The Black Grimoire

Robert stuck the shovel into the ground and huffed and puffed as he pulled out an unwashed piece of fabric from his back pocket. Wiping the beads of sweat off his forehead with that damp cloth he contemplated his surroundings. Hundreds of graves with unnamed headstones lay scattered around him. He was lucky, the place was unguarded and without any fence or boundary, or if there was any, it was long gone. Nobody back home knew he was here. He hated himself while lying to his grieving wife about his business trip to Abeerden. When in fact he was here, amidst an ancient burial site, on the outskirts of Culloden. For he believed, the thing he was here for would end their sufferings forever. The mere thought of what all he could achieve with that item recharged his stout figure with an instant burst of energy and he pulled the shovel out of the ground.

   Once again, he started digging. The earth was soft clay and judging by the speed he was confident he could excavate as many as eight graves in a day. He had almost reached the bottom of this one, when the shovel hit the earth with a clang. Curiosity took the better of him. He hurled the tool aside and aggressively started digging with his hands. A box, a metal one, preferably of iron, appeared. Robert's eyes gleamed and he erupted into hysterical laughter. His prayers to the devil had been answered. He had found it; he had found the Black Grimoire.

Robert tossed the book out and climbed out of the grave. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the dirt off the book. Tears of joy cascaded down his eyes as he realized soon, he would be able to revive his dead son, the apple of his eye.

   In his mind he thanked his grandfather who had left him nothing but a piece of paper as inheritance. In that ordinary paper, something extraordinary was inked, some details and a map to find the notorious grimoire. The book that was rumored to be written by one of his ancestors in the 17th century while he was possessed by the Satan himself. It had spells and incantations to invoke the demons who would deal for anything in exchange of the summoner’s soul.

   Wiping the tears off his eyes, Robert pressed the book against his chest. Now he could fulfill the promise he made to his wife before leaving, the promise that he would soon bring back their son. A promise he made to himself that he would revive his dead son back to life.