House of Darkness House of Light

by Andrea Perron

  Sure, there were other issues. Keepsakes were forever lost and gone but not forgotten. A serious breach of confidentiality had resulted in curious folks dropping by unannounced for a visit to the Netherworld. There were problems intrinsic to an association. The investigation they conducted did no harm to their careers. They were both transfixed by what they’d witnessed at the farm so this story became the centerpiece of many a seminar for years to come, by all accounts. Still, it was clear… they were not there for the notoriety or future fame and fortune. They had come to help. In some strange way, they did. They listened to the children and comforted Carolyn. Yes, she was physically injured in the process but then again, so was Ed… by her husband.

  First, do no harm. As the mantra of those who care for the sick and infirmed, the phrase likewise applies to those who seek out others under supernatural siege. Try not to stir things up. Identify the culprits. Never, ever provoke. Acknowledge and engage, if you dare. Crack the door open… that’s how the Light gets in. But first, do no harm. The notions are incompatible… doing so is inevitable. Harm is almost a foregone conclusion when inviting an unwelcome guest… feelings are bound to get hurt; elbows bruised, noses bloodied. All but begging for trouble, it came to their door and let itself in but only because the door had been left wide open.

  In the grand scheme of things, from the distance of time and space, it all seems to have happened precisely the way it should have… everything in its right and proper time. It took thirty years to tell the truth because the truth is unbelievable, requiring a quantum leap of faith. In the midst of harm, some good was done, as well. If human beings are in one another’s lives with purpose and reason then the Warrens were supposed to establish this tenuous bond with the Perron family. They were supposed to see what they had witnessed and they were destined to be the ones to spread the news far and wide, across the Universe. Perhaps the news will do the world some good, after all. Perhaps there are no accidents, no such thing as coincidence, in this realm or any other. All of them have been inextricably linked because of this case: a connection established, resulting in a convergence of events. A confluence occurred, as if ordained by God. What did they learn in class? They know nothing at all.

  ***

  Sequestered in a suburb of Providence, R.I., Carolyn discovered the real estate listing and thought, “It couldn’t hurt to look.” Yes, it could. She wanted to go take a peek at the Arnold Estate. What harm could it do? Prophetic words, indeed. Perhaps Carolyn was prescient, after all.

  “Don’t allow your wounds to transform you

  into someone you are not.”

  Paulo Coelho

  wrack and ruin

  “Eternity is not something that begins after you are dead.

  It is going on all the time. We are in it now.”

  Charlotte Perkins Gilman

  Peering in the mirror, Carolyn observed her features with new eyes. The woman had seen and been through so much, it left her weak and weary, though her resolve finally returned. She was in mortal combat with an immortal entity, actively fighting her way back. Imperative she return to her children, they were her best and only reason not to give up the ghost and succumb to the misery. At times it was mind over matter coping with the pain. She felt it in her bones from the inception; the oppressive weight of the Universe crushing and compressing her joints, boggling her mind over matters of spirit she could not control. Still a young woman, her body belied its actual age. It had deteriorated rapidly over the years spent living (and almost dying) at the farm. There were times when she felt like she was dying, and death did not become her. She longed for the vibrancy of her youth to return, the dream of everyone seeking the fountain to sip the nectar. It had been too long since she availed herself of what the farm had to offer… it possessed restorative qualities. As she’d grown disenchanted with the experience inside the house, she forgot to seek out Mother Nature for some good, sound advice. There had to be a path out there which would lead her home.

  For some inexplicable reason, a glance into the mirror triggered the visceral response. Carolyn was suddenly panic stricken, feeling trapped in a place which offered no real comfort, held captive in a physical form which was failing her. She was too young to feel so old. Paralyzed with fear, as if her body was turning to stone, she made a decision. This would not do. None of it. How to make light of the darkness… how to feel free again?

  As sore and stiff as if having been stuck in the stocks as some sadistic form of punishment for a crime she didn’t commit, the woman was still under assault. The battle had only begun.

  “Wrack ’em up!” Then into the stocks these poor unfortunate souls went, trapped and tortured, accused of being witches, one and all, then drowned for good measure to see if they would float. Atrocities committed in the name of God by the body politic, holy men who knew not what they did. Ridding the world of evil by perpetrating another act of evil, the devil’s foot soldiers marched on in pursuit of the wicked, in a holy war. On their crusade to banish the devil they became him.

  “Wrack ’em up!” But this wasn’t a game of billiards where colorful spheres bounce around in the green felt universe, colliding in space then falling gracefully through black holes tucked into remote corners of the cosmos. This was no game. It was real and she was in for the fight of her life, for her life. Carolyn felt as if she was falling apart; gone too soon… gone to wrack and ruin.

  Resenting the label “oppressed” attached to her persona by the Warrens, it was the anger about it which also prompted a realization. She had changed in inexplicable ways… she was not herself, not the woman she’d been before moving to the farm. For the first time in a long time she stared in a mirror, into her own aging eyes and older soul, as a deliberate act of self-reflection. Her husband and children assured her “something” had come into her body, if only briefly. Something hateful and mean-spirited tossed her across a room and into another, done with such force and precision it could not be mistaken for any other force on the planet. It was not an attempt to kill her. It could have easily snapped her neck if it wanted to, but it meant to use her to inform everyone else of its presence, everyone watching it happen in terror. Loathing the word “possessed” she had to admit to at least the possibility it had happened. A sense of urgency available to accompany her sense of direction, Carolyn abandoned the mirror which lied to her face and went for a walk in the woods. Opening the kitchen door, she noticed it was twilight, a perfect time to see everything there was to see along her sacred journey, one which would inevitably lead her home to her kids in the end.

  “As nightfall does not come at once, neither does oppression.

  In both instances there is a twilight

  where everything remains seemingly unchanged.

  And it is in such twilight that we all must be

  aware of change in the air—however slight—lest we become

  unwitting victims of the darkness.”

  William Orville Douglas

  this too shall pass

  “All truth passes through three stages.

  First, it is ridiculed. Second,

  it is violently oppressed.

  Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.”

  Arthur Schopenhauer

  The only thing constant in the Universe is change: it is, for all intents and purposes, all fluxed up! It is with this understanding that one begins to assimilate the adventures; the trials and tribulations called life. If and when we learn to acknowledge, observe and appreciate our own ignorance, embrace it as an opportunity to learn or experience life without reservation, we cease being such fear-based-carbon-units and evolve exponentially as a blossom opens, revealing its face to the sunshine which, in response, instantly brightens its hue. What a truly splendid turn of events. To everything… turn turn turn… there is a season. Carolyn returned to her family.

  The solitude had come to an end. She made peace with her tormentors and they, in turn never came to her again. Even if they had, she wo
uld have perceived them differently; the abject fear factor was gone. It meant liberation for all as a tenuous reconciliation was established… a tacit agreement to live and let die. As months passed many manifestations occurred, all benign in nature. The threatening abruptly ceased. If they appeared in form it was only briefly and then, no harm was implied, no fear incurred. It was the new day they had dared to hope for and it had arrived. Acceptance is a gift. It works both ways; exchange is a healthy thing. It began to show. Carolyn gained some weight. The color came back to her cheeks as her eyes brightened with the sunshine on her face. Interaction with her children became commonplace again even though the distance between herself and her husband persisted. He noticed the change as well, attempting to approach her, compliment her, acknowledging the progress. Still, she could not let him into her heart; the only sadness in an otherwise happy time. The attention and affection withheld from her spouse was instead showered upon her children. Her rejection of him had fringe benefits. He tried harder. He wanted to heal as well. It was too late. Alienation was complete; the contempt, too engrained to reverse.

  This too shall pass, he surely must have thought at the time. Her disdain for him was the only constant in the Universe, or so it seemed and Roger began drifting away from her. He too began becoming more involved with his children if, for no other reason, to afford him some semblance of companionship whenever he was at home. Ironic: the disintegration of their marriage would ultimately yield what had been sadly missing for the wanting children. It was a time of rapid eye movement… everything appeared to be happening at light speed. Manifestations came frequently brief, fleeting glimpses into the past. The girls were busy. Extracurricular activities had become the norm and schedules were posted and kept by necessity. Carolyn generally had a house full of company. The children found friends who accepted their lot in life and passed no judgment. They all had a healthy appetite for life and Carolyn’s cooking. The farm became a social gathering spot, especially as Nancy came of age and discovered how to circumvent the dictates of her mother: Disobedient heathen.

  During this time Fran began to mention some unusual pain, hoping it would pass. Andrea left home for college, reassured by a loving mother that this painful longing to return to her family would also pass. It never did… and neither did Fran’s pain. It would only subside with her death. Over the next four years a family would undergo a fundamental transition, culminating with the ultimate decision to forsake their farm for greener pastures. In the interim, Cindy evolved into a being no less spiritual than the ghosts, developing her third eye… growing pains incurred in the process as something sacred, divine at the source, descended upon her. She integrated in a way which appeared perfectly natural. There was much more to learn; more to see and more to come. Christine had yet to know the panic and pain of entrapment in a trunk… it was coming. April would endure unspeakable pain, ultimately resulting in the complete abandonment of a little boy she loved and Roger would seek his relief in the arms of another woman, though he feels the need to deny the obvious. Don’t ask… he’ll never tell. Tumultuous times lay ahead, my dears. Breathe deeply. The only thing constant in the Universe is change. In Time, this too shall pass.

  “Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood.

  Now is the time to understand more, so that we may fear less.”

  Madame Marie Curie

  The Soul’s Prayer

  In childhood’s pride I said to Thee:

  “O Thou, who mad’st me of Thy breath,

  Speak, Master, and reveal to me

  Thine inmost laws of life and death.

  “Give me to drink each joy and pain

  Which Thine eternal hand can mete,

  For my insatiate soul can drain

  Earth’s utmost bitter, utmost sweet.

  “Spare me no bliss, no pang of strife,

  Withhold no gift or grief I crave,

  The intricate lore of love and life

  And mystic knowledge of the grave.”

  Lord, Thou didst answer stern and low:

  “Child, I will harken to thy prayer,

  And thy unconquered soul shall know

  All passionate rapture and despair.

  “Thou shalt drink deep of joy and fame,

  And love shall burn thee like a fire,

  And pain shall cleanse thee like a flame,

  To purge the dross from thy desire.

  “So shall thy chastened spirit yearn

  To seek from its blind prayer release,

  And spent and pardoned, sue to learn

  The simple secret of my Peace.

  I, bending from my sevenfold height,

  Will teach thee of My quickening grace,

  Life is a prism of My light,

  And death the shadow of My face.”

  Sarojini Naidu

  “Be faithful to that which exists within yourself.”

  Andre Gide

  VIII.

  BLESS ME FATHER

  “Get thee behind me Satan.”

  Matthew xvi. 23

  The Warrens brought many people to the Perron home place, including a priest. No one among the family can remember his name, though there was a vague recollection about him having recently written a book about life after death. However, what matters is the collective memory of a family in turmoil recalling his loving, calming presence. He was a kind and gentle man who’d come to help. His soft eyes and warm words soothed and comforted the wounded souls dwelling within a house alive with death. He seemed to understand their circumstances from personal experience and was convinced he could assist in ridding their home of the spirits once and for all. It was not overconfidence. He was humble, a holy man of peace.

  ***

  Soon after the rumors began in town, there had been some suggestion uttered that the family worship elsewhere; not an outright dismissal from the church but rather, a firm nudge in another direction… any other direction. It seemed ironic to Carolyn that a religion credited with the acknowledgement of spirits and demons, development of the process to address their existence (through overt expulsion in the form of exorcism) would fail to support a family in need of assistance in this realm. Demonology has its roots and very foundation in Roman Catholicism and those who know the most regarding the evil ways of such tormentors come directly from the Vatican: a handful of priests who do nothing else but travel, investigating claims or suspicions of demonic possession. These mortal men do their utmost to rid the tortured souls of a presumed intruder, waging battle with immortal souls in the dark: Holy Warriors on a crusade to rid the world of evil.

  The priest who accompanied the Warrens to the farm was fluent on the topic. Experience had been his teacher and he knew what the Perrons faced was daunting, indeed. He went through the house and looked at the pitiful children with compassion in his watery eyes. A kind and gentle man, he and Ed Warren attempted to convince Roger of the necessity to act on the night of the séance. During that fateful night, he seemed as stunned by a demonic force, by the presence of evil, as anybody else in the room. Priests can be frightened, too. They too are mortal and when facing something as powerful and grotesque as what he witnessed, an intimidating force from an unfamiliar realm, they react as other mortals do. He was not exempt from the shock and horror of it. Bless him, dear Father, as he blesses those in his presence during moments of fear and incomprehension, trepidation and doubt. Ultimately, the kind man was dismissed from the house along with the Warrens and all of those who had come to participate; to witness an event of their own making. Calling forth an evil spirit through a conjuring that should not have occurred in the home, they had essentially asked for it. Be careful what you wish for. Roger was correct in his assessment as Franny had been right. It is hazardous to open a door one cannot close again. They were all playing with fire and brimstone, but this wasn’t a game. Too little knowledge is a very dangerous thing. Dear God, forgive them. They know not what they do.

  Confronting the spirits
in an attempt to identify and reason with them is similar to an absurdly mortal predisposition; an assumption that humanity is formed in the image and likeness of God. Perhaps there is some elemental truth to the notion in terms of sharing Divine Mind. However, it is the best possible argument for God being flawed and imperfect, embodying a marked proclivity encompassing good and evil. Human beings are so; even the finest mortal who has lived in good faith, kept the laws of conscience, practiced the golden rule is capable of behaving in ways to the contrary on all counts when plunged into a set of bizarre circumstances which test their resolve. Andrea spoke quietly with him on the front porch as the others entered the house. A daughter’s concern for her mother prompted their conversation initially but once he had offered his assurance regarding her mother’s care and safety, the eldest moved on into territory he hardly anticipated, asking questions about the Universe, the Nature of God Consciousness and the Holy Spirit. Her fascination with all things mystical and metaphysical captured his attention. It prompted questions from him in response to her inquiries. The gentleman thought this was a reaction to the episodes occurring in the house when in fact, it was little more than intellectual curiosity. The child had no idea what might occur that evening… she simply wanted to pick his brain for his own particular perspective and she gravitated naturally toward him, feeling safe in his presence, certain he had something of value to offer. He did… but so did she; the few moments they spent together were enlightening for both.

  She was just fifteen at the time though Andrea had already come to the conclusion that she need not seek God in other houses of worship, as she dwelled in the House of the Lord… a house of darkness and light. Good and evil. Spirits and demons. Her farmhouse was both a blessing and a curse. Andrea gave the man an immense amount to think about over a brief period of time. He could barely respond to one notion before another was introduced. Staring at the kid in amazement, she continued with the profession of a well-developed belief system, the basis for which had come from her powers of observation within her own home as well as from Nature. She reassured him that God did indeed exist. As such IT embodies the Universe and every conceivable element within… including human beings, for good and evil.