The First Time I Attempted to Summon a Demon

As you may expect, the ritual did not go as gloriously as I had envisioned, but oh how the memory brings a chuckle to my lips. There I was, not yet A.V. Drakonis, still Ava, a mere fledgling mage hungry for power and prestige, my fingers clutching at the photocopied pages of an old grimoire—thinking that with a few words and candles I’d command the unseen forces of the universe. How arrogant. How naive.

The demon I had chosen, a Goetic spirit whose name I won’t reveal for your own safety (or because I’m EMBARRASSED, okay), was supposed to appear in full splendour, ready to offer me untold knowledge or whatever a fourteen-year-old could dream of at the time. Instead… nothing happened. Well, not exactly nothing. But certainly not what I was expecting. And yet, what a powerful lesson it turned out to be!

Picture this: I’m in my teenage bedroom, incense sticks burning like overworked factory chimneys, candles in every corner (fire hazard number one, my dear friends), chanting Latin phrases with all the confidence of someone who hasn’t the faintest clue what they’re doing. The air felt thick, perhaps with anticipation, or maybe just with all the damn smoke from those candles. But I was convinced… convinced… that something was going to happen. And so I continued with the invocations, eyes closed, waiting.

And then… there it was—a shift, a subtle drop in temperature, a tingling up my spine, the vague sensation of being watched from the shadows of my own room. That creeping feeling of dread wrapped around me like a cold blanket, but no demon appeared before my eyes. No voice echoed through the void to greet me.

Only… the sense of something, someone, lurking just beyond my awareness.

It wasn’t what I had anticipated, yet enough to make my skin crawl and my heart pound.

And at that moment, my bedroom door slammed open. Was it the spirit breaking into the physical realm? No. No, dear readers, it was my mother, enraged at the mess I had made. You see, in my enthusiasm, I had forgotten one critical aspect of ritual practice: fire safety. One of the candles had toppled over, burning a small hole in the carpet, and the incense smoke was now so thick that the room looked like I’d summoned not a demon but an overambitious goth club smoke machine.

If there’s one thing more terrifying than summoning a demonic presence, it’s your mother barging into your sanctum, demanding to know why your room smells like patchouli.

I was grounded for a week—not for summoning a dark spirit, mind you, but for nearly burning the house down with my overzealous candle arrangement. It was a humiliating anticlimax to my bold attempt at high magick.

And what did I learn, you ask? Fire safety, for one. Never leave your candles unattended, and certainly never use more than necessary for sacrifice. You do not need dramatic effect. I also learned the importance of proper ventilation when burning incense… Too much, I assure you, will make it difficult to maintain focus in a ritual. But beyond that, the most important lesson was this: magick isn’t about theatrics. It’s about intention and control. You don’t need to burn down your room to summon power. In fact, the universe will often make you look like a fool when your ego exceeds your skill level.

The demon didn’t manifest in the way I expected, and perhaps I wasn’t truly ready for such a summoning. But something did happen. There was a presence, a brush with the unknown. And in that brush, I understood the importance of preparation and humility. You can’t rush mastery—magick will unfold in its own time, especially when you’re summoning forces far beyond your comprehension.

So, dear seekers, learn from my blunder. Approach your magickal workings with caution, with respect for the tools of your craft, and always, ALWAYS, with water and ideally, fire extinguishers nearby! And as for summoning demons? Be sure you’re ready, not just in your heart and mind, but in your physical surroundings as well. A messy space invites messy results. If you’ve got all your gym clothes on the floor, you’re just asking for trouble and sacrificing your focus instead of your offering! Tidy up your ritual space before you begin to work—and for heaven’s sake, don’t burn your house down.

I got lucky. You might not.

Hail to the flames that illuminate but do not consume. Until next time.

—A.V. Drakonis