Static noises

The setting was dark, and the two exorcists were standing under the heavy rain, locked in a battle with a new demon and trying yet again to save the poor unfortunate soul it was possessing.

“Boss, I don’t know if we’ll manage to-”

“We will, have faith!” the leader shouted, striking the demon with a mystical attack that sent it skidding on the ground. “Now, use one of the talismans and keep it on its forehead! It will give me enough time to exorcise it!”

“Ah, yes, boss!” The apprentice neared the demon, and-

Edgar turned off the television, that became silent with a static blink, and slouched on the sofa with a dejected sigh. Every single episode of The Talisman managed to end with the two protagonists exorcising the demon of the day with the exact same type of talisman without fail: he supposed that it was expected from a series titled like that, but after thirty-six seasons and another thirty special episodes one began to get fed up. It was a shame and from time to time he still checked what was going on, since he kind of liked the premise, but he got the distinct impression that the end and in general some actual plot points were still to be reached.

He sighed again, and his head rolled on the cushions of the sofa to look out of the window. He had turned off the television, but the heavy and constant pitter patter of the pouring rain was still present. He was not usually the type to spend much time outside, but he did not know what to do, beside homework, and he did not even want to think about school on a Friday evening: he kind of liked learning, but there had to be a limit to everything. After some more pondering, he decided to get up and take a book: that was always a good idea, after all, especially with that weather as background noise.

When dinnertime came, and his parents turned on the television to listen to the news on the main channel, he was still nose-deep into his book: he had read it at least a hundred times already, he knew it by heart at that point, but it was one of his favourites.

“Ed, please, put that book down, or your meal will go cold.” At those times, his parents sounded as tough they were torn between wishing they had not instilled such love for books in him and being proud of him.

“Yes, yes, sorry.” He still did as he was told, since he was a dutiful son, thank you very much, putting the book on the chair next to his.

His focus not being on the novel he was reading anymore, however, he made the mistake of listening to the news, that until that moment was merely in the background of his perception. The presenter’s voice seemed strained. “… today, on Friday the 3rd of October, a middle schooler was found dead near the Andrew Bell High School. According to our experts it was an unfortunate accident, and the cause of death should be attributed to a fatal fall. However, the child’s family…”

At that point, Edgar tried his best to tune out the rest of the transmission and focus solely on his food. Despite his efforts, however, his thoughts had already started swimming and overlapping in his head.

Why is it always the Andrew Bell? I don’t like that.

It’s better if I avoid that place for some time, just in case.

What could’ve happened? No, Edgar, it’s none of your business.

Bust, most of all: How will John take this?