Prompt: Shadows Hide Their Own Secrets (local writing Discord server, 11/14/2025)
Inspired by the Night Gallery episode, ‘There Aren’t Any More MacBanes’
“It’s real. All of it, it’s real.”
Owen had been saying the same thing nonstop since Jeremy had gotten there an hour ago, but he didn’t feel it was his place to interrupt. The apartment, a mess of dirty laundry, dust, and empty Doordash bags, reflected Owen Dolan’s emotional state, and Jeremy realized when he entered that what was needed was not tough love, but a gentle approach.
This was suicide watch, after all.
Owen had been spiraling for weeks. He stopped showing up at work after the funeral, but he could do his job from home. But he had been getting worse at returning calls and e-mails, the Slack chat room had gone silent, and now concern had been spreading even among The Circle. Friends since their days coding in college, they had always stayed together, even forming their own freelance IT security company. When you wanted a well-rounded system, you called The Circle. Just five guys with know-how, experience, and too much time on their hands.
Well, four guys now.
Steve Sachs, the most outgoing member of The Circle, was gone. A freak car accident, as his Tesla had locked its doors and caught fire, leaving him helpless as he roasted inside a $38,000 oven. Owen had withdrawn entirely after the funeral, vanishing from public life and leaving calls unanswered. One week later, he ceased all communication with a single message broadcast over Slack.
It’s all my fault. I can’t see any way out for me.
After talking with Elton Romero and Ron Clay, The Circle had decided to check in on Owen. Nothing big, just popping over and saying hi. Maybe cleaning up the place a little. Or checking the medicine cabinet. Just bros looking out for each other, as they always had done. Romero’s addictions, Clay’s ex-wife, Steve’s ex-wives, and Jeremy’s brief dabbling in NXVIM. Always together – like a circle, really.
But now nobody else in The Circle was answering Jeremy’s calls. Fuck.
“It’s all true,” Owen said again.
Jeremy sighed and leaned back on the one clean spot on the couch. “What’s real, Owen? Work with me here.”
Owen looked his lifelong friend in the eyes for the first time this evening, his own eyes bloodshot and sunken, his skin pale and clammy, his beard patchy and uneven. He pointed his finger at the kitchen.
“What’s in the kitchen, Owen?” Jeremy asked, sparing a glance at the piles of trash. “How bad is it? Do I need a gasmask?”
“Shut up! Stop mocking me!” Owen shouted, his voice cracking. “I know you don’t believe, but you can go humor me!”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to believe in,” Jeremy said as he sighed, rose to his feet, and trudged into Owen’s wreck of a kitchen.
A wreck? The place was spotless. Sanitized. Sparkling.
“What the hell, Owen? You’ve turned your living room into the Toxic Avenger’s lair, but your kitchen is–”
And then he saw the pentagram on the floor. Chalk outline drawn over tile, its borders filled with complex Latin inscriptions. Like something out of one of those Hammer movies they used to watch back in school.
“Uh, Owen, you’ve got something on your floor.”
“I know!” Owen called back. “It’s all real!”
“My man, have you been going all Hereditary on me? You know that stuff’s a crock of shit, right? It’s like how Ron used to be Mormon, and even he had to admit that the whole alien-god-from-Kolob thing was–”
“Look! It’s real! It’s all real! You don’t understand!”
Jeremy’s eyes fell on an old, tattered book resting on Owen’s otherwise spotless kitchenette table. He rolled his eyes and picked it up.
“De Vermis Mysteriis? Dude, what have you been reading? You know this stuff is worthless, right? It doesn’t mean anyth–”
“Put that book down!” Owen shouted as he entered the room. “Stop it! It’s dangerous?”
Jeremy sighed and held it up, letting the pages flip open. “Or what, Owen? A magical mysterious Cthulhu devil will start running around stealing our souls?”
Owen swatted the book from Jeremy’s hands, and it landed in the pentagram, smearing those chalk lines.
“You idiot, listen to me! It won’t work.”
“That’s right. None of the so-called ‘spells’ in that book would–”
“It’s the protections that won’t work.”
Jeremy rolled his eyes. “You know how in all those movies, when somebody gets hysterical they have to slap him?”
“Jeremy Ruiz, shut up and listen to me. This is important. Hear what I’m saying. I’m saying that the occult is real, but the protections aren’t.”
Jeremy folded his arms. “Okay, Owen. I’ll humor you. I know you’ve been taking it hard since Steve–”
“Steve’s death was my fault.”
Jeremy shut up.
“That book belonged to my great-grandfather,” Owen spoke slowly, rationally, each word sounded out with care. “The one who made all my family money, remember? The seed money we used when starting The Circle? I know I’ve never told you any of this, but my whole family are believers. We keep it quiet, but it’s true. We’ve made our money because we made deals.”
“Look, a lot of people feel that their faith is what made them successful. When you believe that God is on your side, you act with more confidence and you’re more likely to–”
“It isn’t God. Shut up and listen, please. My family always talked about the deals we’ve made and the spirits we’ve bound, and I only half-believed it, you know? The same shit you were just saying. Belief is nice, and we were weird and freaky about it, but then the day I turned eighteen they showed me. Do you understand? They showed me. And it was true.”
“What did they show you?” Jeremy had meant to sound sarcastic, but he found his tone wavering.
“They drew a circle, they did the chants, they lit the candles, they rang the chime. They called, and something responded. I saw it materialize in the circle. I–I talked to it. It promised me things. It asked for payment in return. I believed everything, Jeremy. I even swore secrecy.”
“But you’re telling me about it now, so isn’t that breaking your secret deal-thing?”
Owen shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. The thing is, it’s all wrong. It’s real, but it’s wrong. Most of that book is false. Almost all of it. It’s the five percent that’s real, it’s – it’s what it does to you.”
Owen began to drift back to his messy living room, and Jeremy grimaced to follow him.
“The circles and triangles and pentagrams, the candles and incense and bells. It’s all fake. The demon names, too. It’s a big con job. Sure, you could draw a seal on the ground and try to summon Asmodeus or Gusion or Leraje, but how do you know that the being you’re talking to is Asmodeus or Gusion or Leraje? How do you know that those names are even real? It’s all a big con. They obey the rules of the circles and the candles and the True Names because we believe in those things, and it’s easier for them to get what they want if we feel we’re in control. But we’re not, Jeremy. We’re never truly in control. And when the time comes to give what we’ve promised, if we don’t pay up, we – well, what do you think happens, Jeremy?”
Jeremy gingerly stepped around the piles of trash. “What happens, Owen?”
Was that a chill breeze? In an enclosed apartment? He shivered in spite of himself.
“It’s just like owing the mob,” Owen said. “Loan companies have to follow laws, you know? There are rules. But when you get a loan from criminals, they don’t have to follow any of those laws. They can raise the interest rate. They can call the debt in before the due date. And if you don’t pay – if you don’t pay, they can do whatever they want with you. Maybe they’ll even stop by a little early and break your thumb, you know, just so you know they mean business, but when they do come for their money, there’s nothing to restrain them.”
Jeremy looked around reflexively, as if afraid that somebody was watching them. But that was silly – this was a small shithole of a living room. There weren’t even any windows looking out because it was in the middle of an apartment complex.
“Look, Owen. I’ll call Ron and Elton, they’ll come over here, and we’ll all clean this place up. Then maybe we can take a trip, you know, just like old times. Go to a resort or a health clinic or hell, a detox center. Maybe get some therapy, clean our brains out, and feel like new again.”
“They won’t come.”
“Of course they will. Here, I’ll call–”
“Have they been answering your calls, Jeremy? Anybody? Or has it just gone to voicemail every time?”
Jeremy frowned. “What?”
“They won’t answer because they can’t. Because tonight is the night that all debts come due, and there’s nothing any of us can do about it. Steve was like that broken thumb, you know, when the mob gives you a little early warning. But the rest of us are–”
“Are what? Are you trying to say you sold us to the devil?”
“No!” Owen spat. “I never sold any of you! I never wished harm on any of you! But that thing – whatever its real name is. That thing, it called itself Malphas, it made me promise that it would be my only love.”
Jeremy felt himself about to laugh in spite of anything. “Wait, wait, wait. Your love? Owen and Satan, sitting in a tree?”
“Shut up! I told you there’s no devil! Just these things – just whatever they are. And it doesn’t just mean romantic love, Jeremy. It means everything. Sex, family, friends. All of the things we care about. I was supposed to donate myself to him. Her. It. And there was a time limit.”
“What does this have to do with Steve?”
There was a sound, barely on the edge of Jeremy’s hearing. A low, trembling rumble, like the quiet growl of a sleeping animal far away.
“It’s all of you, man. I loved all of you. You were my brothers. My family’s all gone, but I never connected it to this. Just things that happen, you know? Dad had lung cancer, Mom had that accident, Rachel–”
He choked up.
“Rachel I should have known. I should have realized it wasn’t natural. But this thing. It doesn’t follow the rules. I tried drawing a circle for protection and the demon crossed it. I tried using its True Name and it laughed at me. Everything I had relied on, everything I believed in, it’s all bullshit. And it told me it was coming to collect tonight.”
“Owen, this is crazy talk. Are you high?”
“Call them, Jeremy. See if they answer.”
Jeremy frowned and dialed Ron Clay. He turned on the speaker and held out his smartphone, waiting for an answer.
“I’m serious, Owen. Have you been taking anything?”
“You’re grasping at straws,” Owen said. “And you know it.”
Ron’s voicemail message began to play. Jeremy hung up and called Elton next.
“He’s not going to answer because he’s gone, Jeremy. You and I are the only ones left.”
Voicemail again.
“Our circle has become a straight line.”
Jeremy ended the call and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. “Maybe they’re busy, or working late, or something.”
“Or something.”
That growl again. And yet, louder.
“That’s the first sign,” Owen said. “It’s watching.”
“You heard that?” Jeremy asked.
Its pitch deepened, the rumbling now sounding like no natural animal.
“It’ll start in the hall, and it will end here,” Owen explained. “First comes the sound, and then the darkness. It wants to make sure we know it’s coming. That we can see it getting closer and closer.”
“Bullshit,” Jeremy muttered noncommittally as he ran to the door. “There’s nothing out there, Owen, and you know it. Look.”
He flung open the apartment door, half-expecting to see a horned and fanged monstrosity leering at him. But there was nothing. Just the bright, artificially-bland lights of Owen’s apartment complex, a long hallway of doors peppered with the occasional fire extinguisher.
The growling had ceased. The world made sense again. Obviously, Owen was having a breakdown and Jeremy had almost begun to share in his delusion, but reality had reasserted itself.
“Okay, Owen,” Jeremy said. “Come on, there’s nothing to worry about. You need to get some rest, and then tomorrow we’ll get the other guys together and talk this over and find you some real help. You know, Elton’s got a therapist who–”
The lights at the end of the hallway went out.
“First comes the sound, and then the darkness,” Owen repeated.
The next set of lights shut off.
“It’s just a blackout,” Jeremy said, already stepping back into the apartment. “A blackout that affects only a couple of lights at a time.”
Another section of the hall plunged into shadow. And another.
“It’s nothing,” Jeremy pleaded against the encroaching darkness.
“For God’s sake, shut the door!”
Jeremy obeyed and slammed the apartment door shut just as the darkness had nearly reached them. He backed away, his heart beating into his ears, his breath coming in an adrenaline rush as he almost stumbled over his own feet.
“This isn’t real!” he tried to protest one more time. “Owen, come on, you know this can’t be real!”
Darkness flooded the apartment, shadow covering the door and creeping across the walls. Both men ran from the living room to the kitchen, and Jeremy dashed toward the chalk circle.
“It won’t work!” Owen shouted at him. “Don’t you understand? The chalk won’t work!”
Night descended within the kitchen, the lights snuffed out by an oppressive wave of jet-dark shadow. To Jeremy, the air felt heavy and hot, as if it would smother him. Filled, not empty. As he lost his sight in the haze, he could hear thrumming in his ears, the rhythm of an inhuman heartbeat.
The voice that spoke did not use the words of mankind, and yet he understood.
I have come for payment.
“Leave him alone!” Owen yelled from the darkness, his voice distant, muffled by the thick, smothering shadow.
I have come for payment. What you owe is mine.
“Take me instead! Not him!”
I will take what I am owed.
“I made the deal, not him! Not any of them! I’m the one who called you! I’m the one who signed the contract! They never knew! They were never part of this! Take me instead!”
I will take what I am owed.
“Owen!” Jeremy called out, feeling the words fade and die in a whisper.
“Then take me and end it!” Owen said one more time.
The Presence did not respond. Silence descended like a flood, the darkness so thick that Jeremy felt he would drown.
And then.
And then it was gone. The air became breathable, the kitchen lit up, and the ringing in Jeremy’s ears ceased. It was gone.
Owen was gone.
All gone.
Jeremy fell to his knees, gasping for breaths of cool, free air. He looked around himself.
“Owen?”
Silence.
“Owen, are you still here?”
More silence. Jeremy looked upwards for lack of a direction.
“Did you take him? Did you take my friend?”
Of course nothing answered. There was nothing in here. No darkness. No Voice. No Owen.
Jeremy reached for the discarded book on the ground. He hurled it across the kitchen, and it smacked against the fridge before, its pages crumpled and spine broken.
“Is that it? Is that all? You’re just going to do all this and go? You’re gonna take my friends and then leave! Is that everything?”
There was no darkness, no growl, but a still, small voice spoke in Jeremy Ruiz’s ear.
I can give you everything.
Jeremy gasped and stumbled.
Anything. Whatever your heart desires. I only wish your loyalty.
“Why would I be loyal to you?” he asked.
Why wouldn’t you be loyal to me? You have nobody. No one to love. Give your love to me, and I will give you the world.
Jeremy shook his head.
Your Circle is broken. You stand alone. Your friend was weak, but you would not falter as he did. You are not weak. You are not afraid. You do not have foolish love.
He shook his head again. “I can’t do this. I just–”
The world will be yours, in exchange for the love you would never give to anybody anyway. Such a small price.
But it was right, wasn’t it? It wasn’t like Jeremy had anybody left in his life. Owen had a full family and all those friends, but Jeremy had neither. Not anymore. Come to think of it, this deal really was completely in his favor. He’d be making out like a bandit.
Anything you want. The world is yours.
Yes, the world could be his. Indeed.
Well, then. Why not?
Jeremy Ruiz made his choice, and the cycle continued.
Just like a circle.