by Jon Olson
The demon stood in the snow.
Fergus saw it standing in the knee-deep powder through the small window of his front door.
“Don’t try to do too much out there,” his wife Nancy called from the kitchen. “Just take your time.”
“I won’t, don’t worry,” he answered distractedly.
“Amber might join you out there in a little bit if that’s okay.”
Fergus could hear his daughter playing upstairs and nodded.
With his winter jacket, boots and gloves already on, Fergus pulled his toque down over his ears and with a deep breath opened the front door.
It wasn’t very cold although the wind packed a sharp bite as Fergus grabbed the shovel leaning against the house. Ignoring the demon, he began tossing snow from the driveway onto his lawn.
Not much time had elapsed when a burning sensation erupted in his chest. Damn acid reflux.
The demon spoke. “It hurts, doesn’t it?”