He came home from work to find a mysterious parcel waiting for him.
It was a strange looking package. He really didn’t think the package was meant for him. The printing on the outside of the parcel was in a foreign language. He knew he hadn’t ordered anything like this, but everything on the label was right; name, house number and address. He thought about it for a while. If he wanted to send it back he couldn’t, there was no return address that he could see. It had no stamps to give him a clue about where it came from. If he took it into the Post Office they’d probably have the same problem and they wouldn’t think too kindly of him for giving it to them. He put it to one side while he thought about it some more.
Later that evening, he sat with it on his lap. He decided to open it to see what it was; naturally he was curious. There’d be no harm in opening it; after all, whatever it was, once opened he would have to dump it; he had no choice. He shook it but heard nothing. When he opened it up he was amazed to find it was a cardboard box containing a single T-Light. The package could easily have held a dozen, or even more. One small, black candle was all there was, packed in a mass of scrunched tissue, also black. It was just the regular size, which didn’t offer any explanation about why it had been packed in such a manner.
As far as he could tell, it was just a small black candle set in a pot of black glass with a black lid. He turned it over and found a faintly printed label underneath. The writing was too small to read and only one word was legible. It said ‘Diablo’. It meant nothing to him, although it sounded as if it could be foreign. He lifted the lid and sniffed at the wax but couldn’t detect any fragrance. It was a real puzzle to him how this strange thing had ended up in his dining room. He went to the kitchen and brought back a box of matches. He placed the T-Light on the table and lit it. Instantly, there was a pungent odour of sulphur. He imagined it was the match.
Minutes later, he was about to sit down with his paper when he heard a soft hissing noise. It seemed to be coming from the candle. He went back to it and found that as well as the sound a heavy smoke was drifting up from the flame but stopping half way to the ceiling. It was gradually forming a large, perfectly shaped ball of dark grey smoke. The sight of this had him trembling and at first he seemed powerless to move. He didn’t know what he was looking at but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. He was about to move forward to snuff it out, when he was frozen by the image taking shape. Two large eyes were now peering out into the room. It seemed to be looking around before saying “You summoned my Master?”
He stood perfectly still while rolling his newspaper up behind his back. With one swift movement, and doing his best not to look into the eyes, he brought it down onto the candle hard with a great thump. A ghastly scream filled the room and the billow of smoke quickly faded away to nothing. He snapped on the lid.
He needed to sit quietly for a while. He made himself a cup of tea and did just that. The episode had left him badly shaken. He sat taking it all in for a long time. What in the world would you do with something that summons up the devil?
In his head, he started running through a variety of ways to get rid of the horrible thing. It could be weighed with a brick and dropped in a river. It could just be put in the rubbish bin. Or… an evil grin came over his face along with some devious thoughts. He could just sent it on! With this new notion, he now sat thinking of new possibilities. There was his mother-in-law for instance. But, no. Not his ex-wife’s mother. She wasn’t such a bad sort really; certainly a lot nicer than her daughter. What about the boss? No. It’s never been anything personal with him, he just gets paid to be nasty.
Of course, there’s the old guy from up the street who never returned his shovel. Over a year it’s been. Real nasty piece of work he is. Asked for it back three times. Last time he said he couldn’t remember borrowing it! He’s a mean old codger who lives on his own. Knowing him, this could be right up his street! A plan began to form in his mind. Doing it by hand could be risky. He could go to a post office in a nearby town where he wouldn’t be recognised. He could have it weighed, have the stamps put on it and simply walk away. He got to work. Everything got carefully wrapped back up and a new address label was glued on. Yes, he would do it tomorrow.
One thing’s for sure, he wouldn’t be asking for his shovel back!