by David Clark
The level of concern in Edward spiked to an all-time high. Other than the first few times he saw a spirit, he had experienced nothing that struck fear into him.
“Father…” Edward started a question, but was cut off with more information.
“You cannot let the fear weaken your convictions tonight. These creatures will test you, but hold fast.”
Edward pondered what he meant by “test” as they pulled into the driveway of the farm just four roads from his own. There was a group gathered outside, along with Sheriff Tillingsly.
Father Murray slid his Caddy to stop and appeared to be out the door before it even stopped moving. He instantly took control of the scene.
“Lewis, where are they?” he asked the sheriff.
In a tone showing wear from both is age and the late hour of the evening, he answered. “It’s still inside.”
“Just one?”
“Yes, Father. Last we saw it was in the hall. Had their youngest, Kevin, trapped in his bedroom. We tried to open his window, but… Father… it interfered.” The sheriff showed great disappointment at failing to secure the child.
“It is ok, Lewis.”
Father Murray made a beeline over toward the sobbing mother and father doing their best to keep their other two children calm. “Calm” at this point was just lower than hysterical crying. He was saying something to them, but Edward was too far away to hear it. They all crossed themselves and he led them in a prayer before giving a final embrace to the parents.
He started toward the front door with conviction. The town elders gathered outside took a few steps, but he stopped them. “Y’all stay out here. We need to handle this alone. It is too dangerous for everyone.” He motioned toward Edward and called, “Come on. We need to hurry.” Father Murray did not wait, and rushed up the steps and in through the front door. Edward followed reluctantly.
Edward stepped through the door and almost ran into the back of Father Murray, who had stopped at a table just inside the doorway. The priest removed his coat and silently blessed a red stole before putting it around his neck. He crossed Edward and then himself. He placed his right hand on Edward’s shoulder and said, “In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, Amen. Let God arise and let His enemies be scattered: and let them that hate Him flee from before His Face! As smoke vanisheth, so let them vanish away: as wax melteth before the fire, so let the wicked perish at the presence of God.” He released Edward and turned toward the hallway that ran through the center of the house.
“Get the book and cross out. We will need them for this battle.”
Father Murray stepped through the doorway that separated the front room from the hall. When his first foot hit the worn wood floor of the hall, the entire house gave a mighty shake that knocked Edward against the wall. In his attempt to regain his balance, he looked down to see large white particles of dust dancing across the floor. A glance forward revealed the source. There was a line of salt on the floor in the doorway.
The duo proceeded further down the hallway. Rumblings of the floor accompanied every step. Edward felt his heartbeat in his throat, and even though he was not claustrophobic, the walls appeared to be closing in on him as his breathing became shallow. A heavy darkness settled on him.
A growl emerged from behind the closed door at the end of the hallway.
Father Murray yelled at the door, “Kevin, we are coming. Just try to stay calm.”
The panicking voice of a child emerged from behind the door: “Ok.”
Edward asked, “Was the growl him?”
“Don’t be silly. That was the creature in there with him.”
As they got closer, the growling and scratching of a great beast continued. Father Murray reached for the door handle and quickly withdrew his hand. He retrieved a large vial of water from his robe and poured it over the door handle. The water sizzled on contact, producing steam. “Holy water is good for many things. Even cooling off a hot door handle.” He covered his hand with his robe and gripped the door handle. A grimace of pain exploded on his face. The heat from the door handle was still hot enough to sear his hand through its covering, but he fought through the pain and turned the handle, opening the door.
At first glance, Edward only saw a crying child sitting on his bed, holding up a sheet as protection.
“Where is it?” Father Murray asked the child. Kevin pointed up above the door.
“Edward, push the cross in through the door. That should force it to move back.”
Edward adjusted his grip on the crucifix and extended his arm. Before it crossed the threshold of the door, a voice entered his head. You are not a priest. You don’t belong here.
Edward stopped and Father Murray noticed. “Ignore whatever it is. Push the cross through the doorway.”
Edward heard what he said, but no longer saw a doorway. In front of him was the pasture that ran alongside his home. It was a nice spring day. He felt the warmth of the sun on his face and the smell of wildflowers wafted in the breeze. The sound of his children’s laughter approached him from behind. A dog chased a butterfly among the tall grass. Edward did not remember ever getting a dog, especially with Jacob’s allergies to pet dander. The dog almost caught the butterfly that time. He felt a hand grab his, but before he could look down to see which of his children was holding it, the image, the smell of wildflowers, the warmth of the sun, and the dog disappeared. Father Murray gripped his hand, forcing the cross into the bedroom.
The still calm that was the bedroom became a swirling tempest of wind and debris. The child was screaming, but the sound did not escape the room.
With no sign of fear, Father Murray entered, scanning each of the corners. His hand urgently waved for Edward to join him. With the cross still firmly extended at the end of his outstretched arm he stepped in. Edward scanned the surroundings and froze in place when he saw the mass of glowing red steam hovering just above the floor.
“Open the book.” Without even looking at it, Edward opened the book, and the priest flipped through the pages. When he found the one he was looking for, he pointed to the page, like he did that night in the woods, and ordered him to read. Edward looked down at the page and recited: “O most glorious Prince of the Heavenly Armies, St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in the battle and in our wrestling against the principalities and powers, against the rulers of the world of this darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in the high places.”
“You don’t believe this shit, do you little Eddie?” the voice in his head asked. The voice felt personal and strange all at the same time.
Edward ignored the voice and continued. “Come to the aid of men, whom God created incorruptible, and to the image of His own Likeness He made them, and from the tyranny of the devil He bought them at a great price.”
“Come now Eddie. You have always been one of my favorites. Why are you doing this? I kept you company all of those nights God and his many disciples ignored you while they locked you away.”
Edward shook his head to clear the voice out. Father Murray took notice. “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine,” Edward snapped back at the Priest. A memory stirred inside him of a recurring dream he had as a teen, but he pushed it to the back of his mind and continued reading. “Fight the battles of the Lord today with the Army of the Blessed Angels.”
“Angels are just a viewpoint. They are eternal good to some and demons to others. To some I am an angel. Why resist me?” At that moment his mother appeared before him. Not the spirit of his mother that he had seen many times throughout his life. The full living breathing version of his mother. She hugged him warmly. “Oh Eddie,” she said in the voice he remembered as a child. “This is too much for you. Why don’t you go outside with the others and relax? You look so tired.”
For a moment he felt very comforted, but the distant voice of Father Murray reminded him of where he was. Edward pushed her back and exclaimed, “You are not my mother.” The figure morphed into a mass
of red steam again. Edward looked closer and saw a humanlike form inside the mass of steam. The cold voice echoed in his head. “No, I am not your mother. But I knew her very well. I was there the day she died. I remember when you came running into the kitchen to find them.”
Edward gasped. A flood of emotions sent him alternating between now and the seven-year-old who found his parents. “You were not there. Stop talking about my parents,” he screamed.
“I was. Kevin reminds me of you that day. A wide-eyed child full of fear. You left too soon for me to introduce myself.”
Father Murray rushed over and yanked the book out of Edward’s hands. Edward could see Father Murray talking to him, but could barely hear him. He sounded like he was yelling at him from miles away. The only voice he heard clearly was the cold one in his mind.
Muffled in the background, Edward heard the Priest read, “As once thou didst fight against Lucifer, the first in pride, and his apostate angels; and they prevailed not: neither was their place found anymore in Heaven. But that great dragon was cast out, the old serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, who seduces the whole world. And he was cast unto the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him.”
Edward felt stuck between the here and now and the past. His mind’s eye only saw darkness. A dark void that the voice echoed from.
“Behold, the ancient enemy and murderer strongly raises his head! Transformed into an angel of light, with the entire horde of wicked spirits he goes about everywhere and takes possession of the earth, so that therein he may blot out the Name of God and of His Christ and steal away, afflict and ruin unto everlasting destruction the souls destined for a crown of eternal glory.
“On men depraved in mind…”
“Speaking of depraved in mind. Ever wonder what a child looks like burned from the inside out?”
The dark void Edward was entrapped in was replaced by a ball of fire. “Leave him alone,” he commanded.
“Why should I?”
“Why shouldn’t you? Why harm the child?”
“It is simple.” The presence circled around his body like a great snake wrapping around a prey. “I have to remind you of your place and me of my place in this world. It ensures balance and fights off chaos. You wouldn’t want to put the world into chaos, would you?”
In a strange way this made sense to Edward.
He felt two hands on his back give him a great shove forward, breaking him from the trance, returning him to the bedroom where he now lied face down on the floor. The push forced the cross in Edward’s hand through the spirit, sending it retreating to the corner of the room. Edward forced himself to his feet as papers and toys flew into everyone in the room.
He looked at the child on the bed and saw a translucent fire engulfing him.
“Father! The boy!” he screamed.
“He is fine. I need you here with me.”
Edward exclaimed, “The flames!”
“What flames?”
Through the wind, Father Murray struggled to take the two steps needed to bring him alongside Edward. He held the book in front of him. “Follow me.”
“Behold the Cross of the Lord, flee away ye hostile forces,” Father Murray declared in the room.
Edward followed. “The Lion of the tribe of Judah, the root of David hath conquered.”
“May Thy mercy, O Lord, be upon us,”
Edward responded, “Because we have hoped in Thee.”
“O Lord, hear my prayer.”
“And let my cry come unto Thee.”
“The Lord be with you,”
“And with thy spirit.”
“You need to chase it into that corner and shove the cross right in its heart.”
Edward felt a surge from within and moved toward the corner.
The voice appeared again. “Do you really want to do this? Do you really want to follow the directions of the person who released me and let me kill your parents?”
“What does that mean?”
“Now Edward! Don’t stop--” A huge explosion sent Father Murray flying backwards. Edward felt himself impacting the cold wet dirt outside the house. He looked over to see terrified parents running toward their child covered in flames.
Edward felt paralyzed on the ground until a few of the elders came over to help him up. Sheriff Tillingsly helped the Kirklands tend to Kevin while they waited for the ambulance to arrive. He suffered burns on his hands, feet, and face. The only wounds Edward suffered were mental and emotional.
Father Murray emerged from the wreckage that was once the child’s bedroom. He talked to Lewis and the Kirklands first, then he approached Edward, who sat on the ground where he landed.
“You lost focus. This is serious. We are lucky that the worst that happened are the burns. People could have lost their lives tonight. This is one of those spirits I told you about. An evil demon.” He threw his hands up. “You cannot lose focus while we are doing this. It is a war. And no, I am not using that word lightly. It is a war.”
He walked back over to the Kirklands as the ambulance pulled up. Kevin was quickly loaded up, and it headed off with full lights and sirens, with Sheriff Tillingsly’s car following behind it. The silence around Edward was a stark contrast to the debris field radiating from the shattered house.
Edward had not moved since they helped him up. He sat there pondering what the creature meant by preventing Chaos, and helping the person who killed his parents. It reminded him of the question he pondered for years: why God let something so horrible happen to his parents, people who were so good.
He stood up and walked toward Father Murray, who was leaning next to his Caddy. “I’m sorry Father. I failed.”
“It’s all right. We all fail. I lost count how many times I have in this life. Kevin will be fine. The burns have already started to fade. They are something the creature did to scare us, but they are not real, and will be gone in the next day or so.” Father Murray pointed to the house. “Now this on the other hand. Insurance companies won’t understand an explosion caused by a failed spiritual saving. Lewis will help document a gas explosion to get the house repaired. For now, they will stay with me, which is fine. I need to counsel them on what they have gone through anyway.”
He opened the car door. “Come on. Let’s go home. We have a lot of work to do, and you need your rest.”
Edward pondered the many questions on the ride home. The mental, physical, and emotional exhaustion took a toll. He just needed sleep.
When Father Murray dropped him off, Edward walked through the spirits that encircled his home. There appeared to be more this time, and they were standing closer, all facing his house as if it were a religious shrine. He passed through them on the way inside, feeling the cool chill and the familiar tingle of their presence, but paying no bother. He was too tired to and discouraged to even care.
Once inside, he locked the door and threw everything in his hands on the dining room table. Cell phone, book, cross and all.
24
Edward‘s walk into the school this morning resembled the trek of a zombie. He was both physically and mentally exhausted. To say the night before took it out of him would be an understatement. His path was strangely solitary. The normal greetings he heard from students and faculty were now replaced by glares, as people move to either side of the hall, clearing his path.
His talkative classes were silent and slightly clinical. They answered the questions Edward asked during class. A few asked questions on their own, but the warmth and idle conversation he had enjoyed was gone. Instead, the students looked at him as though he had a large hairy growth on the side of his face.
Lunch in the teacher’s lounge was even worse. Edward was one of the first in the lounge for that lunch period. He set up at the same table he had for the last few weeks. As others came in, they barely acknowledged him. They gathered at other tables or stood at the counter at the back. Edward could hear the murmurs of their conversations, but couldn’t make out any specific w
ords.
“Is this seat taken?”
“Sorry Mark, they’re all taken,” Edward responded, dripping with sarcasm.
Mark pulled out a chair at Edward’s table and set out his lunch.
“Are you expecting others for lunch?” Edward eyed the multiple wrappers and containers Mark pulled out of his bag.
“Sharon hosted a bridge party for her friends last night. Tons of leftovers. Hell, I don’t even know what’s in some of these.” Mark opened one container to reveal wings, another with potato salad, and then unwrapped an aluminum foil log with ham in it. Mark pulled out a paper plate and an extra fork and handed it to his table mate. “Dig in.”
Edward looked at the spread, and then back at his sandwich. The decision was not a hard one. His sandwich found its way back into the bag it came in. He took the fork and stabbed a piece of the honeyed ham and then dolloped out a lump of potato salad.
“Thanks. You sure you want to be sitting here with me?” Edward said with a mouth half full of ham.
“The back counter is full. Nowhere else for me to sit with all this food.” Mark needled his friend with his elbow. “Relax. It will pass in a few days.”
“How did everyone find out so fast?”
“Simple. Small town. Just don’t fart during the moment of silence anymore.” Mark dug in on the wings, leaving Edward to wonder what that meant, and then it hit him.
“Oh stop. I was six.” That event was a perfect example of the speed of news in a small town. He farted rather loudly during the moment of silence once in the first grade. There was a mild embarrassment at the moment caused by the half-muffled giggles, by midday nobody remembered it. When his mom picked him up that afternoon, she welcomed him with, “Hey there big guy. Heard you had a rough day.” He always wondered how she found out so fast.