Photo by M.O. Stevens

In the course of doing research for my supernatural YA novel, I recently attended an estate sale for the late, obscure occultist Jarvin Vucklebog. Vucklebog, a contemporary of Anton LaVey impersonators, was the rare purveyor of black magic who shunned the spotlight, so good luck finding anything written about him.

Anyway, I’d only planned on browsing that day; I wasn’t in the market for foam pentagram hats, or Ouija board TV trays, or Jack Parsons’ mustache.

But there was a recent Vucklebog acquisition that did interest me, and the price, surprisingly, was just right. For $20, I picked up a black iron obelisk, about three feet tall, engraved from base to tapered peak on its four sides with several rows of mystic symbols, signs and ciphers. According to the sale guide, the obelisk was the diary of the demon-being commonly known as Xyzeethulu, no relation to Quezeethulu, though both entities frequented the Plegorthian sector of the Fourth Crusted Layer of sub-Hades.

I was at a loss to translate it, of course, but opportunity soon arrived when it was announced that everyone who had purchased an item from the sale was invited to a group seance to communicate with Vucklebog’s spirit. After an eternity of table-rapping and bad lemonade, Vucklebog finally announced himself through his beloved lhasa apso Buckles, and I was able to make my question heard over the clamor that ensued. There seemed to be no response when suddenly I was overtaken by a spastic fit of automatic writing and produced a translation key.

As I convalesced in our local asylum, I began the task of deciphering the diary. It’s been slow going, but what I’ve discovered so far offers chilling insight into the demon mind…

DIARY OF XYZEETHULU – January 23, 2012

“I’m so mad at Devon right now I could just spit the River Styx. He knows me (or I thought he did), knows what’s in my wheelhouse. On video I’m going to do one of two things, eat babies as a ritual sacrifice or push the souls of pre-adolescent girls a smidge darker than they already are. Any other YouTube channel, I’m a freaking star, but Devon’s? He won’t even let me audition unless I agree to eat 666 steak burritos on camera, because hi-ho isn’t it funny that when I pass gas hell-fire shoots out of my butt and my eyes. Stupid genetics. Thanks dads. I know I promised Dr. Baralyxneluthu-Legion Class IV no more poltergeists, but Devon is really  pushing my Hot Buttons of Legorah Dominion, burned into my flesh on my 16th Searing.”

To say this has been a real boon for my novel, is an understatement. Stay tuned for more installments of…A Demon’s Diary.