiest.


    Variety goes a long way for those that mostly sate their hunger on the flesh of their kin, he laughed and the heavy weight was gone, but the lights didn’t go back to normal.


    For quite some time I was too afraid to move and get up, but in the stark darkness of my apartment, my phone started ringing.


    “Sup Séadna, I’m bringing pizza. You ate already?” Asked Cathán as soon as I answered the call. I was still on shock, so I just grunted a ‘no’, which he took in stride as he continued “Trystan and Matthias are joining us as well. See you in 15 minutes”


    He ended the call, and I got up from the floor, and using the flashlight, opened all the windows in the apartment. The smell of burnt hair was very noticeable, after all.


    The problem was, after trying to turn on the lights again, he realized that it wasn’t a trick and, yes, all the lightbulbs in his place had been burnt.


    …


    When Cathán arrived, it was half an hour later. He carried a box of lightbulbs along with the pizza, his usual grin in place.


    “Séadna, I think you’re cursed, man. The smells, the lights” He paused, his tone dropping. “And I don’t want to freak you out, but… I keep seeing things. At the edges of my vision. In the doorways, outside the windows. This place is haunted, man, I’m telling you. I know somebody that can help you, here”


    He grabbed a napkin,  and quickly scrawled a name and number: Shea, written in a neat and flowy script, followed by a number and an almost unnassuming heart at the end. The writing wasn’t Cathán’s, and I could almost hear Casamir’s mocking laughter in my mind.


    “Just remember,” Cathán, or whatever was speaking through him, said with a chuckle, “bring meat. Bird meat. We’ll be waiting.”


    I stared at the napkin in his hand, the small heart at the end both mocking and unsettling. I almost wanted to laugh it off but the air still felt wrong, thick and slow like tar, as though the world hadn’t quite shifted back to normal.


    “Cathán…” I began, but quickly stopped. My friend, or whatever this was, was rummaging through the pizza box, seemingly oblivious to the weight of the moment.


    “Relax, man,” Cathán said, biting into a slice. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”


    My mouth went dry. My voice barely above a whisper, I asked “Who’s Shea?”


    Cathán froze mid-bite. For a moment, his carefree demeanor slipped, and something darker flashed across his face. “Shea?” he repeated, drawing the word out. “Why are you asking me?”


    “The name you wrote” I said, holding up the napkin.


    “I didn’t write that,” Cathán replied, his voice lower now, more serious. He squinted at the napkin, his brow furrowing. “That’s not my handwriting.”


    The room felt colder with each passing moment.


    I fucked up, I fucked up.


    Why, why did I have to go bigger? Why couldn’t I be content with the slow and steady way? Was my friend’s support making me bolder? Reckless?


    I was knee-deep in shit, and I briefly entertained the idea of leaving the city and everything behind, to start anew far, far away from whatever it was that was waiting for me a single phone call away. But I couldn’t, they knew Cathán’s name.


    “Séadna, man, are you ok?”


    I wanted to push further, but knocking stopped me on my tracks; Trystan and Matthias were outside the door, their chatter breaking the silence like a sledgehammer, and the ominous napkin was still in my hand.


    I royally fucked up.