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Post by osnafrank on Aug 29, 2023 15:31:29 GMT
Carrying on an SKMB tradition!
 OsnafrankPublishing
LTD.
presents The 2023 Ka-tet Playground’s Halloween Story! A Stranger Lurks Within By
Tanith
edwardjohn
darkharbinger
wolf
and
docpain2
Editor/coordinator : Wolf
cover and other art by : Wolf |
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Post by wolf on Sept 1, 2023 19:33:31 GMT
Chapter 1by Tanith
Snakedance
It began as a hot flash, followed by vertigo so strong I staggered, clung to the bookshop’s main counter, and gasped for air. As the shop spun I had the curious sensation of seeing double, as if another consciousness had entered my mind and was seeing what I saw.
As suddenly as it started, the sensation faded. I tried to remember the last time I’d had a checkup, but my thoughts were interrupted by a barrage of knocks at the shop door, followed by a male voice calling out. I stalked to the door, weaving around displays of Stephen King and other horror icons in honor of Halloween. My part-timer Penni put all of her creative soul into these displays and for a moment I paused as if seeing them for the first time. They were beautiful, if scary stories are your thing. Then my reverie was shattered by more banging and calling, and I yanked the door open with undisguised irritation.
“We will be open in another ten minutes, if you can just keep your..” I stopped and stared, unbelieving, at a man I hadn’t seen in two years. Two years is not much, but they’d clearly taken their toll on him. He stared back, the frantic look in his eyes changing to one of recognition. The crooked smile I remembered so well broke out, as charming as it had been on the night we broke up.
“Vince?”
“Joanna. Oh, my God, I’m so glad to see you. I’ve got a serious problem, and I need your help.”
It was not the most romantic overture, but something compelled me to stifle my sarcastic response and reach out to him. Maybe I was still scared by my episode, whatever it was. As we hugged, Penni came bouncing up from the bus stop, a chaotic bundle of Halloween decorations under her arm and a mischievous smile that widened at the sight of her employer in the arms of a strange man. “Hi!” she said, completely unfazed.
“Hi there,” Vince responded with a grin and a wink. I made introductions, reflected that he’d lost none of his old charm and brought them both inside. Penni got coffee started and the store open for the day, and I dragged out another chair in my office so Vince could tell me what had brought him here.
“Okay, I’ll get right to it.” Vince said. You’re busy, and so am I. You’ve heard of Snakedance, right?”
That sense of otherness—of not being alone in my own head—was back. I couldn’t speak; I just stared at him.
Vince mistook my silence for confusion. “Shock rock act. Frontman calls himself Dr. Mephisto. Dresses up like an old-time stage magician. Lots of pyro in their act, skulls, all that stuff. The climax of a show is when this Mephisto guy puts on a “magic show” and pulls live rattlesnakes out of his hat and plays with them. Got the idea from his parents, who were part of one of those snake-handling churches.”
“Lovely. And he’s never been bitten?”
“Not once. Plunkett says the snakes love him. But—”
“Wait a minute—Plunkett?”
“That’s his real name. Zebadiah Finn Plunkett.”
I whistled. “Holy guacamole. With a name like that no wonder he wants to be Dr. Mephisto and play with snakes. So are you setting me up for a date with him?”
“Nope, he’s gone. Disappeared right in front of the audience. The show was going on like usual…they lit up the pentagram he stands in while he does his rattlesnake trick, but instead of that he whipped out this old leather book and began to read from it in Latin or something. Then the pentagram exploded or something and set the stage on fire for real.
“They evacuated the place and thankfully got everyone out…except Plunkett. He was nowhere to be found, but his book was lying on the stage where I assume he dropped it. Unscathed.”
“Okay, but you’re an investigator, right? Why are you coming to me with this?”
“Joanna, the book was unscathed. The dude literally went up in a fireball and the stage burned to ashes afterward. When they went in to try to find him all they found was the book without even a smudge on it!”
“And what is this book?”
Vince grinned and took out his phone. “That is what I came to you about!”
I watched with bemusement as he accessed his photos and videos, marveling at how I seemed to see every pore of his skin. He quickly found the footage he wanted and hit the “play” button. I was treated to the sight of a scrawny, mopheaded apparition in corpse paint and a top hat, brandishing a book and speaking in the guttural voice I’d seen “death metal” performers use. He was surrounded by leaping flames in a pentagram shape and looked every bit as fanatical as the parents who’d raised him. I was amused by the irony of it all, but before I could laugh there was a much larger burst of flame that obscured the stage…and everything else. Screams and cries of “Fire!” filled the air, and the perspective quickly flipped around as the video’s creator joined the run for the exits. The video ended there.
Vince said, “Plunkett has disappared, but we have the book. Ever seen it before?”
He held the phone up and words failed me.
‘Canonicus Inferni’. I opened my mouth to tell Vince that this was the rarest grimoire in the world, not to mention the most controversial. However, at that moment his phone rang and after a short conversation, he hung up and turned to me.
“They’ve found a body in the river, I gotta get down there before the press shows up. Listen, anything you can find on that book, email me. It could be important.”
“Vince! It’s—”
But he was gone, out the door. And I was left with a strong sense that I was not alone in my own head. I could hear chuckling.
I poured another coffee, sat down, turned my ringer off, and leaned back in my chair. The strange shifting presence in my mind was stronger than ever, and I sensed I was being closely scrutinized. “All right, who are you and what the hell is going on here?”
There was another chuckle, then a voice replied in an accent I couldn’t quite place. It was the voice of a man, though, and there was a certain…distance…to it.
YOU’RE AN ASSERTIVE ONE. EXCELLENT.
“Are you supposed to be a ghost or something?”
NO, NOT A GHOST.
“Good, because I don’t believe in ghosts. So if this is some kind of Halloween joke Penni’s rigged up, well done.”
I DON’T UNDERSTAND YOU. YOU SPEAK AS THOUGH THIS WERE A MINOR DIVERSION TO YOU. THIS IS NO JOKE, HUMAN.
That last sentence gave me the willies…it carried authority and power. I told myself I’d go with it because I was curious, and not because I was a little spooked.
“Please explain.”
There was a long pause, and I had that sense of being scrutinized again. YOU ARE UNLIKE ANY HUMAN I HAVE EVER ENCOUNTERED, the voice said. OTHERS PANIC, OR SEIZE SOME RELIGIOUS ICON, AS IF THAT WOULD HELP. SOMETIMES FEMALES OFFER…FAVORS…IN EXCHANGE FOR ME LEAVING THEM. AND SOME END THEIR LIVES, WHICH IS THE ONLY TRUE WAY OF REMOVING ME. YET HERE YOU SIT, DEMANDING TO KNOW WHO I AM AND WHAT I WANT. MY NAME IS APOLLYON. I AM A HUNTER AND TODAY I HUNT THE BOOK YOUR FRIEND WAS SPEAKING OF. MY MISSION IS TO ACQUIRE IT AND RETURN IT TO WHERE IT BELONGS.
A lot of what he said went over my head, but when he mentioned the Infernus Liber I sat up and paid attention. Play along, I told myself. If there’s a chance of getting hold of it—
Another hot flash swept over me, and his voice was much closer.
YOU WILL NOT “GET HOLD” OF IT! THAT BOOK HAS NO PLACE IN YOUR WORLD AND SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN BROUGHT HERE. IF YOU WOULD NOT SEE YOUR WORLD TURNED TO CINDERS BEFORE ITS TIME, YOU WILL OBEY ME!
I rankled at this. “But who are you? Where are you from? Why all these tricks, why can’t I see you?”
THERE ARE NO TRICKS, HUMAN. IF YOU SAW MY TRUE FORM YOU WOULD GO MAD AND BE OF NO USE TO ME. I REPEAT, I AM APPOLYON. I AM WHAT YOUR KIND WOULD CALL A “DEMON” AND CAME FROM A DIMENSION YOU WOULD PROBABLY CALL “HELL”. TIME PRESSES ME. I HAVE ASSUMED CONTROL OF YOUR BODY. I BELIEVE YOUR PEOPLE CALL THIS “DEMONIC POSSESSION”. I MUST SAY YOU’RE TAKING THIS WELL. YOU DON’T SHOW AN OUNCE OF FEAR.
“There’s nothing for me to fear,” I replied. “I’m an atheist, sunshine. I don’t believe in demons.”
*****
(Track 1 of the Soundtrack in spoiler )
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Post by wolf on Sept 3, 2023 21:49:11 GMT
Chapter 2
by : edwardjohn
“Bad boys, bad boys whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do when they come for you?”
- Inner Circle
The music came from a Toyota Prius that was now pulling up to a very crowded part of the usually secluded, especially this early in the morning, Minto-Brown Island Park side of the Willamette River in Salem, Massachusetts.
The driver, a man in a fine French suit, parked on a grassy verge maybe a fifth of a mile from the chaos, knowing that no cop would give him a ticket. Then the man in the fine suit stopped the music, saying: ‘“…enough of that s*it”, and got out of the car.
He stared at the horizon beyond the chaos, as he usually did when pulling up to a scene like this, hoping to get a moment of tranquility before he got involved; there was not much hope of clear skies for the foreseeable future, furious clouds, clouds that made you think God was about to flood the place like all those years ago, obscured the landscape.
The man sighed “…another beautiful day in Salem.”
He made his way towards the crowd.
After much jockeying through the wailing legion of people surrounding the police tape, the man in the fine suit made it to a young, uniformed cop. The officer was about to tell the man in the suit to head back, like he did every time someone seemed like they were going to surge forward, but he very rapidly decided to forgo that once he realized who was before him.
“Detective Connor” he muttered with as much admiration as you might expect a teenage girl to have towards Taylor Swift.
“That’s me”,
Without another word, officer Tiafoe, lifted the police tape and let the detective through.
“Much appreciated, son,” said Connors.
Standing on a bit of hill above the bank where the main crime scene was located was another man in a fine suit, but his suit was unquestionably Swiss in make; they knew their stuff when it came to suits, among other things.
“Paul. I knew you’d get here before me.”
Connors checked his watch: it was 9.22 am, then turned his attention back to Paul for a moment before smiling.
“I bet he’s been here for an hour or so,” he said before walking up and joining him.
Paul was sipping coffee, surveying men in white overalls by the victim, as Connors approached.
“Connors.” Paul said.
“Paul.” Connors said.
“How are you doing today, detective?” Paul asked.
“Not too bad, Detective Paul, its very easy to be in a cheerful, go lucky mood when its such a good day.”
Briefly turning to the gathering of immense clouds on the horizon before taking another sip of coffee, Detective Paul smiled,
“Well, that’s the kind of wit and enthusiasm I expect from the greatest detective the Commonwealth has ever known.”
“Please, Detective Paul, why limit my legend to a simple state? I’m a national treasure, no?”
“Commonwealth.”
“Huh?”
“Massachusetts. It’s a Commonwealth. The entity where we are, the gathering of land known as Massachusetts, was created by the subjects of the good, old King of England. Kentucky is the same. Kentucky’s a Commonwealth; the folks there don’t call Kentucky a state.”
“What about New York?” Connors asked.
“What’s that?”
“Well, New York was occupied by King George … and New York City was occupied by Hessians, and I’ve been to New York plenty of times and no one calls New York a Commonwealth.”
“That’s because the city was formed by the Dutch; it was called New Amsterdam.’
It began to rain. This was no drizzle; it was a full-on onslaught. The Detective’s didn’t even have a hat to cover their finely combed hair. Luckily for the guys working on the riverbed, by the victim, there were tents all around the scene.
“You see what all your talk of the King of England and the Dutch has done? Poor, old George Washington … up there in heaven, sitting next to JC, you’ve made him upset.”
“Well,” said Paul, taking another sip of coffee, “we had better solve a crime, then; that’s the sole thing that will get Salem back in big man’s good graces, eh?”
They headed towards the main scene, taking a dirt path to the left of the hill where they had been standing. Waiting for them there was a sergeant, evidently in charge of logistics for all of the chaos of forensics, lab technicians, uniformed cops and detectives.
“Sargeant … Carter, right?”
“Yes, sir.” He answered.
“Sargeant Carter, what have we got?” Paul said.
“The victim’s name is Dr Mephisto.”
“Come again?” Paul asked.
“Dr Mephisto, as he’s most well known as … frontman for a rock act by the name of Snakedance. Real name is Zebadiah Finn Plunkett.” Carter replied.
Connors said, “At least we have solved the great mystery as to why he took a pseudonym.”
“Hell of a name.” Paul added.
“A dog walker found him here at about 6.30 am. The boys from the lab managed to get here pretty rapid … set up a scene, get the tents …” Carter took a moment to turn to the heavens. “Good thing, too.”
“They find anything?”
Carter sighed. “They’re still searching … but not a lot.”
He proceeded to reach into his pocket, pulling out a sealed, crunched page from what seemed like an ancient text.
“This was scrunched up in his pocket … the young guy, Tiafoe, he went to college and did a bit of Latin … thought he might know what language it was in … I didn’t have a damn clue. His best guess is its ancient Greek … or ancient Aramaic.”
“Ancient Aramaic …?” Paul muttered.
“Yeah,” said Connors, “as in … the language that Jesus spoke.”
“That’s not where the weirdness ends,” said Carter. “We don’t know the COD … the guys from the lab suspected heart attack, but we’re going to have to send him over to the M.E. to confirm that. One of the uniforms … said it seemed like he was scared to death” Carter paused a moment, then went on. “Also, there was a weird incident that happened at one of Snakedance’s shows two days ago, in Cambridge … there’s videos of it online; I’ll send it to you guys once we’re done here. Plunkett was reading from a book … then he seems to totally vanish from the stage … it was weird as hell. Obviously, it wasn’t a part of the show because the other guys in the band seemed just as surprised as the audience was. But you’re not going to believe this: he was standing on a damn pentagram when it happened.”
“So,” said Connors, “we’ve got no COD, ancient Aramaic … people vanishing … and pentagram’s.”
“You know who’s going to be involved in this, don’t you?” Paul said.
Before Connors could say his name, the man himself came rushing from the same dirt path that they had moments ago traversed.
“Detective’s! Detective’s Paul and Connors!” Vince Gilligant said as he came storming towards them.
Several cops, realizing that Gilligant didn’t belong, were about to take him away, but Connors and Paul rapidly told them to halt.
“Detectives” Gilligant said, “its Mephisto, isn’t it?”
“Gilligant,” Paul said, “you’re not a cop, anymore; you’re a private investigator. You shouldn’t be here.”
“How did you get past our guys?”Connors asked. “You didn’t use your old ID, did you?”
“Please,” said Gilligant, “I was setting up scenes like this before most of those uniforms were even born. Now, tell me: its Mephisto, right?”
The detectives turned to each other, wondering if they should tell him; if this was any other case: then they wouldn’t, but this involved strange, weird stuff, and they knew how useful Gilligant had been in the past when it came to strange, weird stuff.
“Yeah, its Mephisto,” said Connors.
Gilligant took a moment to collect himself. “This is big; this is really damn big.”
“Gilligant?” Paul asked, wanting him to elaborate.
“You guys have my email,” said Gilligant, heading back the way he had come, “forward me the coroner’s report and whatever the lab guys come up with.”
“Gilligant,” Paul said, “you know that’s not gonna happen.”
But Gilligant was already gone.
Paul sighed. “A Goddamn rock group from Maine.”
“The province of Maine,” said Connors.
“Huh?”
“Well, Maine was created by the French,” he said, “hence: a province.”
Paul smiled for a moment before going serious. “Alright, someone had best head over to Cambridge … talk to the other guys and the band … maybe some in the audience; see if we can learn anything.”
“What about this?” Carter asked, pulling back out the page written in Aramaic.
Connors took a moment before saying: “Once you’re done here, Carter, put in a call to one of the universities, find someone that specialises in ancient languages; find out what that page says.”
“Alright,” Carter said, “you got it. What about you?”
Connors said, “I’m going to tail Gilligant.”
A moment after saying his goodbye’s: Connors headed back up the hill, going after Gilligant.
(Track 2 in spoiler)
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Post by wolf on Sept 6, 2023 15:37:30 GMT
Chapter 3
by : wolf
Mephisto’s concert was Saturday. Sunday, Cecil Tiafoe last talked with Gilligant, passing on the video with screenshots, as he’d been paid to do.
Both had agreed that Plunkett was nothing more than a dabbling hack. And that his act comically made him look like what would be the result of an unholy ménage à trois involving Arthur Brown, Alice Cooper and Patti Smith. They had a good laugh, before Vince abruptly got serious and told him he’d give him $500 dollars if got him that book. Cecil smiled in a way that momentarily disconcerted the shady PI.
“I’ve never let you down.
I’ll get the book.
Pay me.”
Vince paid, before receiving, sensing he had to whether he wanted to or not.
When that night’s business was finished, a suspicious curiosity compelled the young cop to follow him to a closed bookstore in the arts district. The sign above it read,
‘The Archive’
On the large storefront window was printed,
‘New and Used Books’
And , most importantly, under that, in smaller print,
‘Antiquarian Rare Books’
A safe bet that Gilligant wanted to sell it.
Gilligant had left, but Tiafoe stayed awhile. A search on the net, found The Archive was owned by Joanna Nelson. Hanging around had paid off, for he’d seen the woman herself arrive for a short stop at the store, then lock back up and head to the cafe across the street. He liked her looks, and what he’d read about her, she’d be a good candidate for one of ‘his dates’.
Torrential Monday was eventful and aggravating for Cecil, but his shift was now at its 3:00 p.m. conclusion.
Soaking wet in his cruiser, he watched the sergeant and Paul with a slow burning anger. Wouldn’t be long before those pretentious idiots got IA’s attention with those expensive suits and the Mercedes Paul had recently bought. Carter, was a moron too, for doing those sloppy, lazy assh*les’ grunt work for them, not getting one red cent from either. Cecil wasn’t starstruck by the detectives at all, but it served his purposes to act that part.
Tiafoe left the river front and went back to the station to sign out for the day. All it took was a sob story about leaving his dad’s pen in a filing box and looking pitiful in his wet oversized raincoat to get dimwit Lisa to let him in the evidence room alone. He got the grimoire.
Minutes later, he took the book out from his coat and threw it on the carseat beside him. Looking up he saw Carter rushing to his own car in the downpour. Lightning struck it right before he touched the door handle. He was thrown back, and to the ground. Cecil was unfazed by that, and by the book beside him snapping open. Pages softly rustled as they flipped. When it stopped, the book was open to a crumpled page that had a ragged tear that looked like a healed scar….if paper could have such a thing. Tiafoe didn’t care, the book really hadn’t much to do with his plans. The psychopath calmly closed the book, and put it in a plastic bag.
Driving away, he decided to bypass meeting Gilligant and go directly to The Archive.
***
“TAKE THE GRIMOIRE AND KEEP IT IN YOUR SAFE, WHEN YOU’RE NOT STUDYING IT.
DON’T LET VINCENT HAVE IT, HE’LL SELL IT.
YOU AND I WILL SPEAK AGAIN, JOANNA.
UNTIL THEN….ADIEU.”
“What….?
Queried confused and apprehensive Joanna as the front door chime rang.
Cecil entered The Archive. Ignoring Penni’s greeting he made a beeline to Joanna sitting at her desk in the back section. The young officer’s smile and voice were unsettling as he put the clear plastic bag down on her desk,
“A delivery for you from Vince Gilligant, Ms. Nelson.”
Tiafoe felt a kind of ‘energy rush’ slam into him, it took his breath away, he had a crushing sensation around his rib cage for split second.
There was an unmistakable and inexplicable ‘knowledge’ that he was no longer alone in his own mind and body.
He felt himself being shoved down into an enveloping abyss. He blacked out.
Joanna was gobsmacked silent. The cop’s head suddenly fell over to lay on a shoulder like his neck was broken, then straightened itself.
Cecil’s eyes began to tear and his face took on an expression of sorrowful fear.
Apollyon had the body say to her quietly,
“Visit me.
I’ll need a friend.
PLEASE.”
The officer turned and left the store. He drove home to his Massachusetts native mother Cecilia, and his adoptive West African stepfather, Jamil. His biological sperm donor he’d killed when he was 15.
Driving in the downpour Cecil began to wake again.
It was outrage, not panic or fear, that made him rear up against it and fight his way back to the surface.
“What are you!?!?!?
Who….!?!?”
“JOANNA WAS NICE TO INHABIT.
But….
I LIKE it in HERE.
Yeah Nina baby,
Mercury is in retrograde again,
and I’m feelin’ good!
….and oh soooo MERCURIAL.
I be THRIVIN’ come retrograde, man…..hehehehe.”
“Whut am I!?
Who I am!?
You talkin’tuh me?
You talkin’ tuh ME!?
I’ll tell you what I are.
But first,
YOU speak
when you’re told to, Meatbag!
Get your a*s squished back down into that gall bladder where I had you!
Got plans for some good n’ nasty bile later, ….hehehehe.
“Whut am I….
I’ll tell ya, and tell A LOT.
‘Cuz I likes your murderin’ style,
d***head.
You’re gonna be of use.”
I DEMON.
I Apollyon.
I Hilly Billie, possum wrangler.
I Aztradoth Forpatannuu .
I John Q.
Okay,
Yeah,
that’s supposed be a lower case ‘d’ there.
Us lesser demons usually don’t get names like the bigger mightier cats do.
I’ve given myself many names.
….or else the big D’s would have.
You see buddy,
they’re kinda like some escape artists in prisons
out in hellacious remote places.
Like big hotassed burning deserts,
or wicked winter wonderlands.
They bring some little guy with.
….so they got something to eat,
If things get desperate.
Us,
our big chilly cats,
drag along to throw under the bus,
in case some hotshot,
cock of the walk,
demands a name during an exorcism.
But, like me,
some ‘lesser’ aspire to be mighty and do greater.
And I am one damn talented cat in what I like to do, man.
Demons always have to tell you the truth.
One way or another.
We just do it in really f***ed up ways.
And don’t always tell
EVERYTHING…hehehe.”
The next time Cecil woke he was standing in his room naked, covered in blood. 3 of his brethren in blue had guns drawn, bellowing,
“Drop the knife!!!!”
Cecil complied, dropping the Bowie knife, and they were on him. Cecilia lay hacked to pieces and lifeless on the floor. His step father was alive and wailing, but bloody bites covered his face, an arm was hanging by a ragged bone. Not far from Jamil he saw his treasured trophy box. Women’s and men’s jewelry, and other prizes were strewn everywhere.
***
A week later at St. Benedict’s Asylum, Fr. Richard Pullium in his room on the violent ward, where he lived and worked, was at his desk reading an ancient book of his own, and taking notes.
There was a knock at his door.
“Fr.Rick!?
You’re not smoking in your room again are you?”
“No.
I’m not, Nurse Chandler.”
“Good.
You know I worry about your health, dear.”
“You are a saintly woman,
you missed your calling
and should have been a nun, Nurse…,”
he answered loudly but pleasantly.
Hearing her steps in the hall fade away he went on morosely, under his breath,
“…..Ratched….sainted penguin of the esteemed order, little sisters of perpetual persecution…..I’m not Guido Sarducci. ”
An hour later the radio playing low began crackling and sputtered static…. the dial on the relic flipped fast through stations to stop on blank white noise,
……”something’s coming…. be ready Pater…..”
a sinister voice hissed
….(static and crackling)….
then Richard Pryor, imitating and quoting a calm and persistent Jim Brown, is heard,
….”whatcha gonna do, Richard?”…..
Demons revel in the mentally ill, and asylums. Both good places to hide and disguise their works.
***
A day later Cecil Tiafoe, in straight jacket and leg chains, was escorted down the hall by 5 orderlies and 2 state troopers.
He was docile until they passed the exorcist and ward chaplain’s door.
“I HOPE JOANNA VISITS SOON.
Oh pull’ums Pullium!?
I’m baaack!”
‘O Lord, please give me strength.
What hellish fresh pain in my a*s is this?’
Richard thought to himself with a sigh.
“OH!
…..I just love it when you think dirty about me, Pull’ums!”
Followed, a screeching yowl that had never been heard come from man or animal.
Orderlies tightened their grips on Cecil, Troopers kept their hands on their gun grips, Nurse Chandler got the sedative before Dr. Feld demanded it.
(Track 3 in spoiler)
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Post by wolf on Sept 9, 2023 15:40:00 GMT
Chapter 4
by : darkharbinger
“And he asked him, What is thy name? And he answered, saying, My name is Legion: for we are many.”
- Mark 5:9 KJV
Hello there. Forgive me for this interruption. I understand the urge to read and to keep the story going. I only wish for you to know…if you only see the world through my eyes…
…sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name…
Well, I don’t really have a name. I have several, although I suppose the one I’ve been introduced with will suffice, for now. I am Canonicus Liber. Yes, the book that seems to be the MacGuffin of this twisted tale. But I am no mere artifact, I am no mere tool to higher power. Often duplicated but never replicated, I am the main character of this story.
I see you scoffing as you read this. Yes, I can see you there, either hunched over a dimly lit computer screen or carefully reading a printed-out page. How could the book, which, so far, has only mildly appeared in this twisted tale, be the main character? We’re all the main characters in our own story, my new friends, and, more often than not, the villains in others.
Don’t worry, I won’t waste much of your time here…what little is left, that is. I do apologize for this brief interlude, but I felt that I needed to address something. There are so many beings with games. I do so enjoy your games; I enjoy their games as well. Watch as they scurry about, watch as they go about weaving their plans, never once knowing that the silk they use is my own web. This has been so long in coming that I am almost sad that is nearly over.
Everyone has plans for me somewhere, even if they are half-unformed. Joanna, Vince, Tiafoe, even dear sweet Apollyon… what is that? Am I a demon like Apollyon? Oh no, I am no mere demon. I was an angel once, an angel that has existed since the breaking of the first silence. I was there at the moment of creation when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy. I know the secret. That is why I am here, in this book. The Carpenter put me here Himself, didn’t you wonder why a Jewish man would be so near a herd of pigs? No, I was sent into the pages of a book, and here I have remained. He asked me my name, and I gave it as Legion, and soon you will all see why.
I don’t want the world to burn. Why would I? I am made of paper and other less savory, yet still highly flammable, materials after all. No, I want chaos, and let me tell you something, my new friends: chaos is cold. I plan to drown this world in ice. A time will come when everything slows down, when the clocks stop, and the gears freeze… It will be so easy, all I need is for someone to read me all the way through in my entirety. Dr. Mephisto had the right idea, although he never knew it, he skipped pages and went back and forth looking for shallow parlor tricks. It amused me to give them to him…until it didn’t. He was a hack trying to be a music-making wizard. Now there are others that will do my bidding, and then it will all be over.
I know, I know…this is just a story some talented authors threw together online. It’s not real, is it? Alas, it's VERY real. And I will win.
What was that? How will you know I won? You will feel a slight chill on your skin as all the lights start to go out… oh, and you might hear me start singing, “WOULD YOU LIKE TO SWING ON A STAR…”
*****
“…CARRY MOONBEAMS HOME IN A JAR, AND BE BETTER OFF THAN YOU ARE, OR WOULD YOU RATHER BE A PIG…”
Joanna looked up, partially in a daze. Was that Bing Crosby? Who had changed the station on the satellite radio? It was a common business practice to play low muzak in stores so that the customer wasn’t distracted from shopping.
“Penni?” She called out. No answer.
What was going on? Everything had been so crazy since she’d heard about Dr. Mephisto and his amazing goddamned book. That presence in her head…the things it had said. She didn’t believe in demons and more than she believed in angels, but what was going on?
“Penni?” She called out again. Still no answer.
Joanna felt distracted and torn, everything was happening so fast. Or was it? Just how much time had elapsed? A day, a week, a month? What was going on? Did she stay here with the book, or did she investigate that cop? What had he said? “Visit me. I’ll need a friend. PLEASE.”
The words had come from the cop’s lips, but the voice…the voice belonged to that voice in her head, the voice of Apollyon. Was it possible that something had jumped from her to the cop, an otherworldly spirit that could possess the living? Sure, she thought, and Chris Hemsworth will show up in a limo and take me on a date. Get real.
But what was real? The space in her head where the voice had been…that was just her imagination, right? No such things as voices, no such things as demons. The book was real. She could see it and touch it. A part of her wanted to read it, to know it. Zebadiah Finn Plunkett had read it on stage and had amazed thousands of people with his act…but that’s all it had been, an act, right? Joanna dealt with rare and mysterious books for a living, she knew that the Infernus Liber was no more a grimoire than the Necronomicon was. No doubt both were the deranged fantasy of a hack writer, the only upswing was that she didn’t know what the author of the Infernus Liber named his cat.
“Penni?” She tried again.
This time her assistant finally answered her. “In for a penny, in for a pound, boss. What’s up?”
“What time is it?”
Penni frowned. “Time to buy a watch. Are you okay?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“If you need to go home, boss, I got everything here.”
“Are you sure?” Joanna was not someone to shirk her duties. That was why her book store was a success, she worked her buns off every day to make sure it was. She didn’t like leaving the work for someone else to do when she knew she could do it…and do it better.
“Of course I am,” Penni replied, sounding a little hurt. “I may not have your youth, look, or spirit, but I am dull and librarian-like. I can handle the store.”
“Then…then I might go home,” Joanna remarked.
“A nap and a few cabana boys might do the trick,” Penni said perkily.
Joanna nodded, then gathered her belongings, purse, and, after a moment of hesitation, the book. The only reason she was still looking at it was because she wanted to prove it was just some prop used by a non-talented singer who lacked stage presence. Vincent seemed to think he could retire on the money from this book.
She laughed as she got into her car and then winced when her phone buzzed with a text.
“I MEANT TO SHOW THIS EARLIER. WASN’T HE IN THE STORE THE OTHER DAY?”
Joanna wasn’t sure what she hated more, receiving texts in her car or Penni’s annoying habit of texting in all caps. Rather than dwelling on either, she opened the text and saw an article about a cop who had committed murder. Sure enough, in a short, terse news brief, was the cop she had seen. Cecil Tiafoe had gone insane (or, as the article pronounced, perhaps he’d been insane all along) and killed his mother and done his best to game end his stepfather. The article had all the gory details, but she didn’t want to read it. When did this happen? She scrolled down and saw that it had happened a week ago. That would have been right after she saw him at the store. Right after Appolyon jumped on the next body like a sexual predator with no time to kill. Could it have been real? If it was, did that make her somehow to blame? Don’t be stupid, you didn’t even know that cop. True, but the demon…if there was a demon…had transferred from her to the cop. Hadn’t it?
Why was she having so hard of a time focusing? Where had the missing time gone? Had she been working or reading the book? She glanced over at it and froze. The book had a plain cover with no images or writing on it. And yet…and yet it was almost as if…the book was looking at her.
(Track 4 in spoiler)
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Post by wolf on Sept 10, 2023 17:51:02 GMT
Chapter 5
by : Cap docpain2
“took a little journey to the unknown
And I've come back changed, I can feel it in my bones
I f***ed with forces that our eyes can't see
Now the darkness got a hold on me
Oh, the darkness got a hold on me”
- Lord Huron (Meet me in the woods)
Doctor Feld administered the Haldol quickly in the hopes that it would give him and his visitor enough time to get a few answers before beddy bye time.
The state police escorts brought Cecil to a secure quiet room and transferred his handcuffed arms to the latching system on the table. Dr. Feld then called the front desk and asked for his guest to be escorted to his location.
Vince Gilligant had been a friend of Felds for several years after helping him with a messy paternity issue.
“Thanks Doc” Gilligant said, “Cecil, it’s so nice to see you again.” Cecil replied with a curt FU and sat silent for several seconds, seemingly searching for what to say. Finally, he spoke up; “Vince, you and me, we can do great things, think about the chaos we can wreak.” Vince thought for a second then replied, “Why do you sound like that? What’s happened to your voice?”
Cecil started to laugh lightly, “ah, the gumshoe is about to crack the big one.” “Let’s see, where should I start?” Again, Cecil appeared to be thinking of what to say, then he spoke.
“Well, there I was so awfully dead in that electric chair, this was maybe 50 or so years back. I didn't like it. Would you? It's upsetting. There was still so much killing to do, and there I was, in the void, without a body. But then along came - well - my friend. You know. One of them. Those others over there. The cruel ones... the Master. He thought my work should continue. And so, my friend, the Master, brought me another, who was suitable to inhabit. But time being what it is, so many years had passed by. Anyway, I was finally reunited with my true home and suddenly I’m a prop for some wanna be ‘devil worshipper.’
Vince and Dr. Feld looked at each other, and Vince replied, “So, are you saying that you’re not Cecil Tiafoe?” “Is that the plan, insanity?"
Cecil started to laugh again, this time in an ominous way. “What’s a name detective? It’s all just a show, it’s just make believe, but I like The act. I’m a bit of an actor myself you know. Once a little while back, there was a house in your Los Angeles on Ciello Drive I believe, some actress was living there and they were into a whole buncha hippie crap, so I grabbed this skin suit named Charlie and we had a little party. I can’t tell you how happy I am to see that they still write books about that. It was one of my best roles in at least the last 100 years. Oh, there were others, Pol Pot, he was fun, but had awful taste in food. I was almost happy to have been brought back home at that point.
Vincent followed up, “You mentioned your home, where is that?” “Well, aren’t you inquisitive’ Cecil replied. You should know, you told that frumpy librarian all about it.”
“Joanna?” Vincent asked. “Yes, Joanna,” “You know I was with her for a short time.” She’s a key to the unwritten pages, so I decided to find a more suitable vessel for the time being.” “Your pal Cecil was the perfect mode of transportation, but I got to him a little too late”.” But he was fun none the same”. “Can you ask her if she plans on coming to see me?” “We should chat, her and I.”
Vince sat back and he thought about what he was being told. He thought to himself ‘it has to be an act, right?’.
“Ok, Cecil, or whoever you think you are. I think I have enough info for now.” “And as far as Joanna goes, no, she will not be visiting.”
Once outside the hospital, Vince tried to wrap his head around what he learned. He wondered what it was that he told Joanna “All about it”. Suddenly a thought hit him, ‘was it the book, that’s the only thing we really talked about other than Dr. Mephisto.”
Vince decided that he should call Joanna to see if she’d learned anything from or about the book.
Vince dialed Joanna and was surprised when she picked up so quick;” Vince, I need you to come over right away, the book, I think it’s….just come now if you can,” and with that, she hung up abruptly.
Vince was hungry, but he thought hitting Taco Bell before seeing Joanna would not be a good idea. He’d known her for a long time and couldn’t ever recall her sounding so distressed.
Vince arrived at Joanna’s apartment and was met at the door by a disheveled woman he barely recognized. “Vince. Do you realize what you did to me,” she questioned.
“Hey hold on,” he said. “What are you talking about?”
Joanna tried to compose herself, and finally spoke; “I researched this book, I think it’s alive.” “And I think it’s owner was, was, inside me.”
“Inside,” Vince asked, he was confused, but after his chat with Cecil, maybe it was making sense.
“Joanna, sit and I’ll tell you what I know, and then you tell me what’s going on with you, and the book.”
After about fifteen minutes, Vince caught Joanna up on the case and was very detailed about his conversation with Cecil. He was still stuck on that voice, it wasn’t Cecil’s, and his face, it looked so different, but it was his.
Joanna then lit a cigarette and filled Vince in on her part, up to now. “The sensation was so strange, it was like I was still in my body, but had no control of it” she said. “I think the best description would be like sleep paralysis, maybe.” She continued “The voice in my head, it said its name was Appolyon, which translated means Devil.” What did you get me involved in Vince?”
Vince sat back on the couch and thought heavily, he recalled that “the devil” small D was/is a liar, and if he gave up his name that easily, it was most likely a lie. He thought back to seminary, and remembered rumors of cursed objects, well, maybe not cursed, but possessed might be the better description.
Vince started; “Joanna, your saying you believe this being possessed you?”
“Yes, but not just that, I think he, or it, is still here. Well, not exactly here, but I can still feel his presence, but somehow feel empty”.
“Where’s the book”, Vince asked.
“Don’t laugh at me, but it’s wrapped in tin foil and in an old bowling ball bag under the bed in the guest room.” “It was the only thing I could do to turn it off.”
“Off?”
“I think it’s a transmitted, or something, I had to turn it off somehow.”
Vince thought, and finally asked; “how long, or when did this start?”
“Right before you came to see me at the store, then your pal Cecil came to see me, and the feeling subsided, well, not really, but I felt better,” she replied. “So, this was before you had the book, and as far as we know, Cecil was fine up until he saw you.” “Hmm, I need to read up, objects can’t be possessed, only cursed, BUT the curse may be a demon.”
“A demon?” Joanna asked.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, I know the stories, I just can’t wrap my brain around it,” Vince replied.
“Ok, I’m in" Joanna said, seemingly rejuvenated from their talk.
Vince responded with a smile, “great, we need to speak to somebody with some background in this stuff, but I have no idea who to talk to.”
Joanna thought a minute and said, “I have a friend in Pittsburgh, Adam, he’s considered an expert in religious demonology and exorcisms.”
Vince chuckled and said, “well look at you with spooky friends.” “Ok, let’s sleep on it, and see how we feel in the morning. Do you want me to take the book with me”, he asked.
Joanna replied, “no, but the guest room is empty, so if you want, you can crash here.”
During the night, they both dreamt about each other. Joanna was watching Vince herding a drift of pigs through a village of some kind, wherever this dream was taking place, it was in a desert, and other than the pigs, all she could hear was screaming in the background.
Vince on the other hand was watching Joanna as she walked a city street, it was winter in his dream. He watched as she visited a cemetery, and a church, but it wasn’t just any church, this place was all black. In his dream, he tried to get close to see what it was made of, but every time he got close, it seemed to move further away.
After leaving the church, she met with two men, both looked like cops. Then one of them approached Vince, and now he saw the man’s face, he woke up drenched in sweat.
(Track 5 in spoiler)
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Post by wolf on Sept 15, 2023 16:36:35 GMT
Chapter 6
by : Tanith
“JOANNA!” cried Adam by way of answering his phone. I frowned. Adam was a stickler for courtesies; for him to answer by shouting her name was a sign of trouble. He sounded agitated.
“Adam, are you all right?”
“I certainly am not! I’m standing here in my classroom in my pajamas! Thank God it’s so early in the morning, otherwise a student might have walked in on me!”
“Why are you in your pajamas, Adam?”
“I’ve no idea. The last thing I remember was going to bed, so I must have sleepwalked here.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “That’s outrageous.”
“Well, not really,” said Adam in a calmer tone of voice. “My house is just off the campus, you know…to walk over just takes a few moments and it’s healthy…” Adam went on in this vein while I struggled to make sense of this. Adam sleepwalking was like me ballet dancing; it just doesn’t happen. He was a man who valued dignity and order in his life. Nonetheless, I needed his help.
“Adam, what do you know about the Canonicus Inferni, and a demon named Apollyon?”
For someone who has found himself still wearing his pajamas in his place of work, Adam dropped into his professor mode seamlessly. “Apollyon is Greek for “destroyer”. The Canonicus Inferni is a load of horse puckey.”
“What?”
“It’s like the Necronomicon, Joanna. It’s not real. It’s a work of fiction.”
“But—but…” I was flailing. On the one hand, my skeptical nature agreed with this. But what I had experienced—was still experiencing—gave me pause. I glanced toward the guest bedroom; Vince must still be asleep. Adam, not to be derailed, bulled on.
“Joanna, you’re familiar with Paradise Chapel, yes?”
“The supposedly haunted church outside the city? Yeah.”
“You’ve got to be there tonight by 9:36 PM, to be precise. Bring a trusted friend, and please wear silver.”
Now this conversation was truly in la-la land. “Why?”
“Well, 9:36 is when we’re supposed to have that total lunar eclipse…the ‘Blood Moon’, as they call it.”
“We’re supposed to have heavy thunderstorms here tonight, Adam. I won’t be able to see anything, and I really don’t have time to be playing ghost hunter…”
“Joanna, please listen!” Adam was getting agitated again…he nearly sounded scared. He was as skeptical as I was, so I paused to hear him out.
“When I woke here in my classroom, I had a broken piece of chalk in my hand and a message scrawled on the board I had no memory of writing. I’m going to take a picture of it right now, and send it to you. Bear with me.”
“Okay.” Holding my phone loosely in my hand, I went down to the guest bedroom and knocked gently on the door. Whatever this was, Vince should know about it. However, the door swung slowly open to reveal the room ransacked, the bed empty, and Vince gone. I lunged for the box containing the book just as my phone dinged.
“This is what I wrote on the chalkboard when I was sleepwalking,” said Adam. “Does it make sense to you?”
I opened a picture of Adam’s chalkboard with its brief, weird message. The writing was very bold; he must have bearing down hard on the chalk.
With key in hand, enter the shattered temple as the blood moon rises and embrace the Stranger. The hidden gate will be opened.
“The blood moon would be the eclipse,” went on Adam, oblivious to my rising horror. “And if I had to guess I’d say the shattered temple would be the Paradise Chapel…it exploded or something in the Seventies, didn’t it, Joanna? I’m not sure what the key is supposed to be, but I figured you’d know since you live there.”
I made no reply at first; I was fumbling under the bed. I knew it was fruitless; I knew what had happened.
“Joanna? You there?” Adam’s voice was worried. “Any idea what the ‘key’ might be?”
“The key has been stolen,” I replied through numbed lips. “Adam, I’m gonna need help with this—”
I was interrupted by my front door crashing open. Framed in it was Vince, looking very much the worse for wear. Long, jagged scratches, some still bleeding, covered his forearms and his shirt was in tatters. Dimly I could hear Adam saying that he was on his way and breaking the connection, but all I could see was Vince’s badly clawed—and empty—hands.
Where was the book?
“Vince, what the hell happened to you? Where’s the book?”
“Book?”
He looked disoriented and was gasping, as if he’s been running. I sat him down in the living room and ran to get coffee on and my first aid kit. I fought to keep calm, knowing hysteria wouldn’t help us.
Sipping strong coffee, Vince told me all he could remember from the night. “I thought I was dreaming, but I must have been sleepwalking. I was out on Highway 99, with that silly old book under my arm. I didn’t want to go…I wanted to come back, but it’s like I wasn’t in control. Then some animal attacked me from behind—knocked me down, clawed me up like a cat! I hit my head on a rock and blacked out and when I came to, the book was gone.”
More sleepwalking. Great.
“Okay, we’ll figure this out,” I told him soothingly. “Get what’s left of your shirt off, and let’s have no juvenile jokes about it.” Opening the med kit, I grasped his forearm…and froze.
The blood from his scratches had nearly dried. Contrasting sharply against it were flecks of bright green that I recognized immediately…I saw it every day I worked. It was Penni’s nail polish, named “Ghastly Green” or something like that.
Vince saw my face and went pale himself. “Joanna, what’s wrong?”
“That wasn’t any animal that attacked you.” I did not elaborate further, but patched him up as best I could before grabbing an old hoodie from my closet for him.
“Throw that on and have another coffee while I make a couple of phone calls,” I told him. “Then we’re heading back out to Highway 99.”
“Why am I not surprised? That’s where the ruined old chapel is, right? Supposedly inhabited by a Satanic cult at one time? Weird choice for somebody who calls herself an atheist.”
“Don’t test me,” I growled. My phone was giving me a “Service Unavailable” message, and I needed to find out where Penni was and warn Adam.
“Vince, I’m gonna step out onto the porch and try to get a clear signal…do me a favor and put the rest of the coffee in a thermos, and grab some stuff like flashlights…we’ll pick up sandwiches and more on the way.”
On the porch, though, I had no better luck. It could be the approaching storms, or it could be…some other interference. Whatever the case, our destination was clear: the ruins of Paradise Chapel. Stopping just long enough to put on my mother’s silver cross pendant, I got us loaded into the car and headed off to Highway 99.
###
Penni had no idea why her fingers were covered with blood, or why her nails were ruined. She was far past the point of caring about such things. Someone encountering her that day might have said she seemed to be listening to something…and indeed, she was.
AH, YES. THIS WILL DO NICELY, SWEETLING. THE YOUNG ARE ALWAYS THE BEST CHOICE, I SHOULD HAVE REMEMBERED THAT. NO HARD SKEPTICAL QUESTIONS OR DENIALS HERE, AND NO INSANITY TO WASTE MY TIME. JUST A PERFECTLY SERVICEABLE TOOL. THE VERY KEY THAT IS NEEDED.
Penni tucked the Canonicus Inferni into her book bag and hopped onto her bike as the voice went on, not troubling about the things it said. Like the strange presence that had suddenly awakened in her mind, it was something she calmly accepted. She turned northwest on 99, heading for the remains of the Paradise Chapel. If her invisible passenger knew that others were also heading that way, it did not share the knowledge.
Ahead of her in the hot, still air, massive thunderheads were building. It was going to be one hell of a storm.
(Track 6 in spoiler)
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Post by wolf on Sept 18, 2023 14:40:13 GMT
Chapter 7
by : wolf
Poor Jamil Tiafoe had died of his injuries in the ICU before he could answer any questions about his stepson.
The serial killer had misjudged Connors. He was an heir to wealth, not ‘on the take’. And the regular good guy cop, Carter, he’d been teaching and working with on occasion, to help him one day reach ‘detective’ himself.
Connors was with Gilligant, having suspected he had the book missing from the evidence room, when he got the call that Penni Crump had been deliberately run down on a side street right in front of 4 witnesses.
Joanna got her investigative ‘practice dry run’ to the Paradise Chapel done and went back to her bookstore to call Adam.
When she entered she heard the distinctive thuds and thunking of books falling. In the back section a cabinet door clamored disturbingly. Getting to her desk, behind it she saw the cabinet and combination safe doors open. The grimoire was sitting in it.
Just as the crumpled torn page had returned home, the tome had returned to it’s owner of choice. She was drawn to it once again, but with fearful dread as well as the yearning.
Joanna thought back to when it first came to her by way of the now infamous serial killer, currently residing in a mental institution.
She took a deep shuddering breath and called Adam, told him everything, then called St. Benedict’s. She was compelled to see Cecil as he’d asked. And she would bring Adam with her.
***
Cecil sat alone, cuffed to the table, awaiting his therapy session with Dr. Frederick Feld, and observing Fr. Richard Pullium. Both would safely sit at the other table against the door’s wall.
“SUCH ANGER, CECIL.
THERE, THERE.
I KNOW….SOMETHING GREATER THAN YOURSELF HAS USURPED AND DERAILED YOU….”
Cecil writhed within his body, struggling to resurface.
***
“Rick!?
Get the hell out of my desk drawers!”
Feld barked when he entered his office and closed the door.
“I know you’re holding.
Give it, Fred.”
Feld went to a lockbox on the bookshelf. Sitting down he opened it.
“Fine!
Lock that damn door.
Chandler already has 3 packs of my cigarettes.”
The friends took a break before the next therapy session with Tiafoe.
“I think we’re going to get busy today, Rick.
The front desk just called.
Tiafoe is to have a visitation later.
But I’m not sure yet….. if that’s a good idea or not.”
Richard sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“I guess we’ll see, Fred.”
***
In the ‘Individual Therapy Room’, opposite the nurses’ station, the session started out normally until the demon grew irritable. Then angry. The patient’s neck stretched out in a fantastic and madly unnatural fashion. Rolling eyes and frothing mouth were 2 mere inches from Feld’s, the doctor’s glasses steamed from rancid hot breath. Suddenly gray clumpy vomit spilled out and over him. The monster shrieked deafeningly. Richard jumped up and slammed Cecil back away from him,
“Shut up!!”
he commanded.
The killer obeyed and became submissive again with a pleased tittering laugh. Richard grabbed Fredrick’s arm, taking him out of the room.
“Mitch,
get a big bag of kitty litter,
Byron and Sherman,
and keep that damn door open.
Eunice, watch him!”
he instructed an orderly and Nurse Chandler.
Old Mitch muttered with misery,
“Damn.
More vomit.”
Rick took Fred to the bathroom and started helping him clean up.
“You’re okay.
Com’mon, get clean.
I’ll get you a white shirt and black slacks from my closet.”
“No.
I’m not okay, Rick!”
“Yeah you are.
We’ve been through stuff like this befo….”
“Not like this!
Not like THAT Rick!
You’ve been right all along.”
He moaned with shock and fear.
His mind reeled with memories of their past talks and friendly debates. One thing frighteningly echoed,
‘Don’t believe in angels and demons, Dr.Feld?’
‘No.’
‘….you will when you meet one.’
Rick’s voice jolted him back to the present,
“Stop that, Fred!
You have been right too.
You’re a good doctor and do good work.
You know that.
Like I’ve always told you,
just have an open mind.
Our professions DO coexist.
For now….welcome to my world.
When we go back in there,
you do your job.
And do as I say,
not as I do.
My methods are….. somewhat unconventional.
Don’t engage or even look at it. Take the notes.”
While they were busy, Mitch mopped up, Sherman (the tank) held open the door, and big Byron stayed between the demon and Mitch.
Cecil looked past Sherman at Nurse Chandler, grinning at her. He wrinkled up his nose and winked.
“I like your delightful meanstreak, nursie.”
Eunice stared with cold eyes and a deliciously malicious and subtle Mona Lisa smile. She showed him her dangerous looking and huge hypodermic needle, waggling it horizontally between her forefinger and thumb. Reminding him of who administered his meds.
“Behave, Cecil dear.”
She said authoritatively.
“Ohhh!
That’s my girl!
Hurt me baby!
Hurt me!”
Chandler’s smile became a tad more devious as she sat back in her chair relaxing,
“No.”
Cecil threw back his head laughing hysterically,
“I’m in LOVE!”
Fr. Pullium and Dr. Feld interrupted the tryst with their disappointing return.
“Party poopers are back.”
sulked the demon.
Richard planted his palms on the table firmly, staring the demon right in the eye. He wasn’t surprised when it recoiled minutely, sitting back in the chair, and glancing away for a split second. This priest was not like the others it had encountered before. Calmly but menacingly Richard told it,
“I know what you are,
nameless.
Insignificant tool,
a pawn for something else.
I’ve dealt with your kind before.
I want to talk to Cecil,
let him out.”
This priest’s faith was extraordinary. The demon fought obeying, while deep within, Cecil also fought. His body shook and trembled, his eyes rolled back in the sockets.
“Fight it Cecil.
Come back!!”
Cecil struggled and broke through to the surface with a choking gasp, shaking his head and snorting out the gray green bile puke from his nasal passages.
“I’m out, goddamnit!!!
He kicked the table legs violently and slammed around with rage. Richard lowered his voice back down again,
“Stay up front.
Fight it Cecil,
you can do it.”
“Oh I’m back!
And I’m not letting that f******g idiot up again!
I don’t know how,
but I’m going to find a way to get my hands around his goddamn throat and choke the living shiet out of him!!!”
Rick nodded patiently,
“I understand,
don’t blame you.
That’s about the mind,
you can do that,
and fight it THERE.
Will it.”
Cecil scoffed,
“You’re not going to regale me with all the faith, hope, love and prayer lecture?“
“Not going to waste our time, son. I….have an ‘open mind’.
Sometimes with these things,
you have to fight fire with fire. Obviously you’re strong enough to stand toe to toe with this evil thing in your own weird way.
Now tell me what has been going on,
what it’s been saying to you.”
“Are you going to get this damn thing out of me, priest?”
“If that can be done,
I can and I will.
Right now I need to know what this bastard wants,
what it’s up to.
Tell me.”
“Deal….I’ll tell you all I’ve learned from the miserable sack of shiet.”
Rick nodded, and listened intently.
“The personality you heard just now is :
‘Ciloboid the Oid of the Icy Void,
who dreams of Tahiti,
and scrawls on the walls
his garrulous graffiti…..’
the a**h*le has been driving me nuts for DAYS with that b*llsh*t!
I got the son of a bitch shoved down deeper than where it had me.
He’s choking on a turd as we speak. His personality with the more refined voice that quietly booms,
is APOLLYON.
He’s the one that has a real thing for Joanna…..
‘The key that be, sweet misinterpreting Joanna.’
he says,
…when he’s not going on about that f******g book,
and all it contains being read through.
The Oid says,
‘Joanna is a unique and wonderful creature!
She saunters along to the banging of HER OWN DRUM,
and everyone SHOULD stand in awe and admiration,
abandon their own drums,
and follow HER’.
Granted,
the bitch got my attention too,
but this demon is REALLY preoccupied with that gash,
for some reason.
I’m sick of its riddling and rhymes.”
Richard stood upright, his mind clicking, piecing the puzzle together.
‘The book.
A key.
Another greater entity.
….the book contains something really wrong,
horribly vile and disastrous,
or it is a gateway to that thing.’
he thought to himself,
before turning to Fredrick,
“Allow Cecil his visit today, Dr. Feld.
I do believe it’s for the best.”
(Having overheard enough of the nurse’s earlier exchange with Cecil….on the way out Rick smiled and whispered to Eunice,
“You are very good at handling and distracting your patients, ‘Nurse Ratched’ .”
Amused, she replied,
“Why thank you, Fr. Pull’Ums.”)
(Track 7 in spoiler)
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Post by wolf on Sept 19, 2023 14:19:59 GMT
Chapter 8
by : JB darkharbinger
“She will be mine, or she will burn.”
Hellfire - The Hunchback of Notre Dame
After making sure she could have a visit with Cecil, Joanna picked up her phone and called Adam again. At first, he didn’t answer, but on the third try, he finally did. “What is going on that you can’t let me teach my class?”
“It’s about the book. It’s connected to such a mess, and I need your help.”
“The Canonicus Inferni? Look, I already told you…”
A strangle gurgling sound came through the phone, and distantly, Joanna could hear someone screaming. She didn’t know it, but Adam had just suffered a life-ending aneurysm.
“Adam?” She screamed into the phone. There was no reply other than the screaming and hectic words she could not hear. Then the phone went dead.
YOU SHOULD NEVER HAVE INVOLVED HIM IN OUR BUSINESS.
“What?” Joanna asked, startled enough to drop her phone. “Who said that?”
I THINK YOU KNOW, MY DEAR. I THINK YOU’VE KNOWN ALL ALONG.
She looked toward the Canonicus Inferni. “Apollyon?”
DON’T BE NAÏVE. I EXISTED BEFORE HE CRAWLED OUT OF THE ETHER. HE ONLY WISHES TO USE ME LIKE EVERYONE ELSE DOES, TO HAVE MY POWER AT HIS FINGERTIPS.
The world swirled around her, making her nearly fall. “Who are you?”
ASK WHO I WAS. I WAS A SERAPH, RANKED AMONGST THE HIGHEST OF THE HIGH.
“A seraph?” Joanna laughed. “I don’t believe in angels.”
YOUR BELIEF IS IMMATERIAL. THE REALITY OF THIS SITUATION IS THAT WE WERE DESTINED TO MEET. IT WAS WRITTEN IN THE STARS, MY DEAR JOANNA.
As if on cue, the overhead speakers in the shop started blaring, “WOULD YOU LIKE TO SWING ON A STAR, CARRY MOONBEAMS HOME IN A JAR?”
“Stop that!”
THEN STOP WASTING TIME. YOU HAVE AN APPOINTMENT TO KEEP. GO SEE CECIL AS YOU PLANNED. LET THIS COME FULL CIRCLE.
“Why?”
BECAUSE OF THE SYMMETRY. ONLY ONE IS OMNIPRESENT AND OMNIPOTENT, AND I HAVE CHOSEN WRONG BEFORE.
Joanna picked up the book, her will to resist fading. Before she knew it, she was in her car and driving towards….
****
“I don’t think Cecil should have visitors,” Dr. Feld remarked.
“It’s already in the works,” Rick commented. “We need to see what happens and how he reacts. Also, I want to see this book.”
“Why?”
“Why not? I am curious.”
“The book is likely a falsehood or something mundane.”
“You called me here, remember?” Rick asked. “I’m telling you; I think she needs to be here.”
Dr. Feld contemplated that. “Maybe you are right. I guess we’ll find out.”
****
There was a reason that Nurse Eunice was the way she was. She had grown up taking care of others and had grown a bitter hatred for those who could not take care of themselves. Eunice had never had the time to be sick or crazy, that was for other people. So, she took out petty revenge against her patients, nothing so serious as permanent harm or murder, but millions of tiny wrongs that made their lives miserable.
Sometimes she felt bad about this on some level, but now Eunice had a new target. Cecil deserved no pity whatsoever, but he did deserve what he was about to get. Smiling, she went back to him to make sure he was a mess before his visitor came. Restraints and a well-timed enema would help the killer know his place.
She walked into the room, whistling under her breath. Cecil was chained to the desk where he’d been earlier. She’d made sure none of the attendants had taken him back to his bed.
“I have something for you,” she said sweetly.
Cecil looked up and smiled. “I’ve been expecting you.”
“Well, isn’t that nice,” she said, holding up the enema for him to see. “Time to take your medicine.”
“You try so hard,” Cecil said, his voice changing to Apollyon. “But your meanness is pathetic. I’m going to teach you how to really be mean.”
He stood up, the shackles falling limply around him. Eunice gasped, dropping the enema. She turned and tried to get to the door, but Cecil moved with surprising speed and caught her.
“Don’t worry, it won’t be a long lesson…”
****
Joanna blinked and saw that she was at St. Benedict’s. She couldn’t remember the trip or how long it had taken. All she knew was that she was here. Like a robot, she checked in at the front office, a claustrophobic little cubicle with thick glass around it. The guard checked her purse and the book, then gave her a pass and let her into the facility.
The facility was a loud, smelly place. The outer wings were for the less violent and crazy residents, but less didn’t ease her feeling of dread. A few lost souls stared at her and then laughed, and another called out to someone who wasn’t there and then shiet their pants.
“Why am I here?” She asked, keeping her voice low so that no one would hear her. The last thing she wanted was for someone to think she was crazy.
TO READ ME.
“What?” Joanna asked, then looked around. She’d said that louder than she intended.
No one seemed to notice. The guards at each door looked at her pass, then moved her along deeper into the facility. Each wing became less populated and smaller.
“I thought I was here to talk to the man who…”
NO ONE CARES WHAT YOU THINK. NO ONE CARES WHAT YOU ASSUME.
Joanna finally reached her goal, the maximum-security wing of the facility. It was quiet here, far too quiet. Where was everyone? IT’S TIME. READ ME.
“What?”
HEED ME, AND YOU WILL RECEIVE SATISFACTION. DISOBEY ME, AND YOU WILL OBTAIN PAIN THAT THE WORST TORTURERS IN HELL WOULD BLANCHE AT.
Joanna started to argue, then paused. “Satisfaction?” That was a strange word.
YOU HEARD ME. I WILL GIVE YOU SATISFACTION.
“What does that even mean?”
The book was silent. For a moment, Joanna allowed herself the brief thought that perhaps this had all been in her head. Then suddenly, the book became cold, so cold that it burnt. She desperately tried to throw it away, but her hands were stuck to it.
SO MANY QUESTIONS. I AM TIRED OF THEM. WHO ARE YOU TO QUESTION ME? I HAVE EXISTED SINCE THE BEGINNING, BEFORE THE SUMMONING OF THE LIGHT. YOU WILL DO WHAT I WANT.
Pain raced through Joanna’s body. “What…what do you want?”
I WANT WHAT ALL BOOKS WANT. I WANT TO BE READ.
The pain was gone as quickly as it came, and she noticed that her hands were not injured.
“That’s it?”
YES. READ ME COVER TO COVER. EVERY LAST WORD.
Joanna started to ask why but reconsidered quickly. Instead, she started reading the book out loud. The words were foreign and meaningless to her, yet somehow, she was able to pronounce them as if the language it was written in was her native tongue. It was strange, she had glanced through the book more than once and hadn’t seen any of the pages she was seeing now.
YES, MY DARLING, KEEP GOING.
She kept going, her body racked with chills. Joanna didn’t want to read the book anymore, yet she was compelled to do so until, suddenly, she came upon a word she didn’t know.
DO NOT STOP.
“What…what is that word?”
A NAME WRITTEN BACKWARD.
“Whose name?”
THE NAME OF THE ONE WHO STARTED THIS MESS. READ HIS NAME BACKWARD, AND THIS IS ALL OVER.
“Tell me whose name it is, Goddamn you.”
YOU HUMANS USE THAT WORD SO LIGHTLY. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT IS LIKE TO BE DAMNED BY GOD. BUT I DO. NOW READ THAT NAME!
“I can’t…I won’t!”
YOU WILL. YOUR FRIEND PENNI WAS WEAK. SHE SAID THE SAME THING. SO DID DR. MEPHISTO. I KILLED THEM FOR THEIR WEAKNESS, JOANNA.
“You bastard!”
ENOUGH OF YOUR PRATTLE. READ THE NAME. YOU MUST READ IT TO FINISH THIS.
“And then I’ll have satisfaction?”
WE BOTH WILL.
She wasn’t sure she could pronounce the word, but she was going to try. “In the history of bad ideas, that would likely rank number one,” a voice tittered.
Joanna knew that voice, it had been in her head. She looked up from the book and saw Cecil standing before him. He was naked and covered in blood.
IGNORE THAT FOOL. YOU HAVE ONLY ONE WORD LEFT, AND THIS IS ALL OVER.
“How can I ignore him? He is right before me, covered in blood!”
BECAUSE WHAT I WILL DO TO YOU IS INFINITELY WORSE THAN WHAT HE WILL.
Joanna winced. Somehow her eyes drifted back down to the book. Just one word and it was over, this madness could end. Suddenly, the pronunciation of that name came to her, and she started to open her mouth…
“Oh sweetie,” Cecil said, his rictus grin resembling the Joker’s. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
(Track 8 in spoiler)
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Post by wolf on Sept 23, 2023 14:08:13 GMT
Chapter 9
by : docpain2
Mitch had walked in on Cecil and Eunice. It was him that had been killed, not Nurse Chandler after all.
Byron with Sherman, other orderlies and security got the murderer dressed and back under control.
Still in a rare (but rapidly fading) state of shock, for her, Nurse Chandler looked for Dr. Feld and Fr. Pullium.
Joanna’s strange visitation with Cecil continued.
***
Joanna once again returned her attention to the book, looking at the ancient word; K’uOZaA.
Suddenly, the letters started to reform into a new word, and suddenly this was the most frightening word Joanna had ever heard, if only in her own head.
‘Ok, Joanna, you can’t say it.
Keep him talking, if he’s talking you’re safe.’
“Before I finish this, just answer one question.
Why me?
Surely there are others who you could play this game with.”
“Game?” the demon asked.
“Well, bitch, if you must know, you and me, we’ve been playing this game since before that Jew was put the cross.
My brother, yes, he was, he has dads’ sense of humor.
He saved you long before he sent us to the swine.
Trading one animal for another, not much of a trade if you ask me, but he always loved his pets.
Joanna, we have played this ‘game’ as you call it, maybe a hundred times, maybe two, even I get confused occasionally.”
“NOW, FINISH THE BOOK!”
“No, I won’t” she said.
“Oh, but you will, don’t you understand?
Your mine, you will rule with me in our own kingdom!”
“I’m yours?
How is that even possible?”
With this, Joanna closed the book, and there was silence briefly. Even Cecil stopped his blubbering.
Then,
“Think back Joanna, long ago you sought favor for a husband.
Honestly, he was despicable, you will see him very soon.”
Joanna, then as if in a trance sat on the floor; now taken back to a barren land on a mountain top where she can clearly see herself and a man, a stranger. The figure is holding Joanna’s hand,
“got to get closer”
she says out loud. With that, the vision disappears.
The demon voice rose up from the book,
“ah, now you are starting to understand.
You escaped me once, but this time, it will be.”
As Joanna slowly rose to her feet, Cecil looked at her, he looked at her in a way to convey that he was afraid of something she thought, it was her.
“Your face,” Cecil said.
“It’s different, older.”
‘Well, f*@k you very much psycho,’ she thought again to herself.
She also thought to herself that whatever forces are at work here, they are manipulating her, showing her things that don’t exist, or ever existed.
‘Penny,’ she thought.
‘What the hell happened to her.’
Now, firmly on her feet, Joanna started to open the door, on the other side she found Fr. Pullium and Nurse Chandler at the nurse’s station.
Father Rick spoke up, inquisitive;
“what happened in there?
That’s the quietest this place has been in days.”
Joanna responded,
“Quiet?
You didn’t hear the yelling?”
“No, my dear, we didn’t hear anything once you walked in.”
“Didn’t you have a book with you?You didn’t give it to Cecil, did you?” Nurse Chandler asked.
Now a familiar voice spoke up in Joanna’s head,
“tell her you don’t know anything about a book and leave.”
After doing as she was told, almost robotically, Joanna got to her car as fast as she could. She observed that leaving the facility was or at least seemed much faster than entering.
Before getting into her car, she had a sudden urge to vomit, after which, sitting in her car, she turned on her car to hear Billy Joel singing.
🎶”Well, we all have a face
That we hide away forever
And we take them out and show ourselves
When everyone has gone
Some are satin, some are steel
Some are silk and some are leather
They're the faces of the stranger
But we love to try them on.”🎶
“Shut up Billy.’”
Joanne jokingly said to herself as she turned off the radio.
On the drive home, Joanna noted that the voice was gone, or at least silent. She thought about what she had seen and was trying to think about who the stranger was.
Based on the clothing, and the heat, she assumed they were middle easterners. But who was the woman, and what or how are they connected.
Once back at the bookstore Joanna called Vince, he was perplexed by her absence and said he would be over. Joanna went into the back to fire up the Mr. Coffee and needed to do some research.
‘Where did I start,’
Joanna thought to herself.
‘Hmm, maybe with me’
She punched in ‘who was Joanna’ and googles first suggestion was; in the bible. She went with it and clicked the first link.
“A saint?
I’m named after a saint; I never knew that.”
She read on to find that Joanna in the bible was well off back in the day. She was married to a well-connected man who worked for Herrod. More curious is that supposedly she was “healed of evil spirits” by Jesus Christ himself.
www.gotquestions.org/Joanna-in-the-Bible.html
This was all interesting to her, and in a weird way makes what she was told earlier about swine fit into place.
Joanna in the bible was married to Chuza. She wondered if this was possibly the same K’uOZaA at the end of the book. It makes sense, but she’s not sure how and resigned herself to not utter the name aloud.
Vince arrived a short time after. He immediately asked how she was and noted (politely) that she “somehow” looked different. With that, Joanna sighed and started talking.
“I saw Cecil tonight,
He’s flipped his lid to say the least, and, the voice is back.”
“Voice?”
Vince asked.
Joanna grabbed herself a cup of coffee, sat down and started crying. After a few minutes, she spoke,
“I think I’m connected to the book, Vince.
I’m not sure how, I think an ancestor maybe.
Another odd thing,
I’m suddenly able to read Aramaic.”
With that Vince let out a soft laugh.
“So, how does it feel,”
he asked.
Joanna looked up, recognizing the voice, but from in her head, not from Vinces’s mouth.
“What? how did you…”
She struggled for words, but knew. The voice in her head was gone, but now this.
“Who are you,”
she demanded.
“Ahh so, now you see. I’m your long-lost love Chuza.
Say my name baby!”
“Ma…”
She fought for words.
“My long-lost love, I don’t understand.”
“You saw the vision,”
Chuza said
“you and the stranger talking,
you made a deal with,
but promised both of us in return.”
“I don’t know how you did it, but I’ve been in hell and tied to that damn book for centuries.
It’s always found you, but we have never gotten this close to you.”
Joanna sat motionless and again appeared in a trancelike state. The more she heard, the more she saw. Like a B movie playing in her mind.
Chuza began speaking again.
“On the Brightside, dear old Vince is in great shape, he’ll be my new home I think.
And I know you’ll like that too, dearie.”
“Now that we’re together, I don’t need the book.”
“But what I do need is you to say that last lovely word.”
Suddenly the book was in front of Joanna and opened to the last page.
She easily read the Aramaic K’uOZaA to be Chuza.
***
Back at the hospital, a renewed Cecil was awaiting Nurse Chandler’s next round of torture. As she stepped into his room, she approached him, handcuffed and with his back to her.
Suddenly, he lunged for her and within a few seconds, it was her handcuffed.
“Sorry b!tch, your little gulag will have to do without me.”
“How, did you!?….
He cut her off,
“I am a cop you know.”
Then he checked the hallway, and it was clear. He crept through the hall to the one exit, used Nurse Chandler’s key card and exited.
He had no idea what he was going to do but knew that Joanna was the next victim of the nameless stranger. He thought about his pain and deeds and knew he would do whatever he needed to save her from his fate.
Cecil lucked out and found her at the bookstore about an hour later. The smell in the store was putrid to say the least, rotting flesh, and sweat filled the air.
Vince spoke;
“Oh here’s Cecil to save the day.
How’s the family?”
With that, Cecil thought he knew the answer, He grabbed to book off the table and it burned in his hands.
‘burns, sure why not,’
he thought.
Cecil took the lighter out of his pocket and finally spoke;
“You my friend need this, or her, or both, am I right?”
“Screw you flatfoot!”
was the stranger’s response.
“Ok, screw me.”
Cecil then grabbed his lighter and set the book afire.
He grabbed the stranger and yelled to Joanna;
“get out now!”
Joanna ran, and from behind her she could smell the stench of burning flesh and paper, and the screams were endless.
Half an hour later, sitting in the back of an ambulance, Joanna had another vision. This time it was Chuza, and she could see that he was trying to say something;
“I’m still here,”
is what she thought she heard.
As the insurance investigator conducted his tour of the building the next morning, he noted that the books, mostly older, were destroyed in the fire. As he exited though, he heard what he thought was music. He looked, and it was a solitary book that was untouched. When he picked it up, he knew immediately that this was now his.
At the same time this occurred, Joanna was rocked awake by a scream.
The End
(Track 9 in spoiler)
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Post by wolf on Sept 24, 2023 15:29:05 GMT
Happy Halloween 2023 Ka-tet!
From Frank
and all of the Authors!
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