Naturally, my sister and I exchanged wary looks before she whispered,
“Erh… What’s he doing?”
I shrugged my shoulders and told her,
“I don’t know, he started doing this earlier,”I replied as he walked closer to us and ended his strange ramblings, now facing us with a serious look on his face.
“…Without awaiting his judgment, ‘watch where you go, once you have entered here, and to whom you turn! Do not be misled by that wide and easy passage!”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, but his reply couldn’t help but make me shiver.
“Lord Oblivion, the keeper of souls…”
“…Enforcer of the Judged.”
7
INTO OBLIVION
“This is crazy!” The little demon-goblin stalker said after we got out of the cab and were now facing the building. One it was clear he did not want to go into.
He had promised nothing but my demise and end of the world style annihilation for my soul should I ever meet this guy, etc. etc. Honestly, I wished I knew a spell on how to summon duct tape by this point, as he hadn’t stopped all the way here.
Thankfully, I was now getting used to swallowing my replies and insults in fear that people would think I was just plain crazy. But then, as I faced the building where this secret club was supposedly hidden, I had to question whether, maybe, I was crazy.
Sabrina had instantly turned detective, reaching out to my mom’s coven and to other people she knew in the supernatural worshipping ‘lifestyle’. This meant that within a few hours, she had finally found an address and, with it, the strange name of one…
Wyedari Oblivion.
Of course, the mention of the name sent the goblin into another one of his chanting frenzies, and it was clear thelittle demon didn’t want to go home. In fact, up until Sabrina had discovered the address, he had proceeded to make himself at home. This included devouring most of the two pizzas we ordered, as in his words, ‘we weren’t quick enough to share’.
My sister had finally asked me what his name was, and after getting it wrong twice, he snapped,
“For Lucifer’s sake, girly, it's Bo… ru… ta!”
I rolled my eyes and said,
“Yeah, well, it’s time for a nickname, buddy.”
At this point, my sister had jumped up and down, clapping as she said,
“Bo! Let’s call him Bo!”
At this, he started choking on his crust, spitting it out and shouting,
“Fuck no!”
“Bo, I like it,” I replied, making him cross his skinny arms and tell me,
“Well, I don’t.”
“Bo, it is then,” I declared with a grin, making him throw his arms up dramatically. But then just before he could start complaining any more, my sister had said,
“Aww, Bo, I like it, it makes him cuter.”
I gave her one of my best, ‘are you for real’ looks, causing her to just shrug her shoulders and say,
“What? It does.”
