Ritual Inspiration

September 6th, 2024

It's been so long since Milo died.

I've become a worse author without him around. My characters are flat, my pacing stunted. We used to talk for hours about the ideas that were rattling around in my head. When they stay in my brain, they just suffocate. But once he put his touch on them, they came to life in a way I could never accomplish on my own. He was my muse, my best beta reader.

And for the past two years, I've written nothing of worth. I miss him so much.

That's why I've resolved myself to fix this situation, whatever the consequences.

I've come to possess a book which contains, or alleges to contain, a method to speak to the dead. The actual ritual is fairly simple, and in all honesty I've never been a particularly superstitious man. But the book was given to me by a friend. One who assures me it has worked for him personally. He tells me he spoke to his mother, who told him where she hid her old jewelry. And he seemed to spend his money like a man who had recently come into a windfall, which bolstered his narrative.

I don't entirely expect it to work, if I'm speaking frankly. A mirror, some salt, seven red candles, and a memento connected to the person? It doesn't even include any arcane chanting or Latin phrases to utter aloud. If anything, it seems too simple. Like the sort of thing that would be more commonly used, if it's that easy. But, I might as well give it a try.

September 7th, 2024

It worked so much better than expected.

I performed the ritual last night in my bedroom, since it has a full length mirror mounted on one wall already. I surrounded the mirror in a semicircle of salt, placed the candles at even intervals outside the salt line. The book specifically said to remove all timekeeping devices from the room where the ritual is performed, which I assumed also included electronics like laptops and smartphones, even though they probably didn't exist when the book was written. There's no copyright date at the front. I left myself a few pieces of paper and a pen to take notes on what he said, as well.

I lit the candles, closed the door to my bedroom, and turned out the lights. Over a metal bowl, I held a small photograph of Milo which I had cut out from our college yearbook from sophomore year. According to the book, it had to be an object which reminded me of the dead which had existed prior to his passing. A genuine artifact. And I then lit it on fire, with the same lighter I had used for the candles. I put it down in the bowl, and watched as the flames consumed his image.

And then, I heard his voice. I looked up from the bowl and saw, in place of my reflection in the mirror, MIlo. He looked exactly the same as in the photo I had burned, a year or two younger than when he passed.

I will now transcribe, using the notes I took down and my admittedly limited memory, what was said.

"Hello? Who's there?"

"Milo, it's me! Casper, Casper Erikson! Can you see me?"

"Casper? Where am I? What is this?"

"I've summoned you from the afterlife, Milo. I need your help. My God, Milo, I've missed you so much."

"What? I'm dead?"

"That's right. Where were you just before this? Is Heaven real?"

"I was… It was just an empty place. Like grey fog in every direction. I don't know if that was Heaven or Hell. I was just… floating there. Casper, you have no idea what it was like. I'm so happy to be here. It's so warm."

"We don't have much time. The book said we only have an hour. I wanted to talk, like the old days. I haven't been able to write anything since you left me."

"You're still writing? I always thought you were a terrible writer. How long has it been? How did I die?"

"Three years. And you… you killed yourself. Overdosed on pills."

"Heh. That sounds like me. You said you wanted to talk about your writing again?"

"Yes. I need your input. No one gets me like you did, Milo. I've been trying to find people who understand my vision. They keep trying to change things that don't need changing. You were the only person who ever got it. You brought my characters to life, I could only write down the things you told me. I'm flat broke, and if I'm going to dig myself out of this hole, I need you."

"Is that all?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well. I thought we had something. You know the only reason I sat around and indulged you for so long was because I liked you. As more than a friend, that is. I thought you might have wanted to see me so we could talk about something deeper. You just want to keep me here so I can listen to you ramble about your little stories again? I'm disappointed, Casper."

"Oh. I mean I guess I had my suspicions. But why didn't you ever say anything?"

"Would you have taken it well? Did you feel the same?"

"...Yes."

"Are you lying?"

"...Yeah."

"That's what I thought. Tell me your story idea, Cas. Might as well, if you've gone through the trouble to pull me out of whatever afterlife I was in. I'll listen."

"Ok. Well the concept was a modern retelling of Romeo and Juliet. Star-crossed lovers, forbidden by circumstances from ever realizing their feelings for one another, right? Except instead of two rival families, they're from a rich family and a poor one. Juliet is an heiress, and Romeo is one of her father's employees. What do you think?"

"And where's the tension in that? Plenty of rich girls take trophy husbands. Even if she's marrying for love instead of practicality, what kind of scandal would that cause in this day and age?"

"Well… I guess I hadn't really thought about that."

"What if Juliet was a man?"

"If… if she was a man? As in a gay romance? That's a bit niche, isn't it?"

"Do you want to write popular novels, or good ones? Trust me, it's much more interesting for there to be some actual taboo in your Romeo and Juliet retelling. Especially if the male Juliet's family is traditional or conservative. If they expect him to marry some pretty rich girl, a female Paris, then there may also be an element of infidelity. As in, he's promised to this woman, but he's seeing a man on the side? Delicious."

"Huh… That's actually so good. It never would've occurred to me, either. Milo, this is why I need you."

"Of course you do, love. Now, could I ask for one thing in return?"

"What?"

"Tell me what time it is."

"I'm… not sure. A bit after midnight, I think? Why do you want to know?"

"I just do. Find out for me? I gave you something, so I just want something small in exchange."

"Ok. Let me grab my watch, it's just outside."

I left the room to grab my watch at this point. I returned, told him the time, only to find that he had disappeared. In the mirror was now just my reflection again. The candles were still lit, and the salt was undisturbed. But the second hand on my watch had stopped, as if the battery had been entirely drained. It was 13 minutes after midnight. I'm going to try to replace the battery, but something tells me it was a mistake to bring it into the room, and there may be no saving it at this point.

I turned the lights on, and cleaned up the ritual space. I'm going to start writing the story Milo suggested. It really inspired me. I knew this was a good idea.

September 5th, 2025

The novel has been a massive success. Romeo and Jules is going to be published soon, and everyone who has read it thus far has told me it's amazing. Engrossing. Delicious, even.

I never did manage to fix my watch. I took it to a professional, and not even they were able to get it working again. I suppose that was the nature of the bargain I struck. I'm glad it was just a watch.

My agent is telling me I should already be working on my next book. Something about capturing the momentum I've built so far. I have a few concepts rattling around in my brain for what I'd like to do next. But I need someone to bounce ideas off of. I might try to talk to Milo again.