The Dispossession
by Alan Watkins
Father Garcia
slings another stream of holy water onto Jeff Simmons’ face as he writhes on
the bed with demonic red eyes. The
younger Father Torelli looks on from the other side of the bed and wields a
giant crucifix as steam rises from the line of holy water that was just
splattered across Simmons’ face. The
demon within him screams as Father Garcia yells, “Leave this vessel, demon, I
command you, in the name of Christ who cast your father into the pit of hell!
Leave NOW!”
“This soul is
consumed, holy man! Your efforts are
futile!” the demon spits back.
“Then leave this
man, demon,” Father Garcia screams, “and return from whence you came! I
command you in the name of Christ!”
Simmons convulses
as he is doused with more holy water and a cross is dangled over his face. Finally,
he relaxes, exhales and collapses to
his side with his eyes open. The red hue
that engulfed his pupils is gone, but he has paid the ultimate price of his life
to be rid of the red-eyed demon. Father Torelli relaxes, but Father Garcia
warns him, “Be ready, just because it has vacated doesn't mean it has left
yet. We must send it back and close the
door to prevent others from crossing over.”
This is not Father
Garcia’s first exorcism, and he knows that this is not the time to let his
guard down. Sure enough, he sees the
demon rise on Father Torelli’s side of the bed, black from head to toe except
for those cat-like red eyes. The demon’s
body shimmers as if covered in some type of gel. The demon is within striking
distance of
Father Torelli. Father Garcia exclaims,
“Father Torelli! Send him back!
Every second matters!” The demon spews forth a demonic voice which
must come from within somehow with the way its tongue seems to continuously
roll in and out of its mouth, almost snake-like in appearance.
“We will taste
your soul next Torelli!” the demon hisses.
Father Torelli, eyes wide and mouth open, is frozen stiff from fear. The
crucifix still dangles from his raised
right hand, but it is as useless as a weapon that is too heavy for its
possessor to lift. Father Garcia flies
across the bed, grabbing the crucifix from Father Torelli’s hand and shoves him
back across the bed just as the demon is advancing. Father Garcia then leaps
upon the demon,
pressing the crucifix deep into its forehead as they both crash to the
floor.
“Back to HELL demon!” Father Garcia
exclaims, as he keeps
the crucifix pressed into the blackness of the demon’s face. As the demon
shrieks, there is a steady flow
of steam, like when fire touches ice, from where the holy crucifix touches the
unholy creature’s body. Finally, the
steam subsides and there is nothing left of red-eye except a black outline on
the floor. Farther Garcia collapses in
exhaustion with his back against the bed facing away from Father Torelli.
“I froze!” Father
Torelli says, “I’m sorry, I froze.” He
puts his head in his hands.
“At some point we
all freeze,” Father Garcia says, “it’s why we never do this alone.”
Father Torelli looks up raising his eyebrows
and says, “How long was the door to hell open?”
“Not long,” Father
Garcia assures him, “we should be ok…until they find another way, and they
always do.”
As Father Garcia
says these last words, something black behind Father Torelli quietly approaches. Father
Torelli hears only the slightest
guttural sound to his left as he turns to see what made it. What he is faced
with is a demon almost
identical to the one they just fought, the only difference being this one has
green eyes instead of red. Before he
can move, the green-eyed demon leaps on him as he lets out a yelp. On the other
side of the bed, Father Garcia
sighs and briefly closes his eyes, knowing he is about to have to spring into
battle again. He mutters to himself,
“That’s why we never do it alone.”
