Demons in the Details

I sit at my cluttered desk, surrounded by pencils, empty soda cans, and half-eaten bags of chips. I open my phone’s email app and read the message from my online course art instructor. 

Hi Class,

Last reminder to provide ten demons for your final assignment by Monday, May 20th. Please review the syllabus for details. Remember, this accounts for 50% of the final grade, so submit your best work. As usual, scan and submit a zipped file to me.

Good Luck,

Artesia Flood

Department of Art

Greenvale College Online

Endless possibilities fire in my brain. Demons, huh? Cool, I can do that! My enthusiasm quickly dampens when I realize Monday is tomorrow. Wait, when did she send this? The email is dated May 12th, a week ago. I groan. Why do I always wait till the last minute? Literally, the very last minute? 

I sweep the clutter aside with my hand and pick up a pencil. I pause for a moment to decide how to begin. I don’t have much experience with demons, creatively or literally, although I know some people who might be possessed. No, not really, but they are weird. 

I draw a curved line on the blank sketch pad, then another, and another as I immerse myself in the deepest parts of my imagination. I’m in the flow, and hours pass like minutes. 

I draw exaggerated, hulking beasts with sharp fangs, pointy horns, spade tails, and glowering eyes. Some hold pitch forks, others swords; some are clad with armor, others hold shields. All are set against a fiery background.

As morning rays of sunlight peek through the windows and birds chirp their happy songs, I drop my pencil on the desktop. Done! I review each sketch and admire the demons I created, satisfied that this is my best work, given the time crunch. Yeah, this should get a good grade.  

I scan each page to PING, zip it, and email it to Professor Flood. When I press send, I feel tremendous relief, and overwhelming tiredness. Now it’s time for bed. I’m exhausted. 

I awake, and through the partially opened blinds I can tell it’s getting dark outside. My phone says it’s 7:15 PM. Wow, I slept all day. My notifications show I have an email from Professor Flood.

Hi Wally, 

Thanks for the demons, but I think you may have misunderstood the assignment. You only needed to provide ten demos of your current projects. Please review the email and/or the course syllabus for clarification. Got to say though, they are pretty creative. 

Best, 

Artesia Flood

Department of Art 

Greenvale College Online

What did I do? I retrieve the previous email and read the words, as clear as could be: “provide ten demos.”  

I misread the words. It’s “demos,” not “demons.” One tiny letter sure made a hell of a big difference. 

The hilarity of my mistake seizes me with uncontrollable laughter, and I laugh until I cry. Oh my gosh, that’s gotta be the funniest mistake ever! 

Now I feel a little panicked. Maybe Professor Flood doesn’t like it. Maybe I should send her some of my other projects just in case, like my sculpture ideas, digital mockups, graphic designs, and process notes. I’ve done a boatload of work this semester, far more than enough to submit for the final, and I didn’t need to pull an all-nighter. I really need to pay better attention. 

I ponder my options and decide to stick with my demon demos. I spent hours pouring my heart and soul into it, and I think they’re really good. Well, actually demons are supposed to be really bad…so maybe I…hey don’t overthink it.

A low rumbling growl fills the room–a more terrifying, hellish sound I have never heard. My blood runs cold. A demon? No, worse. My empty stomach. I haven’t eaten for hours.

I exhale my pent-up breath and chuckle as I head to the kitchen to grab some crackers, cheese, and grapes from the fridge. As my hunger is sated, I feel a sudden creative urge, a need to draw, as though I haven’t drawn enough already this weekend.   

I return to my desk, pick up a pencil and fresh sheet on my sketch pad, and draw. A figure takes shape, a goofy, cartoonish little demon—an imp I suppose—with a mischievous grin, holding a comically oversized pencil in his twisted claw. The demon is drawing a demon on a sketch pad, who is drawing another demon on a sketchpad, an endless, repeating image within an image, shrinking into ever-smaller, infinite detail. 

When I’m done, I hold the pad close and examine my work. Yeah, that’s good. I like it. I’ll call it “Demons in the Details.”  

Okay, okay, don’t flame me here. I know the idiom is “the devil is in the details.” But given what happened in the last 24 hours, it makes sense to me. It’s creative license, and I am an artist after all. 

Of course, the demons I created aren’t real, they’re flights of fantasy, figments of imagination, caricatures of myth, mayhem, and misunderstanding. I think they’re symbols of our internal struggles, mirrors of our deepest fears: the weight of failure, the silence of death, and the unknown mysteries beyond.  

Enough waxing philosophical. Is there a moral to this story? I’m not sure. But my frantic last-minute rush to action taught me a humorous lesson about paying better attention to things. Because overlooking small details can lead to big misunderstandings—and perhaps unleash a few mischievous demons along the way. rlooking small details can lead to big misunderstandings—and perhaps unleash a few mischievous demons along the way.