Short Stories

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Interview with A Demon
by Dan Blankenship


I imagine it’s not every day that an investigative reporter receives an invitation to have a one on one chat with a demon, but that is exactly what happened.

I was on assignment in Birmingham, Alabama, staying in one of those motels that most decent people avoid. But a writer first learns how to write out a budget. At least until he’s a famous writer.

A phone call just before midnight had awakened me from a pleasant dream; I was dreaming I was that famous writer I mentioned a sentence ago. The voice on the other end of the line sounded like my grandfather, if he were talking from the bottom of a well. “Mr. Blankenship, would you like a one on one interview with a demon?”

My first thought was.... Oh never mind, I couldn’t even come up with a thought. I was barely awake, and this prankster hit me completely off guard.

“Are you still there, Mr. Blankenship?”

“Yes, I’m still here. But I’m about to hang up now. You have a nice day!” I replied, extending my arm out to hang up the hotel phone. But when I was only a few inches from the base of the phone, it flew off the nightstand and onto the floor, all by itself, leaving me with the receiver still in my hand and a cord stretched out an extra three feet now.

“Do I have your attention now, Mr. Blankenship?” a voice that now sounded like Grandpa on steroids asked.

“Please, call me Dan,” I answered, trying to sound as calm as I possibly could. I don’t think it worked.

“If you stop shaking long enough to copy down these directions, I am offering you the most amazing interview in history.”

Grabbing a pen and my notepad off the round table on the other side of my bed, I began to write down the directions that the sinister voice gave me. When he was done speaking, there was a long pause before I finally worked up the courage to ask a question. “How do I know that I am going to remain safe? I mean, you’re asking me to meet you in the basement of an abandoned warehouse at one in the morning.”

“I’m a demon, Dan. How do you think people would react if they see us chatting in a Dunkin’ Donuts?”

“Well, can’t you appear as a normal person anytime you like?” I asked, thinking I had trapped him in a deception.

“And then you wouldn’t truly believe I was a demon now would you?”

“Yes I would, you made my phone fly off the nightstand,” I replied with a smirk on may face.

“Wipe the smirk of your face, Speed,” the voice replied, topping it off with an evil chuckle.

Only one person used to call me Speed, and that person had been dead for twenty years. David Hornette, one of my best friends in high school had given me the nickname because I could have wallpapered my bedroom with all the speeding tickets I had accumulated after receiving my driver’s license. And it was totally ironic that David ended up dying in a car accident right after high school. How the person or thing on the other end of the phone could know David called me that was absolutely impossible. I never told anyone, and David never called me it in front of others. He didn’t want it to ever get back to my mom that I had all those traffic tickets.

“It’s up to you, Dan. Meet me for the interview or remain a struggling writer for the rest of your life. And there is only one rule once the interview starts. Absolutely no use of the J-word will be allowed.”

“By the J-word, I assume you mean – “

“Not funny, Dan. Now unless you’d like to be beaten to death by a levitating phone, I suggest you wise up and take this once in a lifetime chance.”

“Can I bring my tape recorder?”

“No, your pen and notepad will be all you need.”

“Can I think about it?”

“Sure...time’s up.”

“All right, okay, I’ll be there.”





And that’s the story of how I ended up where I’m at right now, making my way down a stairwell that was it not for the flashlight I bought on the drive here, I would have tripped over the dead rats littering each step.

I doubt there is a living person within five miles of this warehouse. Scratch that. I doubt there are any living animals within that same range from this warehouse.

As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I am standing in front of a door that looks like it was built for the front door of a castle. It is at least twelve feet high and made of what looks like oak. It has strange circular designs carved deep into the wood. They look like ancient symbols.

The door has no visible lock. And as I began to push the door away from me, I realize that the door didn’t need a lock, for I was probably the only person on the planet crazy enough to even think about opening it.

I have my notebook and pen in a small backpack I am wearing, and as I entered the room I wished I had stopped to pick up some kind of respirator to keep in the backpack. The large room, maybe thirty feet by thirty feet, had such a repugnant smell that I started choking while using the flashlight to look for my interviewee.

“Oh my G –”

“I’d rather you not mention Him either,” replied the reptilian-like creature sitting cross-legged in a corner of the room.

The creature looks like a gargoyle, but it seems to fade in and out of existence like a bad hologram. It has fangs that reminded of the old Dracula movies, and a log tail that looks a lot like a scorpion’s tail. And for all of my initial shock at seeing this hideous creature, I can’t look away. Even though I should turn and make a speedy exit, I cannot. If the slime-oozing creature were to stand, I would guess it was at least eight feet tall. Its feet look like giant talons that could rip a man apart in seconds – a man just like me.

“So you have decided to launch your career,” he says, eyes glowing like Godzilla before that electricity shoots out of his mouth.

“I thought....”

“That this was a prank?”

“Yes.”

“You came here for what you thought was a prank?”

“And the slightly remote chance that this might happen.” I can feel my own heartbeat now. It’s going really, really fast.

“Shouldn’t you get your notebook out, now?”

“I should.” I begin choking from the horrendous odor. Suddenly, the smell of the room changes to a pleasant odor.

“What is that smell?” I ask. “It smells familiar.”

“Pledge,” the demon replies.

“Wow, how’d you know that is one of my favorite smells?”

“I didn’t. It happens to be my one of my favorite smells too, Dan”

I take out my pen and paper and open to my closest blank page.

“So, you are a demon?”

“Yes. I hope you have some better questions than that. I thought we already covered that.”

“Okay, how about this. Why are you letting a human know that demons are real?”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. That’s simple, Dan, I need the publicity. It’s no fun working this hard and not getting any real recognition.”

“Working this hard? What do you mean?”

“Well you don’t think I just sit around all day waiting for the J-man to claim his sheep, do you? I got sheep of my own to tend to. I also see them as fish too.”

“Fish?” I ask.

“Yeah, fish. The same way humans cast out some bait and wait for a fish to bite...that’s what my brothers and I do. We cast out bait, make suggestions, and give those little nudges that turn into big problems. Big problems, like when a fish is pulled out of the water and into an unsafe environment. I help make it so people feel like they are the same as that fish out of water,” the demon said, once again sounding just like my Grandpa on steroids.

“Hmmm....Can you give me an example?”

“Sure, that’s what I’m here for – a little more publicity, like I said. Yesterday morning, I saw a taxi driver who was angry at a driver who had cut in front of him at an intersection. I threw him some bait, made him think the guy probably showed him disrespect because he was Arab. Of course the guy who cut him off didn’t even know he had. But that doesn’t matter. Humans are always ready to gorge on the negative. I truly think the taxi driver would have shot that fish even without my nudge. But either way, what’s done is done. As long as the end result is the same.”

“And what end result is that?”

“Humans turning their backs on Him. See, I can nudge, influence, redirect, and perform minor manipulations, but in the end, it is when humans decide to reject His plan for redemption that I shutter with delight. That’s when I know I’ve done my job well.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Glitch.”

I wrote that down. “Your name is Glitch? Isn’t that an odd name for a demon, a warrior from since before the dawn of man?”

“We are given our names by the evils we perform.”

“And you perform glitches?”

“Thousands of them.”

“Really?”

“Really. Let me give you some samples. Ever been on that perfect date, the one where everything is going right, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, the wrong word is spoken, the wrong gesture made, or it could even be another man making a pass at your lady right in front of you. It’s a major “glitch” in a day that might otherwise give the human a glimpse of the paradise that awaits.”

“Why do you take joy in hurting humans?”

“I have only one master. It is his bidding I do. If seeing humans lose their souls pleases Lucifer, than it pleases me as well.”

“So, Glitch, isn’t Lucifer...ummmm...the Devil going to be upset with you for giving away your trade secrets?”

“Now that is funny?” Glitch replied, a bit of green slime oozing from the corner of his fanged mouth.

“How is that funny?” I asked.

“C.S. Lewis, Frank Peretti, and the other human...Randy Alcorn...yes that’s his name. All three of them have written about my strategy, my devious incantations, and my relentless pursuit to lead human souls down a much wider, and dare I say, more comfortable path. And how many have listened? How many have taken the time to examine the scriptures and what they say about my Master, about his henchmen? Not many.”

“So if my interview will not make a difference, if people still won’t believe that you and your kind exist, exactly why are you submitting to this interview?”

“I have definitely underestimated you, Dan. You know I can read your thoughts.”

“What am I thinking?”

The demon reared up, nearly touching the concrete ceiling in the room, and spread its war damaged wings, revealing the gaping holes that oozed a dark-black sludge. “I know exactly what you are thinking! You are going to rip up your notebook and never tell anyone about this meeting! Why! Why are you willing to risk death to cover up the truth? Why are you willing to give up fame and fortune so easily?”

I silently prayed that I would find the right words to counteract the anger and hostility this giant gargoyle was showing.

Then I began to speak, “It just didn’t make sense. The whole drive over here, I kept reminding myself that the best weapon the Devil has is that not many actually believe he is a tangible being. If people know there is a Devil, they will be more apt to believe there is a God. So why would a demon want people to know the devil is real. Then it dawned on me. You are trying to use this interview to start a religious movement. If my interview were to be believed, in this age of political correctness and rejection of absolutes, than it would only make sense that people should be allowed to worship the proven gods, the ones that cared enough to allow an interview – an actual physical interview.

“And of course, you knew that being a good reporter I would bring my tape recorder and have actual proof that demons do exist, demons that were kind enough, gentle enough, to be interviewed by a reporter. Well guess what, Glitch. It’s not going to happen. People are not going to hear about this interview, and they are not going to hear this tape recording.” And with that I took the tape player out of my backpack and smashed it against the wall, just out of the reach of Glitch’s claw.

Glitch roared with anger, and the walls of the large room vibrated from the noise. He began to move my way, every grotesque vein throbbing throughout the bat-like creature. I stumbled backward, fear was beginning to overtake me. But then I remembered that I had come prepared for battle. Reaching into my backpack I grabbed the Bible that I had brought with me – there was one good thing about that motel.

Yelling as loud as I could, I began to repeat the words that I had practiced on the way to the warehouse, “This book tells me that through Jesus I have been given the power to bind you. And it is by the Son of God, Jesus Christ, that I am commanding you to leave this city!”

At the exact moment that I could feel the demon’s horrid breath on my face, the room exploded with light and I was knocked to the floor. I heard a voice saying, “Have you not learned your lesson yet, Glitch? How many times must I hunt you down and stop you from your wicked tasks?

The room was so full of light, I presume from one of God’s Holy angels, that I could not open my eyes. When the light faded and I was able to find the flashlight, I made my way back to my car, and eventually my way back to the motel, where I quickly disconnected the phone, ripped up the entire interview with a demon, and climbed into bed, the black book that had saved my life tucked under my pillow.

To this day, I always disconnect the phone in the room when I stay at a motel on assignment. And, to this day, I always check to make sure the book that was with me on that night is with me wherever I go. Yes, I reimbursed the motel for it! Even if they didn’t pay for it.

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