“Be careful, Carolyn. Forewarned is forearmed. You know what they say. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. The Warrens may be making promises they can’t keep.”
“That thought has occurred to me, too.”
“Do you know what happens during a séance?” Fran’s tone was suddenly so mysterious, understated in her own inimitable way. Hers was a legitimate, if rhetorical question, one she simply had to ask.
“Only what I’ve read about them or seen in the movies… fiction.”
“Unless you’ve experienced it you can’t even imagine…”
“Have you?” Carolyn was becoming more curious by the moment.
“Yes.” Fran whispered the word beneath her breath, as if afraid to say it.
“Tell me. No keeping secrets.” Both stopped what they were doing.
“I have participated in only one séance and I will never do it again.”
“Was it at your house?” Eyes widening with wonder, Carolyn could feel it as her heart rate began to rise abruptly.
“No. My neighbor. The group wanted to do one at my house, too. Zealots. Those people had no idea what they were doing; the unholy power they were foolishly tampering with… that scared me. What they unleashed…”
“What the hell happened?” A startling unexpected suspense overcame her desire to dig. Carolyn dropped her spade in the dirt.
“Hell happened… hell on Earth happened.”
“Jesus, Fran.” Carolyn’s curiosity piqued on a subject she’d long avoided. Suddenly she found herself wanting… needing to know more.
“Jesus had nothing to do with it. He wasn’t even there and if He had been there, He would have been just as frightened as I was… never again, Carolyn. I told those fools I’d rather live among the dead.”
“Tell me it wasn’t the Warrens.”
“No. College kids masquerading as authorities on the subject.”
“Tell me what happened.” It was not a request.
“You don’t want to know.” Fran wasn’t being coy. She was serious.
“I do… I need to know.” Carolyn was listening to every word.
“All I can say is, contact has to be made to convince the spirits to leave, and contact was made… not only with spirits. A door was opened that night, one they couldn’t close afterward because they didn’t know how.”
“Like inviting the devil across your threshold?”
“Exactly like it.” Fran paused in reflection, gazing into a painful memory.
“Sounds dangerous… but I really don’t believe in the devil, per se.”
“Carolyn, whatever you label it, there is evil in the world.”
“I know… I just can’t buy into the whole horns and pitchfork promotional thing the church designed to scare the hell out of us.”
“A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.” Fran hung her head, effectively ending this portion of their conversation. “I should clean up and hit the road. I need to take the kids home and fed… getting later by the minute.” Twilight.
Carolyn agreed. They gathered up their treasures and began the short walk back to the farmhouse. Normally they would chat about their finds but pallor had fallen upon them as a shroud. Both were lost in thought.
Before Fran left, she’d told a cautionary tale, issuing her forewarning.
“I won’t tell you not to do this. It is your decision. What I will tell you is this; what I saw was not of this world. It was pure evil. It came by invitation and it never left that home. The owners left it instead. There are things we do not understand and never will, not while we are here in this life. Ignorance is so dangerous. The people who think they know what they’re doing are the most dangerous of all. Believing in one’s own prophesies can be hazardous to the health of others. Before you do anything about your trouble, please be sure you know what you’re doing and what they’re planning to do. Don’t invite more trouble in and make matters worse. Promise me that.”
“I promise. I’ve already told them I really don’t want to do this.”
“Good! Gotta go!” With that, Fran loaded up her kids, placing the most prized jar wedged between her legs for safe-keeping. Her thoughtful words lingered in Carolyn’s mind long after her departure.
During that evening, alone with her memories of the day, she considered the specific messages received from a trusted friend, deciding not to pursue anything further with the investigation of the house. Considering how many “mere mortals” had intruded on the premises, infringing on her privacy in the name of enhancing their own knowledge at the expense of her family, the decision seemed sound; well-founded. Too many spirits… too many visitors. It had grown tedious and tiresome. Many months had passed and yet nothing substantive occurred. There had been no resolution. Carolyn felt confidence waning with the moon. She went for a walk to clear her mind of a madness consuming her from within. Everything became much clearer in the forest. It all made sense there. Nature had its way of speaking to her senses, a method of reassuring her, restoring her faith in humanity, even though she’d be the only human in sight. Carolyn didn’t go far. The darkness was too difficult to navigate. Wandering the relative safety of her own back yard, she settled into the garden spot and touched the Earth patiently awaiting its next chance to be a sacred messenger spreading the word: to reveal the cosmic secrecy of seed.
However, Carolyn was presented with yet another haunting dilemma, as if she didn’t have enough to occupy her mind. During a previous visit, she’d been generous, trusting to a fault, handing over all her historical records, all the documentation she had in her possession, research compiled on the farm and its former inhabitants throughout the ages. Notes she scribed in the dead of night, meticulous notes including detailed descriptions and sketches she’d drawn of imposing figures, entities, some drawn at dawn by trembling hands. Lorraine asked for access, gratefully accepting Carolyn’s precious materials, her home/work, with an apparently ardent promise to keep it safe then return it all to her in relative short order… but it hadn’t happened yet. Realizing she would need to meet with the Warrens once more, if for no other reason than to explain their decision to cease and desist with the investigation, she had another good reason. It was imperative that she retrieve these valuable items, countless hours of hard labor; not punishment but a true labor of love. It was highly classified materials, “eyes only” information regarding numerous up close and personal encounters. Carolyn had to tread lightly. It was important to her to reclaim her possessions, as a legacy for her children.
There is such a thing as expecting too much from another. Carolyn feared she may have invested too much faith in a couple who might be ill-equipped to handle the kind of trouble her family faced. Even well-intended efforts could wreak havoc, creating more chaos in her house. It was confounding to think about. Who better than Ed and Lorraine Warren to tackle a demon? Ed was certified in demonology. They had an extensive history, decades of self-proclaimed success on their side and a plethora of followers to back them up. As founders of the movement toward enlightenment, the original paranormal pair set the standard and wrote the rules of supernatural study. Investigations of this sort were synonymous with their names. Tenacious, diligent research they conducted spawned a whole new school of thought on the subject. They were headmaster and mistress of the dark side of existence, class perpetually in session. There was always another lesson to be learned, on a case-by-case basis. Mr. and Mrs. Warren were attempting to solve the riddle and dissolve a haunting, not by the standard process of elimination but instead by process of illumination. They already identified a main suspect: Bathsheba Sherman.
In spite of it, doubt had crept into Carolyn’s mind then took up residence. She resented the intrusion and would have rather spent her time thinking of a way to exhume the bodies of fragile glass from beneath an unforgiving earth. Sympathetic to the holy cause, which was hers, Carolyn truly believed it was their intention to help. To her knowledge they had thus far functioned fully in good f
aith, doing all within their power to banish these spirits from the house, to no avail. Carolyn remained concerned, disturbed by the amount of people peripherally involved. Where were these folks coming from and why? She could not avoid noticing numerous cars driving slowly, deliberately past her property and did not want her children exposed to such thrill-seekers and charlatans, those who’d gravitated to the Warrens due to their notoriety. The girls had been harassed in school and stopped on the streets of the village by curious strangers. Carolyn didn’t want her children encountering anything or anyone beyond her control, beyond the sphere of her scrutiny. In spite of her wishes, it happened repeatedly. They had all been through enough and didn’t deserve to be singled out for something they did not do and couldn’t control.
It occurred to her that an implicit understanding she originally established with the Warrens had been breached. Any dam with just a few pin holes will eventually crumble under pressure, releasing a virtually uncontrollable flood. “Damn it!” Even though she’d signed a confidentiality agreement, their story had leaked out, not been kept privileged: not kept in confidence, after all. As she searched her memory, trying to determine whether or not they had ever discussed this issue directly, she found her mind too cluttered to recall it, but Carolyn believed she had been clear about a desire to keep this investigation private. She felt certain that she’d effectively conveyed the message to them. It was an imperative for her family as well as for her own peace of mind. The assurances uttered had been taken seriously, accepted in good faith. It was a matter of trust. Though their depth of uncommon knowledge was impressive, their experience extensive, the ability to act on such understanding was still a matter of theory; no empirical evidence available. To convert their presumed knowledge into some meaningful change was in doubt, certainly the question lingering in her consciousness. Was it even worth the risk? Would it unleash more horrors in their house or were they true warriors, prepared to vanquish the space invaders with the mighty power of faith? The concept itself was an internal altercation she could not escape. Taming a mortal mind, one running rampant with suspicion took effort on Carolyn’s part. Embarking on such a hazardous excursion, one should know their strategy in advance, a route they intended to take and where they were going. Lorraine’s clarion call was their virtual call to arms in every conceivable sense. She’d promised Carolyn foot soldiers who would engage in a war of words on their behalf. According to her they were armed and dangerous, well-equipped with an arsenal of heavy artillery, prepared to do battle in the dark. Carolyn knew the devil would be in the details, in a drastic plan of action, one yet to be divulged. Were they to be holy warriors or mercenaries, infantry or seasoned veterans? In the end, it would require a leap of faith to survive the attack as a force to be reckoned with during the conflicts which ensued. If the pen is mightier than the sword, what weaponry did they have at their disposal and who would be calling the shots? Would there be any collateral damage? Perish the thought!
***
Her fear had found a voice in her head and would simply not be silenced. The fight of her life had already begun. Carolyn sat on pins and needles in an internalized torture chamber. The wounds she suffered were all self-inflicted. Dreadful anticipation was taking its toll on the road to hell, paved with good intentions. Destined to become a fight to the finish with a spirit in rebellion, it is never a fair fight when the enemy is invisible. Condemned to live like a prisoner of war, under house arrest, it occurred to her, she was captured long ago, upon arrival, the moment she entered the theater of operations. Destined to become a duel to the death, for rightful position as mistress of the house, Carolyn remained mindful of the truth. One cannot kill what is already dead, but she’d staked her claim and had no choice but to defend it or die trying to be free again, at last. Fated to the fight with a force in her house, the woman was well aware she’d been the primary target since the inception. She looked around the room, doing a quick inventory. The woman was truly defenseless. Spirits in rebellion carried torches. A demon in their midst may likely have a pitchfork at the ready and there she was, without as much as a hatchet left on a hearthstone. Not anymore. The commander-in-chief ordered it be removed. It felt like trial by firing squad. Boo! Who would open fire on her next?
Mrs. Warren identified the adversarial presence as Bathsheba Sherman, establishing the parameters necessary to stage a prize fight and the prize was a woman, her family and a farmhouse. She’d been quick to make promises then declare war while Carolyn was still struggling just to get her bearings. About to be thrown into the ring with the lions or fed to the wolves, the one in jeopardy sensed little concern for her welfare in warfare. Shocked by what she perceived to be the premature assault, actions speak louder than words. Carolyn was no coward, but an abject fear and trepidation which had become firmly entrenched in her mind was countered by an audacity or self-righteous overconfidence of a couple who felt secure enough in the process described to assemble the troops and declare victory before their battle had even begun.
“Those that are the most slow in making a promise
are the most faithful in the performance of it.”
Jean Jacques Rousseau
tempting fate
“The future is the past returning through another gate.”
Arnold Glasgow
Would Carolyn be taking an unnecessary risk by allowing a séance to be performed within their home? The more she considered the concept the more averse she became to the suggestion. It felt like tempting fate. Likewise, it felt foreign and frightening to a woman who was entirely unfamiliar with the process or real purpose of the ancient spiritual exercise. No one proposed an exorcism. No mention of the word. Instead, Lorraine insisted it would be an opportunity to identify then expel the offending spirits, ushering them onward to an unknown destination. Effectively ridding the home of their presence, affording them their chance to go to the Light; according to the kids the spirits were the Light, already at their intended destination. The children had adjusted to crowded quarters in shared space. Acceptance is the key to successfully living with the dead.
Ed repeatedly mentioned an ongoing affiliation with the Roman Catholic Church regarding matters of demonic possession. They asked that a priest become involved, a holy endorsement of sorts, although Carolyn found it ironic that the church from which her family had been all but expelled was their original source for most information on the subject; supposedly the saving grace. A belief in demons is deeply rooted in Catholicism. Satan as the personification of evil incarnate is reportedly a fallen angel. In historical terms it was rather convoluted; someone who journeyed to heaven then later founded hell. Thus was established an infamous power struggle between good and evil: a core conflict between juxtaposed forces as the foundation of a religion built squarely upon the implicit threat of eternal damnation, one used primarily for purposes of crowd control. Banishment from the embrace of the loving God; plunged upon the spikes of a pitchfork in holy hell. It was all too simplistic, far too insulting for any intelligent human being to abide. It was not the route Carolyn wanted to take to achieve the resolution she sought, yet it appeared to be her only option. It was certainly not a question of wanting to be rid of the ghastly ghosts. She had longed to be free of this intrusion, the torment of threat. As for them, she didn’t give a damn where they went as long as it was far away from her family. Bathsheba could burn in hell, for all she cared.
Her mind was in overdrive through hyperspace, traveling at light speed. If God is, as the church dictates, omnipotent as well as omnipresent and omniscient, then how could a devil possibly have any power or control? It was an entirely incongruous concept to the woman. If God possesses the unlimited powers of creation, retaining infinite authority, present everywhere simultaneously as the creator of all things, wouldn’t it mean God had created His own opposing force? Shouldn’t acknowledgement of an equivalent force be considered sacrilegious? Awareness and understanding was ephemeral. A brilliant woman struggled with these
notions. This condemnation she and her family encountered was an intolerant message received, loud and clear. Yet, there she was, wondering what these other Catholics would do for her now. An acrimonious relationship with the church had resulted in her bad attitude: not so certain she wanted their help after all. Perhaps it would be best to look on the bright side of life rather than peering into the darkest depths of death.
Peace and quiet. It was all she desired. Carolyn could not help but wonder if it was her fate. Tranquility was elusive. Serenity seemed quite impossible to achieve. As if a whirling dervish were dancing in her consciousness it was inexhaustible, no matter how tired she remained. Was a reunion with Ed and Lorraine an act of God, meant-to-be, a divine intention manifesting in form? Weren’t they the conduit as divine intervention? Had they been a blessing or a curse? Perhaps it was God who had sent them to her, as that loving deity, attempting to exert some control over this situation in which she felt trapped and powerless to create a positive outcome. Perhaps this was, after all, an act of Divine Providence. Or was an intervention essentially corporeal in nature? Confusion drew her to the public library, a gravitational pull toward needed understanding. There she began to reacquaint herself, pursuing philosophy, epistemology and cosmology, where she had endeavored to comprehend the structure of the Universe regarding space and time and causality. A greater sense of freedom began to re-emerge. Carolyn investigated the origins and limits of mortality as she delved deeply into human nature and methods of mankind, seeking the tangible results from an ethereal process: sacred study broadening her already labile mind. Intense fear began to subside. Pouring through the bevy of books on these subjects, she’d begun to reinterpret their presence as a form of Grace under fire. Essentially, they were her only hope. Their intention was something sacred. She could only pray they knew what they were doing. God, help them. On the verge of engaging in mortal combat with an immortal entity, Carolyn began preparing herself for a holy war with an unholy adversary. It was for the love of her children that she would forge ahead and battle on… but it wasn’t a fair fight. Hope springs eternal.
House of Darkness House of Light Page 34