Eye Bleach

by Paul E. Creasy

  “Ah…, perfect.” The voice said. “You know, purple is my favorite color and I have a small purple angel my grandmother gave me. I hold it every time I try to pray. I am glad you are wearing purple for me today. It is such a happy color.”

  “Yes, we priests do wear purple, but, only for solemn occasions, not happy ones. Purple is only used for confession, Lent and other penitential occasions.”

  “You didn’t answer my question, Father,” the voice said.

  “Oh…, what question?”

  “Does your stole have a special significance for you, like my angel does for me?”

  “This is a rather personal question.”

  “It is, but, I really want to know. It is important to me. Surely it is not a difficult question, is it?” The voice paused and then said, “Perhaps I should go, especially if you are not willing to be straight with me.”

  Father Hector said, “No. Please don’t go. It…, well…, as it turns out, yes, it does have a personal significance for me. I have had this particular stole since my ordination.”

  “When was that?”

  “Back in ‘76.”

  “1976?”

  “Yes…, I know to you that must seem like the dark ages, but it wasn’t that long ago. Trust me,” Father Hector said. “But…, back to Alyssa…, you seem to have quite a bit of information about what is going on with her. I need to know what you know. You obviously are a good friend and want to help her. I do too, but…, I think it best if we discuss this in my office. I can have Sister Margaret put on some coffee and—”

  “—Teach me to pray, Father. I want to pray for Alyssa.”

  “Oh…, yes, of course,” Father Hector said. “Do you know the ‘Our Father’?”

  “No,” the voice said. “Can you teach me? Will it help Alyssa?”

  “Prayer always helps,” Father Hector said. “Now, I will begin, and you follow along.”

  “Do you pray with your eyes open or closed?”

  “Closed, generally,” Father Hector said. “Didn’t your grandmother pray with you? How did she do it?”

  “Closed,” the voice said. “Let me hear the prayer a few times first and then I will join in.”

  “OK,” Father Hector said. He closed his eyes and began to pray. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in…” His eyes flew open as the door to his confessional swung wide. He yelled, “Hey! What are you doing?” All was a blur for the next five seconds — a screech, a dark figure, a black hoodie, a pair of hands reaching towards his face, a sharp scratch on his cheek and then — silence. The sudden burst of violence passed quickly. Now that it was over, he heard nothing but the sound of sneaker-clad feet running out of the church.

  Temporarily stunned, Father Hector sat up and caught his breath. His face burned, and he felt a trickle of blood on his cheek. Shaking his head clear, he scrambled to his feet and charged into the nave, searching for his assailant. It was too late. The mysterious attacker was long gone.

  “Father Morales, are you OK?” Sister Margaret shouted as she rushed inside and turned on the lights. “I thought I heard a scream.”

  “Yes, I’m all right,” Father Hector said. “I’ll be OK.”

  “What happened?”

  “I have no idea, but I fear, nothing good,” Father Hector said.

  Her eyes grew wide as she pointed at him and said, “What happened to your face? You are bleeding.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said. He felt the side of his cheek and added, “it appears to be just a scratch.”

  “And your shirt! It is all messed up and torn. Look, you even dropped your stole,” Sister Margaret said.

  “What!” Father Hector shouted as his hands shot up to his chest and he began feeling for his vestment. It was gone. He quickly turned and glanced back into the confessional. It wasn’t there. His face dropped. The girl must have taken it.

  “I am calling the police, right now!” Sister Margaret said. “Imagine, attacking a priest! In his own church, and in the confessional, of all things! What is this world coming to?”

  “There is no need for that,” Father Hector said. “I fear we are well past the point where the police would do any good.”

  Chapter 26

  April 30th, 1996 - Route 119 - 10 miles west of Pikeville, Kentucky - 10:45 PM

  “Are you sure this is the right way, Maw Maw,” John asked as he turned off the narrow road and onto another dirt-covered path. This had been the pattern for the last hour. Maw Maw had continuously been directing him up various unpaved mountain roads before suddenly pointing to another turn he had to make. It seemed to go on all night. “I could swear we have been by that last turn before.”

  “It’s the right way. I’m sure of it,” Maw Maw said. She turned to him and smiled as she added, “A grown woman certainly should know where she lives I would think! I may be old, but I ain’t got Alzheimer’s, you know.”

  “I’m sorry. Of course, but…, it is so dark out here,” John said. “Frankly, I don’t know how any of you are able to navigate these back roads — especially at night.”

  “It’s a skill.”

  “And here I thought driving in New York was bad! Everything here seems to look the same to me. It would be very easy to get lost on these old mountain roads.”

  “Yeah,” Maw Maw said. “They can be crookeder than a hound dog’s leg. But, you get used to it.” She laughed as she added, “my daughter keeps pushing me to move into one of them fancy old folks’ homes down in Florida. She says these old mountain roads are too much for me to drive, especially in winter. Can you imagine that?”

  “She may have a point. I can’t imagine driving here in the snow,” John said.

  “It can be a real challenge,” Maw Maw said. “But…, once these hills get in your blood, it’s hard to let them go. There’s just no place like home.”

  “Of course,” John said. “But, still…, with all these twists and turns, it sure is confusing. Do you make this drive yourself, every day?”

  “I do,” Maw Maw said. “And trust me, when you have to swerve into a ditch to avoid one of them coal trucks smashing into you head on, it gets pretty exciting. That sure gets the old heart valves pumping.” She laughed as she added, “better than getting a hot Folger’s enema!”

  “Oh my God,” John said as he laughed.

  “And hell…, I bet if I moved into one of them fancy places down south, my brain would rot away into jelly in three months.”

  John nodded and said, “you may just be right.”

  “But…, no worries now,” she said as she pointed up the road. “My driveway is just up ahead. We’re almost there.”

  John squinted as he looked towards the small opening in the trees on the right side of the road. If she hadn’t pointed it out, he would easily have missed it. With not another house in sight for miles and the moon dark, it was pitch black outside the car. He smiled at Maw Maw and sighed. He was glad they were almost there. His hands ached from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. Driving these unfamiliar back roads was a physical as well as mental challenge, and his eyes were weary along with his hands. He kept his high beams on full blast to help him perpetually scout the edge of the woods for suicidal deer.

  He turned onto the path and headed through what looked like yet another dark tunnel into the forest. The branches hung low over the road, making the dark night even darker. They drove for about two minutes, and after emerging from the tree-shrouded path, he stopped the car. Up on the hill in front of them, he saw the silhouette of a large farm house come into view. All the lights were turned off inside, but, it wasn’t entirely dark. A faint orange glow emanated from behind the house. As he started driving up the long driveway his headlights spotlighted multiple cars parked on the front lawn.

  “Are you having company?” John asked.

  “Oh, yes — a big to-do, tonight.”

  “I hope I’m not intruding.”

 
; “Not at all!” Maw Maw said. “In fact, it is most fortunate you are coming. I know several of my guests are going to be most helpful in your search.”

  “You think?”

  “Oh, I am quite sure.”

  “I hope you are right. I really don’t want to intrude, especially since you have been so helpful to me,” John said.

  Maw Maw reached across the front seat and gently patted John’s hand. “You aren’t intruding at all, dear. In fact, I think having you here tonight is going to make the party extra special.”

  As they continued up the hill, his car bounced and lurched over the rough driveway. It was very narrow, essentially just two deep tire ruts in the dirt, dotted with numerous potholes and shallow gullies. He had to slow his car to a crawl just to avoid destroying the struts entirely. At five miles an hour, it was a slow slog up the muddy drive. Land must be cheap here, he thought. When they approached the house, and passed even more parked cars, he noticed a Pikeville Police car among them. “Is Buddy Johnson going to be here?”

  “Oh yes,” Maw Maw said. “You know him? He is an old family friend.”

  “The clerk sure wasn’t kidding when she said you were the woman in the know,” John said. “I don’t know Buddy, but, I was looking for him earlier. Frankly, if I had known about you this morning, I could have saved a lot of time and come to your diner first.”

  “All roads lead to Maw Maw,” she said with a laugh.

  John spied an open patch of grass, parked the car, and the two of them walked up to the house.

  “Let’s go around back,” Maw Maw said. “I think the party is probably in full swing now. I want to introduce you around.”

  “OK,” John said.

  They walked around the side of the house. The backyard was enormous, a giant open field gently sloping towards the forest fifty yards away. He squinted as he spied figures standing around a circle of torches at the edge of the woods. They were too far away to see clearly, but, he could hear singing. Maw Maw gently took his elbow and directed him down the hill towards the light. When they were close enough for him to see clearly, he froze.

  “What! What the hell is all this?” John shouted as he turned to Maw Maw. “Everyone is…, are they…, naked? What sort of freak show is this?”

  “Ah…, the guest of honor has finally arrived,” a voice bellowed from the darkness on his right. “We’ve been expecting you.”

  John snapped his head around to face the voice. He watched a man saunter out of the gloom. When the stranger came into focus, and they locked eyes, John’s skin crawled. It was the man from the sketch!

  “You! You!” John shouted as rage gripped his gut and he lunged forward. His body was working on pure reptilian response now. He pulled his fist back to attack but stopped cold. Something flashed before his eyes. Now that his vision was adjusted to the darkness, he could clearly see the whole scene around the torchlit circle. His muscles froze as his eyes widened. He staggered backward, nearly falling. “What! What! What in God’s name is happening here?” he shrieked. “This can’t be real! This can’t be happening!”

  “And they have built the high places of Topheth, which is in the Valley of the Son of Hinnom,” Father Ted said. “And thou shalt consecrate to me all the firstborn. Whatever is the first to open the womb among the people, both of man and of the beast, is mine.”

  “What…, what in the hell are you doing? No! No! For the love of God, NO!” John screamed.

  Father Ted continued, “And the offering was made for Moloch, and turning to his people, he said, take…, eat.”

  “—Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my GOD!” John wailed, his voice pitching into an animal-like yowl. He raised his arm and pointed into the center of the circle, his face frozen in a silent scream. The ring was filled with dozens of naked, writhing, blood-soaked men and women. All were kneeling and desperately scratching at something on the table before them. White teeth flashed as licking lips gurgled in orgiastic pleasure. One of the crowd looked up from the feast and glanced back at John. As their gaze met, the man smiled and a thick stream of blood drooled from his busily chewing mouth.

  “What are they doing? JESUS CHRIST! What are they doing? It can’t be! This can’t be real! I have to wake up! For God’s sake I have to wake up!” he screeched.

  John spun back towards Maw Maw, his mind shattering. She nodded and smiled. In a lightning quick movement, she slashed her hand through the air at his neck. John opened his mouth to yell, but nothing but a wet gasping gurgle emerged from his lips. He fell to his knees. After crumpling to the ground, he gripped his throat as a hot, thick torrent of red poured out over his fingers. His body went still.

  Maw Maw wiped the dripping razor blade on her apron and said, “I always say, there ain’t nothing better than having family home for the holidays.”

  Chapter 27

  April 22nd, 2017 - Stevens Creek Trail - Mountain View, California - 6:15 AM

  Derrek Pitman glanced down at the Fitbit on his wrist and grinned. He was already up to 8,000 steps, and it wasn’t even 7:00 AM. It was a good start. He took his right hand and clasped it around his left wrist, counting out his heartbeat manually as he continued to jog in place. He still liked to double check it, old school. His smile grew wider. Target heart rate achieved! Top that, Steve! The lazy bastard is probably still in bed.

  At his feet, wagging his tail wildly, was Rex, Derrek’s Golden Retriever. There were few things Derrek loved more than running, but when able to do so with his dog, on a beautiful spring Saturday morning, and on a surprisingly empty Stevens Creek Trail, it was heaven. Making this perfect day even more glorious would be, of course, his winning of the weekly fitness challenge against his older brother Steve. Based on this latest Fitbit data, he appeared to be well on the way to achieving the trifecta.

  After a brief pause to take a swig from his water bottle, one he gladly shared with Rex by squirting a stream into the dog’s mouth, Derrek bolted into a full run. Today, since it was so early, and the weather was flawless, he thought it would be nice to run “off trail” for a bit. He glanced down at Rex galloping beside him. The dog was in a complete state of bliss, his fully extended tongue flopping loosely in his jowls. Derrek knew his four-legged jogging partner would like some off-trail time too. To run free and open, with nature in full bloom around them would be sheer perfection. He turned to his right onto a rarely used dirt path and jogged through an opening into the forest. Rex barked loudly and leapt in the air as they entered the woods. Apparently, he approved of the detour.

  As Derrek and Rex ran deeper into the forest, the undergrowth around them grew tighter. Low hanging branches began to scratch Derrek’s arms and face. He ignored it at first, a few scrapes and nicks are a small price to pay for communing with nature, but, after one particularly sharp pine branch smacked him in the eye, he stopped. The ‘forest run’ was a better idea in theory than practice. It was time to turn back.

  “OK, boy, back to the main trail,” Derrek said as he called out to Rex who had run ahead of him by about twenty feet. The dog, ordinarily obedient, did not return, though. He just stood motionless, staring intensely at something up ahead on the path.

  “Come on, boy, we have to go. Come on, boy. Come on,” Derrek said as he walked up to the dog. His pace was slow since he was quite winded. It had been a vigorous run. When he was around six feet away from Rex, Derrek looked at his dog and immediately froze. Something was wrong with Rex. The dog’s hind leg muscles were tense, as if ready to pounce, and the hackles on his back were fully raised. The fur on his tail, as well as that around his neck, was standing out straight. Most alarmingly, he was emitting a low, menacing growl.

  “What is it, boy?” Derrek said. “Do you see a coyote or something?”

  As he came alongside Rex, Derrek grimaced, covered his mouth and gagged. The stench was horrific as his nostrils were assaulted with the rank odor of rotting meat. He glanced down at the ground for the source. He saw something a few feet ahead of them in the middl
e of a clearing. It was a small round object, less than a foot long, and was covered entirely in blowflies. Even more disturbing, it was evident this strange object had been deliberately placed here for some unimaginable reason. This was no dead squirrel or half-eaten raccoon. This thing had been used for some sort of ritual.

  The fly covered mass was positioned in the center of a pentagram. The symbol, a five-pointed star inside a circle, had been traced onto the ground with a trail of black ash. At each of the five points of the star, individual jar candles had been placed. While covering his mouth with his shirt, to attempt to block the stench, Derrek leaned in to get a closer look. Each jar was emblazoned with a skeleton-like figure on the front, clad in an elaborate white wedding dress. One glance inside one of the candles showed the burned wick was still intact and the sides remained blackened. These candles had not been outside long, perhaps just a few hours. Any longer exposed to the elements and the jars would have been filled with rainwater, as it had rained the day before. This also would certainly have washed away the ash circle.

  “What kind of freaky shit is this?” he said.

  Derrek looked over to his right. He saw a small, fallen branch and he reached down and picked it up. He needed to see what was under that swarming blanket of green iridescent flies and he certainly did not want to touch it with his bare skin. Stick in hand, he gently pushed the sharp tip into the revolting glob. He also simultaneously pulled his T-Shirt up tightly over his nose to block out the overpowering reek of rotting meat. Rex wanted no part of this adventure, and now wisely started to back up, his threatening growls now replaced by high pitched whines.

  “What the hell?” Derrek said as he poked the stick further into the mass and it collapsed, like a punctured soufflé, dissolving into a pool of putrid black blood. The flies swarmed away and revealed what was beneath. It was a beef heart, like one would buy at a butcher shop. Something else was also here. A piece of fabric was coiled around the disembodied organ. Derrek gingerly worked the point of the stick beneath the wrapping and lifted it into the air. It was a long, narrow purple cloth resembling a scarf. When the excess blood dripped off the silk fabric, and he spied the golden embroidered cross on the front, his stomach sank. He recognized it immediately from his days as an altar boy. It was a priest’s stole!