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Beau

C arolers!

Beau let his knitting needles fall from his fingers, the half-finished scarf pooling on the floor as he rushed to the window of his living room. He pushed the fluffy white curtains aside and peeked through the stenciled designs of a Christmas village on his glass. He pressed his nose close to one of the little trees done in fake snow spray and found a group of cutely dressed adults and children standing in front of his neighbor’s door.

They were holding red and green binders in front of them, glancing at them every once in a while as they sang the festive songs.

Beau found himself swaying to the cheerful rhythm, pressing himself closer to the window to check if all of his lights and decorations were on and glowing brightly. He didn’t want them thinking he wasn’t home.

It all seemed to be in order.

The string of colorful lights trimming his house was twinkling merrily, the two large reindeer and a snowman were lit on his snow-covered lawn, and there were colorful presents scattered through the snow everywhere. The few evergreen bushes he had were all wrapped in lights as well and covered with large, colorful baubles.

He knew he’d probably gone a little overboard, but he had always loved Christmas. He’d always longed to go all out for it, he’d just never had the chance to indulge before. When he was a child, his parents had preferred to spend money on their various vices rather than the holidays. Then when they finally decided they didn’t really want him around, he was shuffled from foster home to foster home where money was stretched even thinner.

After that he was homeless, so there was nothing and nowhere to decorate. And there wasn’t ever anyone to decorate with. He was always alone. At his lowest, he’d wrapped up a small gift for himself and left it under a potted plant he’d draped in some tinsel he’d found thrown away.

This year, after years of saving and struggling and working whatever and however many jobs he could find, he had his tiny little house. In a tiny little town. Surrounded by other tiny little houses.

He’d gotten all the lights and all the decorations and all the brand-new tinsel he could afford. He even had a tree. Although his old plant was still decorated too. For old times’ sake.

So maybe he’d gone a bit crazy and spent the last of his savings on making one of his dreams come true.

And maybe, just maybe, a part of him had done it to see if it would make someone want to be his friend.

He had hope. The holidays were the time for miracles, right? That was what all his books and all the fairy tales he liked so much led him to think.

He just had to believe.

So he listened to the carolers singing, nose plastered to his window, waiting. Patient. Excited.

The song ended.

He felt himself tense as he waited for an appropriate time to go to his door and open it to listen to the group sing him a carol.

The carolers moved down the street. Away from his neighbors’ and toward his house. They reached his white fence. Paused to look at his decorations. He saw them comment something and he wished he knew what they were saying. If they liked them or appreciated the effort he had put into them.

They moved again.

Toward the entrance and the cute cobblestone pathway leading to his front door.

And then past it, down the pathway to the door of his neighbor on the other side.

Beau stared through the window, feeling his heart beating so loudly he feared it jumping out of his chest. He put his palms up on the glass, messing up the pretty designs he had spent so long perfecting.

They hadn’t come to sing for him.

They hadn’t even looked at his door.

They’d just skipped him. Overlooked him like he wasn’t even there.

Like everyone else in his entire life had done.

Everyone else would get a smile and a pretty song that evening. They’d join together in spirit and community. Everyone but Beau.

He pushed himself away from the window, hands shaking and palms covered in fake snow. He wiped them on his homemade sweater before using the backs of them to smear the tears on his cheeks.

He let the curtains fall back over the window, obscuring him from view. As if he needed them to do that. He was invisible even in broad daylight in the middle of the street. Nobody ever took a moment to meet him, give him a chance.

Nobody ever cared.

He’d spend another Christmas alone. Surrounded by pretty lights and baubles now. Warm, with a roof over his head. But… alone.

He let himself slide down to the floor, right next to his tree and the potted plant he had decorated just to remember how far he’d come. He looked up at the shine of his tree, knowing it would be reflected in the watery blue of his eyes.

He was so tired.

Of trying. Of doing his best. Of giving the world chance, after chance, after chance to see him, only to never be seen.

He looked down at his lap, desperately trying to figure out what it was about him that made people so wary of him. What was so unlikeable about him that he’d never had a single friend? A family. What was it that made people take one look at him, through him, and decide he wasn’t worth a moment of their time?

He didn’t have an answer.

He tried to be nice to everyone. He did his best to be polite, smile at people, ask about their day. He held doors and picked up dropped items for them to make their lives a bit easier. He did everything he could think of, everything nobody had ever done for him, just to get a chance.

He was just so tired…

The lights on his tree changed settings, blinking and dancing around, reflecting off the surface of the silver wrapping paper he’d used to wrap himself a small gift.

He knew it would be the only one he got, so he’d made sure to grab a big bow and make it as pretty as he could. It was shining under his tree, and he reached for it, knowing it wasn’t the right time to open it yet but… what did it really matter anyway?

No one was here to scold him. Or even know when and what he did. It felt like defeat and rebellion all wrapped into one.

He opened the gift carefully, folding the silver paper to the side and placing the bow on top of it. He’d keep that. The first gift he’d received, under his very first tree, in his very first real home.

It felt like something to be preserved.

He turned his attention back to the gift. It was a book. He’d found it a few weeks ago in his favorite used bookstore, in the occult section.

Beau liked weird stuff. He liked myths and legends and magic and creatures and all sorts of things people usually scoffed at and dismissed. Even the things people turned their nose up in disgust at or shied away in horror, Beau did his best to take as they were. Beautiful and special in their own ways. He’d gathered a small collection over the years. So, when he’d seen a book on demons and the different realms of Hell they inhabited, he’d been immediately drawn to it. It was leather bound and heavy, decorated with gemstones and tied at the side with black satin ribbons. It looked mysterious and called out to Beau instantly.

It was also discounted because there was some damage to it and the owner of the store had said there were a few pages missing.

Beau didn’t really care.

He wanted it, and because of the imperfections, he could afford to buy it for himself. He was glad now, because he needed to take his mind off things and this felt like the perfect way.

He cracked the spine open, coughing at the strong scent coming off the yellowed pages. Dust and old age. Dried ink and humidity. And something almost… sulfuric? He wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t completely unpleasant.

He flipped through it, losing himself in the vivid descriptions and detailed illustrations. Hell looked… beautiful. He knew it was supposed to be scary, but there was something about the images of large, ornate gates, dark pits and long shadows that left Beau in awe.

Nobody was in Hell if they didn’t deserve it. The demons there weren’t vindictive, soulless creatures out for blood. They had a job to do and they were placed there for a reason. The ruler of Hell was just doing what a good boss was supposed to do—making sure everyone knew their place in an organization of that scale. He was also "devastatingly handsome and deserving of all the lustful looks he was getting," according to the book.

He peeked at the book’s face, trying to find the name of the author. He’d never really seen Hell described as a place of justice and fairness. He wanted to know whose worldview it was.

He found the author’s name at the bottom of the front cover.

Oren. No last name.

He made a note to himself to try and research more about Oren and see if he could find more of his work. For the time being, he just kept on reading, lost in the world he found so fascinating, but still hoped he’d never see in person.

After all, he did think of himself as a good person, despite how the rest of the world treated him. Underneath the echoes of their rejection, Beau still thought there was something good about him.

There had to be.

He flipped the page and found a passage about a demon named Tana. A tiny creature who had the ability to make everyone run for cover. He smiled at the vivid storytelling about one of her outbursts. The author really had a way with words. It felt so real.

Another chapter was about a set of demonic twins, and Beau found himself fascinated by their antics and their connection. He found himself aching for something like that. For a closeness with someone that ran so deep they couldn’t stand to be apart.

He wondered if anyone would ever want to keep him close. If anyone would ever consider him such a vital part of their life that they’d never want to leave him.

He flipped the pages, reading about different demons. More about the boss of Hell, who the author called Luc, about a hellhound lovingly dubbed Beasty, and about Hell’s second in command, Zorun.

His favorite was someone named Kassel. He was described as quiet and seemingly disinterested, but also incredibly helpful, reliable, and ‘your guy if you want things done.’

There was something infinitely comforting about that. Like a pair of arms also held out to catch you no matter what.

He lingered for a few moments wondering what Kassel could look like, before shaking his head and moving on.

He read about the narrow hallways and warm chambers and fire. He lost himself in it, allowed it to take him over completely.

Until he stumbled upon something that seemed like a summoning spell. A chant to bring someone to you. A poem designed to call out.

If he could reach them, they’d be something Beau had never had before.

Someone to hear him.

See him.

Feeling the weight of his loneliness tighten around his chest, he ran his fingers over the words and whispered them into the empty space of his living room.

Barely audible.

Not loud enough for someone to hear.

Licking his lips and refusing to call himself stupid for thinking it would work, he tried once again, a bit louder, a bit bolder.

But not enough.

It was still just him in his house. Still complete silence and solitude. He took a deep breath and poured all of his longing into the words.

He just wanted to hear the clock strike midnight with someone there by his side. He didn’t want to see another Christmas arrive with nobody there to wish him a happy one. He wanted one memory, just one moment of someone knowing he existed. He probably needed someone who could get the job done, as the book suggested. So he thought of Kassel’s name.

He tried once again.

“ Hear these words, hear my call,

Demon from the underworld,

Come to me, I ask of thee,

To cross over from beyond. ”

For a split second he felt like nothing would happen. He expected it, really. Nothing had ever indicated he was right to believe in anything occult. It was just him and his desperation.

But the scent of sulfur intensified.

Beau’s lights flickered.

There was a breeze messing up his hair when all his windows were tightly shut. The book in his hands shook and fell to the floor with a thud, a glimpse of fire flashing before his eyes before the book closed itself. There was a ringing in his ears and a shortness of breath he didn’t really know how to explain.

And then it all got quiet again.

His living room was his living room once more.

Except for the gigantic demon standing next to Beau’s tree, countless eyes blinking down at him, massive arms crossed over a naked chest under a leather jacket. A strong, completely non-human, fully purple chest.

Beau looked up.

Focused on an eye somewhere in the middle of the creature’s face.

And then gave them the widest, most welcoming smile he could arrange his face into.

“Hi,” he breathed, standing up and walking closer. He wasn’t alone. Finally, blissfully, he wasn’t alone. “I’m so happy to see you.”