The Resurrectionist

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The Resurrectionist Page 15

by Michael Gesellchen


  One of the spirits began moving slowly on the ground.

  "We must going," I said.

  I helped Reverend Channing to his feet. My soul had never felt so heavy. His love was reaching out to me, I pushed back with all my might.

  We were back in the city streets, making our way towards the only one who could help. A dark mist had rolled in like a bad fog.

  "Hurry, he's just around this corner." The Reverend and I turned into an ally between two buildings.

  "I think that's him." I said. The fog making it difficult to see.

  "Yes, I see someone, through the mist. Are you sure it's safe?" Reverend Channing asked, before terror grabbed hold. "Oh God William! It's the doctor, run!"

  Channing turned to flee. The chain attached to his neck clanged wildly on the ground creating a furious display of orange sparks. I turned to run, catching up to the Reverend and grabbing the end of the loose chain. I pulled hard, knocking him to the ground.

  I stood over the fallen, placed my foot upon his chest and looked into the eyes of the deceived.

  "You're not going anywhere." I turned to the grinning doctor who stood behind me, holding out the end of the chain. "He's all yours."

  The bony doctor snapped bowed his head and a symbol formed at my feet. The ground splintered open, I fell.

  Evil and sin are weights that grow heavy and finally pull you down.

  “Get up!” A voice commanded, its forcefulness knocked me back down to the ground before I could reach my feet. I got up, ready to demolish whomever dared knock me down. On top of a chariot pulled by a demonic beast rode evil, fierce and powerful. It had no form. Mist of black. A void of terror.

  "Demon." I said before a whip lashed out striking me across both cheeks.

  “Please, I'm begging for your mercy. Stop!” The beatings came harder each time I cried out to my abuser. “Please, master, I'm a willing slave. I was sent by the doctor."

  "Then you completed the ritual." The awfulness of it's voice shaking me to the core.

  "Yes." I said. "I'll do anything to avoid the torments of this place, to have them lessened."

  "You're a coward." The demon laughed. "But then again, most acts of betrayal are acts of cowardice." I hung my head.

  "The doctor, he serves you, he said you could teach me."

  "Nothing is free."

  "You must prove yourself worthy to serve me before I'll accept any plea bargain."

  The mist dissolved, giving way to physical form. The demon raised his face to look at me, half covered by a hood. Gray smoke steamed from its eye sockets.

  “Possession,” it said.

  “What?”

  “You must will yourself back to the earth plane and possess a human soul.”

  “How?” I asked.

  A whip pierced and wrapped around my torso. Broken mangled skeletal wings raised out of the demon's shoulder blades. “Figure it out!” A vile screech cut my ear. The demon flung me in the air with great force. I landed heavily back in the city I had been in before. Ashamed. Broken. Alone.

  An unrelenting pressure pounding me into a frenzy. I had to return to earth at all cost. Pain the motivator, suffering, the driving force. Failing my new master was not something I wanted to experience. I sold Channing out, an unpardonable sin. Every soul in hell is faced with the same harsh truth, serve the demons, or become the whipping boy. I did the right thing.

  I walked past a church. Something compelled me to go inside. Maybe it was the look on the Reverend's face when I pulled the knife out his back. This church made the Puritans look like the Communion of Saints. The priests had one hand in the offering plate and the other on the backsides of the parishioner's wives.

  "What's your name son?"

  "William."

  "What brings you here?" The priest asked.

  "Knowledge, spiritual knowledge." I said.

  "You've come to the right place. What do you seek to gain?" He asked.

  I hesitated before speaking. "I'm going to return to earth."

  The priest's smile faded. "You know that can't happen. Not until the second coming. Then, he will lift us up and guide us to his kingdom." There was no conviction behind his words. No belief, only lip service and repetition.

  "I understand." I replied and turned to walk out. The priest stopped me.

  "Sit for a bit." He motioned me to take a seat in the pew next to him. I sat. He nodded. "Stay as long as you like."

  "Where do I begin father, to find forgiveness?" I asked.

  The priest placed the offering plate in front of me, gesturing for me to place something inside. I reached in my pocket and pulled out my heart. The charm that was meant for Allison, and placed it in the offering plate.

  "This is a start young man."

  "Surely I can't buy my way to forgiveness?" I said.

  "You must be baptized, study scripture, and pay your tithe."

  "I was baptized. I studied the entire Bible as part of my confirmation class. I even gave ten percent of my allowance to our church. My mother made me. I still ended up in hell."

  "Repentance." The priest said.

  "I met a man here. He was a rapist. Vile and disgusting. He went to church every Sunday. He repented on his death bed. He became my slave." My penetrating stare told the priest I wasn't buying his philosophy.

  We exchanged icy glances before he got up and left. I stayed in the pew for a long time, thinking about all that had passed. The church wasn't for me. It only served to slow me down. I opened the front door to leave and caught the priest out of the corner of my eye. He was placing the charm, my charm, around the neck of a church member's wife. It took all I had to quell the urge to strike him down. The memory of what it stood for only brought me feelings of being human. Feelings I couldn't afford to have. A luxury not meant for me.

  I clung to the shadows and alleys of the city, wandering aimlessly, unsure of my next move. I stumbled into some sort of library, mainly to avoid a group of angry spirits heading my way. The same symbols I had seen in the basement of the lab and Corey’s house were engraved onto the covers of the books.

  I walked around the entire collection. There were books on every subject of torture known to man. Every book of evil ever written must have landed in this library. I didn't need torture. I needed something more. I remembered Monika talking about using chants, innovations, and prayers to summon protection during her communications with spirits. I wondered if such a thing could raise a devil such as I.

  A withered hand holding a tattered book reached out. "You're looking for this." The quiet voice of an old woman spoke. I squinted my eyes and stared into hers. I took the book and looked it over. "You're going to need help with that. You possess great power but haven't the discipline to master it. There's a black magician who makes his home in this city. He is powerful. He can help."

  I held the book in my hand, nodded at the old woman, and left. "I wouldn't go see him if I were you." She called out. I was puzzled, unsure why she would give me the book and tell me not to use it. "I know what you're up to and it ain't good. Believe me, it ain't. Horrors worse than anything known in this city await those who attempt possession." The old woman warned. My corner lip lifted revealing a stained jagged tooth. An evil half-smile to assure her I was in charge.

  I made my way to the magician’s shop at the edge of the city. The shop was a mirror image of the palm reader I had met with on earth, only this shop was foul and depraved. The air owned an uneasiness upon entering.

  “What do you want?” A low gruff voice growled from behind the counter.

  “I seek knowledge,” I said.

  “Good for you. Now get the hell out!”

  “How do I return to earth?” I demanded.

  “Fool!” He cried releasing a foul heckle. “There is no going back. You’re damned in case you didn’t realize it already.” He continued laughing for several seconds. I stood my ground and didn’t budge.

  “There is a way, temporarily, to return,” a voi
ce from the corner of the room made itself known. “I know what you're hunting.” A shadow moved from the corner to the middle of the wall. The book I held in my hand burned to the touch.

  “Tell me,” I commanded. The shadow instantaneously appeared directly in front of me. It was transparent. It had no distinguishing features, nothing resembling humanity. Its voice sounded like gravel being ground to dust.

  “You must be summoned by a mortal with a mind and soul as wretched and twisted as yours.” The shadow's breath reeked of decay and disease.

  “By the looks of it I would say you are out of luck. There is no mortal as repugnant as yourself.” The shopkeeper scoffed. I ignored his heckling and focused solely on the shadowy figure.

  “Let’s pretend then. Say there was such a monster roaming the earth. What would I need to do?”

  “Set your mind to it. Send out your thoughts and wishes to be brought up. Create a spiritual connection with the mortal. If they take the proper steps and perform the proper rituals you will be drawn to them. Like attracts like in this great and vast universe. It takes tremendous focus and willpower to pull this off. It’s not for the faint of heart.” The shadow instructed me.

  “Impossible, he’s too pathetic!” The shopkeeper let out a hideous laugh.

  “Save your opinions for yourself.” I said, turning to walk away.

  “My payment!” The shopkeeper demanded.

  “Payment! You didn’t give me anything!”

  “You were told secrets!” He cried. “You owe a debt!”

  “Tell you what. My payment is that I won’t grind you into a pile of dust right here.” I said.

  The decrepit shopkeeper lunged for me. I was stronger than him and held him at bay, wrapping steel chains around him with my thoughts. The shadowy figure stood and watched, not making a sound. Unfiltered evil poured off of him, compelling the shopkeeper to choke and cough violently. His body dropped to the floor and laid motionless. I didn’t stick around to see what was next.

  The difficult and lonely process had begun. It took months, or at least what I would think of as months, I really didn’t know. Searching for a human with a soul as dark and twisted as mine had left me exhausted and unable to fend off my attackers.

  Beatings and torment fueled the rage to persevere. With acute intention I focused my powerful will on being summoned to earth. During meditation a mass of dark energy appeared far above me, growing larger as it drew near. A bony, skeleton like hand reached out of the black mass and pulled me in. I was hurled through space much like I was when I was pulled down to hell. Within seconds I was standing in a darkened basement. The same symbols I had first seen at Gateway and in Corey’s house were scribbled on the walls surrounding the room. Three people sat in a triangle on the floor humming chants. They wore dark hoods over their heads. They couldn’t see me, but all sensed a malevolent presence was near. All three shook and trembled with fear. I circled around them, staring into each of their faces to warn of my presence. I looked hard into the face of the third. A diabolical grin slowly spread across my mouth. “When you play with fire, you're bound to get burned.” I whispered into Justin’s face.

  Chapter 18

  The chanting continued as I drew from the energy fields of the three practitioners. I could see the faint particles of liquid ether floating in the air and used them to create a temporary body, much like a space suit. Once I entered the suit it formed to my current likeness, acting like a mirror projecting an image of my current depraved state. I looked nothing like I once did on earth. The skin on my face was cracked, dry, and scaly. It hung loose and appeared over one hundred years old. My hair, not more than a few gray strands, hung past my shoulders. My teeth were rotten and my eyes black as death. One of the practitioners let out a frightened shriek as my presence slowly became visible to them. The process was exhausting and took intense focus to pull it off. No one could speak until the initial shock subsided. Justin took the lead as he had always done, having no clue that his former friend was the devil he conjured.

  “I am your master.” The cracking of Justin's voice let me know of the sorry state of fear in was in.

  “I have no master!” I growled back at him, the putrid stench of my breath causing him to recoil. A girl in the group began to cry. I leaned in to show her I was in charge, speaking with a low guttural voice. “You are right to be crying.” She tried to get up and leave but Justin forced her back down against her will.

  “What do you want?” I demanded, circling the group.

  “Murder,” Justin said. His confidence growing slightly.

  “That carries a hefty price. What do you have to offer me?”

  “This girl’s soul.” Justin grabbed the girl by the back of her hair and pulled her down. She sobbed without control.

  “I have no use for a soul that is already damned. What else?”

  Justin paused. “I will arrange for you to stay.” Silence filled the room.

  “Go on.” I said.

  “There's a family that lives seven miles out of town. The father, a farmer, his wife passed two years ago. He never recovered. He has two girls and a boy. The girls are away at college. The boy, well, let’s just say he's emotionally disturbed. The father is so lost in his depression that he's unable to look out and care for his son. The boy should be hospitalized but as it stands right now his mental illness is going unchecked. He should be easy pickin’s for possession. You can stay earthbound for as long as he lives or gets better, whichever comes first. His magnetic energy field is all you need to keep connected to him. It will act as a magnet that will keep you anchored to the earth. You can wander from him for a while but you’ll need to return and charge the etheric energy around your body. I have the knowledge and tools that can make this possible."

  “You have my attention. What about this murder?” I asked.

  “The boy is about to receive the help he's been unconsciously hoping for. This helper will no doubt recognize the illness and report it. The child will receive medical care and be treated for his illness. In that case you’ll be hurled back into the frying pan unless you stop this from happening.”

  “You want me to kill this helper then?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Justin replied.

  “That doesn’t make sense. What’s in it for you?”

  Justin licked his lips with his tongue. “This helper is also an inventor. He invented a machine that allows communication between earth and the spiritual realms.” Justin wanted Corbin dead so that he could claim Gateway for himself.

  “What do you want with this machine?” I asked.

  “What the hell's it matter to you?”

  “You’re right. It doesn’t matter to me. How do you know this helper will come?”

  “Because he's part of a group that investigates hauntings. He is very well trained. You need to act fast. If the investigation rules it a haunting there will be a cleansing. You need to be careful. You need to play your cards right. If you gain control of the boy, a cleansing will be useless. Your spiritual connection to the boy will be so strong that a cleansing will be unable to break it. That’s the goal. You will be able to remain hidden in the boy. The lines between mental illness and possession can get very blurry. Make them think the boy is just depressed. They'll make a recommendation for counseling or therapy which won't work in a case of true demonic possession."

  "Shouldn't be hard." I said.

  "There's still a problem though. If the helper believes the boy is possessed he will try to cast you out in an exorcism.”

  “I’d like to see him try.” I scoffed.

  "It's not a laughing matter. Under any circumstances, do not let on that the boy is possessed. If you do, it won't be good."

  I moved in towards Justin, my face an inch from his. "Don't ever tell me what I can and cannot do, understand."

  Justin backed away, his hands trembling. “Do the usual stuff. Turn off lights, play the radio when it isn’t supposed to, break a damn window if you have to
. Create fear. Get the father’s attention. Make him believe the house is haunted. Fear will open the boy to possession. Once you’re in, don’t let on that the boy is possessed. That means no magical phenomenon or parlor tricks. No levitation. No super human strength. No foaming at the mouth. No weird voices, incoherent ramblings, or speaking in tongues."

  “How will the father know to call the group?”

  “Because I am also in the group. I will see to it.”

  I smiled at Justin, pretending that I hadn’t a clue. “You’re a backstabbing traitor,” I said. “You know, if you don’t play your cards right it’s only a matter of time before you’re standing right beside me in the pits of hell. Believe me, the view ain’t so pretty down here. Why do you think I'm agreeing to your plan? The more time I can be up here the less time I have to rot down there.”

  “Just worry about holding up your end of the bargain. I can take care of myself.” Justin said.

  “I won’t get caught if you don’t.” I gave the same evil smile I gave the old woman in the library. The girl screamed.

  Justin continued chanting and instructed me to focus my energy on the unhealthy boy. The ritual took several hours before I was standing outside the farm house. My first haunting. It’s wasn’t even that long ago that I only semi-believed in haunted houses. I guess I can take my doubt and throw it out the window. I approached the front steps of the house and passed through the door like a vapor.

  I stood in the entryway. The old man walked right through me on his way to the living room. Unaware the devil had entered his den and come to steal his light.

  The house was filthy. The trash can had overflowed and spilled onto the floor. Some type of sticky red fluid had run under the stove, attracting the attention of a hundred marching ants. Cupboards had become unhinged and rotted. I wasted no time carrying out my task of generating fear. I had become quite adept at altering molecules and atoms with my thoughts. My powers were enhanced through the dark gift that was still with me. I made the lights flicker. I created cold spots and breezes where there should be none. I even caused dishes to fall from the cupboards and shatter on the floor. The old man was tough to crack. In a way his depression had become his salvation. Isolation acted as a shell, a cocoon that protected him from reality. He was simply too damn depressed to even care.

 

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