by Loren Molloy
There was a huge ornate statue and altar on one far wall. Wilhemina said every inch of that room smelled like rotting meat. She was sure there had to be a pile of dead bodies from the overwhelming aroma but they found none. A giant circle was in the center of the floor. In the center of that giant circle was another one, but this one was dug even deeper, and at the center of that circle was another one even deeper than the last. She said the floor of each circle seemed to be made of copper. There were symbols scribbled around each circle and each circle seemed to have different scribbles than the circle before it. None of the symbols seemed to be a duplication from the circle above it, but none looked like anything she had ever seen before. She said it looked like dried blood was at the bottom of the third circle, the deepest circle. It looked as if it was done so repeatedly, it was permanently stained that way.
There was a huge black claw-like pedestal in the last circle as well with a book on it. She said the book looked ancient. It was a yellow-golden color that looked like it was made from different kinds of old flesh. Each piece was a different, variation of flesh tones. Each piece was also stitched to each other, making it look like a massive patchwork of scars and it had writing on it in blood red ink.
None of the symbols made any sense to her but she remembered there being a huge red triangle in the middle with an upside down triangle in the middle of that and both triangles were in the middle of a blood red circle. She claimed the closer she got to the book, the more the room smelled overwhelmingly of death and decay. So much so, she thought she was going to be ill right there on the spot.
It was then that Delia went berserk. The moment her eyes latched onto the book, she began to freak out. Supposedly, she just began yelling, ‘It’s not possible. I burnt it! It can’t be possible. I threw it into the fire.’ She grabbed the book, frantically.
Wilhelmina said Delia suddenly began acting like a mad man. She was also yelling loudly enough that Wilhelmina was sure they would be caught. Delia tried to remove the book from the pedestal but Wilhelmina freaked out and grabbed her. They fought and Wilhelmina was able to rip her away and force her back upstairs. She wrote that it was only when she kept repeating They’ll kill us both if we don’t get out of here, that caused Delia to comply, even in the slightest.”
“Oh my God,” Lily murmured in shock.
John had already refilled both their coffee mugs and had made them breakfast while retelling the tale.
After the ordeal Lily had already gone through the day before, and the reaction to what he had already explained, she looked very pale and very worried. He didn’t blame her at all but the worry of her being any more upset made him need to ask, “You know the story can only get worse from here right?” John said.
Lily nodded and gestured for him to continue talking while she was chewing her toast.
“Okay...so they are back in her bedroom and Delia freaks out that the book was in her husband’s possession when he died. She claimed that when that book appeared at the hospital in London all sorts of things went bad, and she was convinced it was because of that book. Supposedly, Charles always kept an eye on it. He kept it with him until the last fateful day her husband died.
Wilhelmina said Delia was frantic and hysterical. She couldn’t stop pacing back and forth in the room, from one wall back to the other and back again, over and over again. She said she was sure it was the book’s fault and that’s why she had thrown the book into the roaring fireplace. She claimed her husband had clasped that book so tightly, she had to break his fingers just to pry it out of his cold lifeless, hands. She was sure she saw the book burning when she blacked out from all the stress. Delia was also positive it was the exact same book as the one she threw in the fire.”
“No way. There could be many books that look like that,” Lily said quietly.
John could see those gears turning at rapid speed.
“Just something about the description of the book made me think of that soliloquy Delia kept repeating to me.”
“Oh yeah? What was that?” John asked curiously.
“And I quote, ‘Don’t you see I am a map of scars? Under this skin, under this flesh, a book of scars tell the story of my life. I’m like a patchwork quilt but nothing so pretty or so neat. Each scar is a story. Each story leads to another scar and another story. The story is never complete. It will never be complete. I am the storyteller of pain.’ John this all started because I was sure she was possessed not mentally ill. What if...”
“What if what, Sugarplum?” John asked
“What if it’s the demon speaking through her. What if the demon speaking through Delia is the controller of the book or something? ‘Under this skin, a book of scars tells the story of my life.’ The book is actual skin stitched together looking like scars. Delia’s husband only began having problems when that book arrived and Charles wanted it! Now Delia’s husband is dead, Delia, herself, is possessed but claimed mad, and Charles has that book here in our town.
Obviously, Charles is working with the Head of Asylums for some reason and they are using that evil book for their own purposes. Edwardo never acted like that until after Delia arrived. It doesn’t make sense though. Why did anything start happening now? I’ve been working here for many years. This is the first sign of any of this, in all my years at the hospital...hospital?! Oh my God the hospital, I never even called in! Oh my-”
“Stop! Relax. The hospital called here around 5 this morning. You were sound asleep. It was your boss Dr. Rushfeld, saying for you to stay home and recover. Old Max gave me orders to stay with you ‘on protection duty’, so he was relieved when he heard me answer your phone. Your boss and my boss both agreed. I’m to stay with you for the next 24 hours at least. He said to tell you he’s glad you’re safe and alive and your highest priority is to get well. So not to worry. You’re home sick today,” John said with a wink and a coy chuckle.
“Oh thank goodness!” Lily said with a sigh of relief, flopping down on the couch again.
John was standing in front of her with his hands on his hips smiling seductively at her. Lily could see his desire for her growing as he looked at her, leaving her shuttering with lust.
“Mmmh, baby.” John couldn’t help it.
He laid down on top of her and kissed her passionately for quite some time before Lily’s arm protested.
Sitting up John sighed. ’She drove him mad in all the right ways,’ he thought and sighed once more before double checking that he hadn’t hurt her stitches.
“Ok... back to the book and Delia.” John said with a pointed look.
Lily blushed and chuckled.
“You started it,” she said coyly
“Mmmmh. Yes I did and will do so again very soon,” John said huskily with a wink and leaned down toward her again.
After another quick kiss, he sat up and said, “Remember that Ouija board and that blood red candle?”
“Oh no... they didn’t?! They weren’t actually that stupid as to mess with a Ouija board were they?”
“Of course they were!” John said in disgust. Wilhelmina wrote that a few days later, Delia reappeared at her window, this time with that Ouija board in hand.”
Lilian just groaned in disgust and flopped her head onto her arm and hissed in pain.
“Stupid wound!” She grumbled. “Ok, so what did the idiots do exactly?” Lilian said in contempt. She was taught you never mess with something like that especially something you don’t understand.
“Turns out, Delia had ripped out a page from that book and decided to light a blood red candle, recite the spell in a language she couldn’t understand, over the Ouija board and of course only after they had already said “Hello” to the Ouija.
One thing I know from my days in New Orleans is you never mess with a Ouija board. Anything could come through. I definitely know you should never say “Hello” openly to a Ouija board. Oh, and the blood red candle came from that secret room. All such stupid moves to make! In the diary Wilhelmina
tried several times to get Delia to stop-”
“Obviously to no avail!” Lilian said very droll.
“Yeah that’s for sure. Wilhelmina claimed she was sure Delia was drugged up and very drunk.”
“Yeah! You would freaking have to be, to think any of that plan would be smart at all! What did she hope to accomplish by such an asinine plan?”
“I’m not sure if Delia had any idea but supposedly after saying whatever spell it was she sliced her palm open-”
“Sliced open her palm?! Oh my God. What the hell is wrong with this girl? Like a blood red candle and Ouija board isn’t foolish enough, she added her own blood to it?! That’s pure madness! Maybe she does belong at the asylum,” Lily said sarcastically.
“Yeah, she sliced her hand opened and then placed her bloody palm onto the planchette-”
“Wait, sorry...the what?” Lily asked confused
“Oh, planchette? It’s the name of that little board, usually wooden, that people touch, which moves around the Ouija board below it. It’s French for little plank.”
“Huh! See you learn something new every day! Planchette... that’s definitely going be the word of the day.”
John laughed happily. It was an awesome moment for him. He knew something the brilliant Dr. SinClair did not and she was happy to learn something new. So many people get weirdly defensive for not knowing something. This woman was brilliant enough to be happy to learn something new without any negative reactions.
“So what happened when she touched the planchette with her now bloody palm?” Lilian said with emphasis on the new word she learned, smiling at him.
“Well, moments after she touched the planchette, she made a sound that Wilhelmina thought sounded like someone’s last breath. She called it a gasping breath of death. Wilhemina claims Delia’s head lifted high toward the ceiling until the back of her head seemed to touch the nape of her neck. Wilhelmina cried out to her several times but Delia never reacted to it. She just suddenly looked down and locked eyes with Wilhelmina. It gets creepier.
“Creepier?”
“Yeah. The moment they locked eyes, Delia’s arm and the planchette she was still touching moved violently back and forth across the Ouija board. Wilhelmina said Delia’s eyes were black pools of death and her mouth was hanging open as if her jaw was completely unhinged. Delia and the planchette were moving so haphazardly, violently, and fast, Wilhelmina began to scream ’Stop’ over and over again. The sight of Delia’s unhinged jaw swinging was becoming too much for her senses. With one final bellow, Wilhelmina yelled ‘For God’s sake STOP’.
Delia stopped instantaneously and with her black eyes locked on Wilhelmina, she began to speak in a language Wilhelmina never heard before. Worse even, Delia was speaking with her jaw still completely unhinged and the jaw itself was not moving. It was like the voice and jaw were suddenly two separate entities and one didn’t need the other any longer. Wilhelmina said the voice sounded nothing like her dear friend. She felt the words that the voice was saying like burning hot tar on her skin.
She was terrified and Delia wouldn’t stop speaking. The energy from it was building and Wilhelmina began to writhe from the pain of the words being said. Delia had the planchette still connected to the board with one hand and the blood red candle held in the other. The wax was melting down her hand and onto the board and spell below. Delia’s demonic voice roared some strange word, loudly and suddenly this powdery black substance poured out from the center of the spell page, which she had ripped from that book, and went right down Delia’s still unhinged throat.
Moments after the weird black substances had finished pouring down her throat, there was the most intense boom of energy, sending the Ouija board shooting from view. This loud and terrible activity attracted the attention of the household. Wilhelmina wrote that she could hear voices calling out to her and the sounds of smashing and bashing coming from what sounded like miles away. It really was her father and the Butler smashing in her bedroom door not two feet from her. The Butler had retrieved the father from his activities the minute Delia arrived on the property, it turns out.
When they found the two of them, supposedly Delia locked eyes with Wilhelmina’s father and said,
‘I am the storyteller of Pain. We warned you payment is long overdue and we told you soon we would choose for you. We are happy to have made you finally begin to pay your debt of souls to us. This sacrifice pleases us. What has begun cannot be undone until the last one has had its fun and I am only number One with twelve more yet to come. One by one, they will now be here to feed on what souls love and what they fear.’
‘Why her?” Wilhelmina exclaimed in terror and heartbreak.
’She recognized us. She once tried to kill us. She didn’t succeed. We have. Now she is ours. A new storyteller of pain in living flesh... for now. Then she will become a new chapter in our book. Just another page in my story. I am the Storyteller of Pain and her story is delicious and delightfully entertaining. She will make a great chapter for us one day soon,’ the voice cackled menacingly and low.
Wilhelmina screamed “No” loudly at Delia, which, in turn, caused the entity to roar so forcefully at her, the energy actually slammed Wilhelmina into the adjacent wall.
Wilhelmina wrote that when she looked up from the floor, where she had been thrown, she could see Delia’s face start craning up towards the ceiling again. That same breath of death, as Wilhelmina called it, happened as Delia’s eyes were scanning the ceiling. Her eyes seemed to be going back to their natural color and her jaw was moving back into its natural position with some very sickening cracking sounds. After a few seconds, Delia collapsed onto the floor. The candle went out, instantaneously leaving the room dark and eerily silent.
Supposedly, the father called out Delia’s name in fear, with no response. He bellowed it a second time adding, ’Answer me this minute, damn it!’ To which Delia sat up like a spring, like a windup toy. She looked at him and said, ‘Don’t you see, I am a map of scars? Under this skin, under this flesh a book of scars tells the story of my life. I’m like a patchwork quilt but nothing so pretty or so neat. Each scar is a story. Each story leads to another scar and another story. The story is never complete. It will never be complete. I am the storyteller of pain.’ Delia then sat motionless, smiling like a Cheshire cat.
“Holy Shit!” Lily said with a hand over her mouth in horror.
John just stared at her for a few moments letting all that sink in.
“ And 12 more to come,” John said in a shushed tone filled with dread.
“Well, maybe 11 now,” Lily said again very quietly with fear.
“11?” John asked quietly, gently taking her good hand in his.
“Edwardo,” Lily said while looking at her bandaged arm. “He said the mean man, the mean voice said it must have death. Edwardo said it wanted me dead and when he wouldn’t do that, the voice said it must have death. The first was the storyteller of pain and that woman’s life story was chock full of painful stories. It wanted what the soul feared most, pain, and it took it from one who tried to cause it pain. This one said ‘it must have death.’ What do souls love...life. It wanted mine, for some reason but it had already forced Edwardo to take one of the orderlies and maybe that’s why Edwardo had a choice. It already got what it wanted -- death. It just wants more of it!”
“Well, that means we have two people who are probably currently possessed with demons in Danvers and it will only be getting more. Doesn’t that mean each demon will continue trying to take what they think is most precious from people at the asylum?”
“Yes. It’s the only thing I can think. It explains why Delia went after Abagail. Talk about a story filled with pain. It also means each demon likes something different and I have no idea how we are supposed to protect ourselves from 12 demons!” Lily exclaimed, completely freaked out.
“13.” John almost whispered it through his fists which were solidly against his mouth. He was just as terrified, maybe even
more so. He kept having flashback thoughts of his run in with the Devil of Louisiana. He suddenly was sick with fear. He swallowed very forcefully, making sure breakfast didn’t reappear. ‘Please not him.’ It’s all he could think.
“Oh my God, John, you’re right! 13 of them. All different types. FUCK! What do we do?” Lily was freaking out completely, pacing back and forth in a very short line. Few steps forwards, spin, another few steps and then spin again. It was making John even more anxious and terrified.
“We run!” John stood up breathing very hard and fast.
“What?!” Lily exclaimed at him
“Yes Lilian. We run! We get as far away from here as we can and never tell a soul why we left. We pack some of the most important things we cannot replace, get into my car, and go. We move to Washington or Wyoming. I can start a construction company up and you could see patients’ privately. When asked why we left we say we wanted a change of scenery, a new fucking start, a cheaper living cost...ANYTHING besides the truth, and we live happily ever after, together. FAR AWAY from this demonic shitstorm coming straight at us!” John’s eyes were wild with fear. His chest was rising and falling so rapidly he was breathing like a massive bear. Each breath, its own growl of desperation.
“Please Lily! You are barely alive after what Edwardo tried not to do to you and there are only two demons who are playing with the puny humans. We don’t have the slightest idea how to protect ourselves from them, not to mention Wilbur Wurthington and Deadly Dr. Page wanting you dead. Baby we need to cut our losses and go...NOW! Before anyone notices. Before anyone cares enough to stop us.
Delia was taken for messing with that book. For trying to stop that book, she’s going to become a page in that evil book of spells. Please baby...let’s go before it’s too late! I don’t know how to protect you from this. Bad guys, I can kill. Demons, what the fuck am I supposed to do to protect you from 13 of them, when I can’t imagine a way to protect you from one.” John was almost crying at this point. He kept gasping to keep the tears back but one tear went rogue, down his cheek.