Possession

Reads: 76  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic


A man saving a cursed woman.

Submitted: June 03, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 03, 2018

A A A

A A A


The following is a documentation of a paranormal experience that I had dealt with in my early days of priesthood. It has been many years since this occurrence, and I have lost contact with all of the members involved. While I do not remember their names, I do remember the events that took place. This documentation is entirely written from memory alone.


The doors of the cathedral cracked like thunder as they burst open. A group of frantic women ran inside, calling out and pleading for assistance. It was late in the winter and, since I had been left in charge of overseeing the chapel that day, I approached them. As I did, all I could see was the wild frenzy in their eyes. They lunged toward me and pulled at my shirt, dragging me in the direction of the door. I pressed them to explain this hysteria, and they, between the spurts of their cries, responded in certainty. They told me that their dear friend had been inflicted with a terrible curse. They claimed that she was suffering and in desperate need of help from the clergy.


I entered the home of the ailed and afflicted friend, clutching tightly onto my holy instruments. We navigated through the dismantled and dirty home to where she laid in her room. Her body sunk into the stained sheets of the bed and her hair—a mangled and unkempt mess—sprawled across the pillows as her drooping eyes weakly scanned the room. She was a frail thing, deprived and depraved.


The friends had confided in me that this woman has had a sudden shift in behavior as of late. She no longer found interest in the things she once loved. While she had always been an extroverted and lively soul, lately she had been going out less and less. Even when she did, she’d be dressed in rags, bearing deep and dark circles under her eyes. Her demeanor had become bipolarswitching between depressive and erratic states without a warning. Her eyes now seemed empty, even if she was wearing a bright smile. Her friends had also noticed bruises peeking out from beneath the collar of her shirt and the cuffs of her sleeves. If anyone had started to ask questions, the woman would only avoid them entirely, or simply make outrageous excuses instead.


With that in mind, I leaned toward the reclining woman and began asking a series of questions, voicing the concerns of her beloved friends. It was not long before I knew what I was dealing with. She opened her mouth, but it was not her who spoke. The voice was a separate entity entirely who only tried to assure me that there were no problems to be found. It blamed the friends for being too paranoid; it dismissed the bruises as accidents. When I continued to sift for the truth, the woman’s demeanor grew more aggressive. The words that left her lips became bleached with slurs and curses. Eventually, the only thing it did was insist for us to leave the property that instant. Finally, I held out the holy book and offered it to the woman for guidance. She snatched the book from my hands only to throw it back at me. The voice demanded our departure with a vile hiss. Her behavior, the voice and the instinctual repellent of help all pointed to one condition. All the signs were there; this poor woman was under the possession of something monstrous.


I informed the woman’s peers that an exorcism was needed. After weeks of returning back to the residence and insistently making suggestions, we all tried to make the woman comply. During that time, the bruises she bore darkened and her symptoms only grew more severe. It was apparent to all of us that this exorcism would have be held against her will. We agreed that we would restrain her if need be. In this particular case, the end would justify any of our means.


It was on the spring equinox when we carefully entered the home and found her weeping in her bed, scars running up and down the sides of her body. I firmly explained why I was there and what I was going to do. She listened, but she was facing the opposite direction. As soon as I began reading the rites, I could see the tension build up in her muscles. I commanded the expulsion of the demon that tormented her and the woman snapped upright and cried out. She began shaking in violent motions and her friends had no choice but to hold her down.


“I can’t let him go!” She cried, but the voice was still not her own., “He’s all that I have!” This was the effect of the monster’s manipulation at play. I commanded for it to leave its host. Her body twitched and contorted in inhuman ways. Her veins swelled and bulged out and her nails dug into the mattress and into the arms of her friends.


“He never meant to hurt me!” The voice screeched, “I deserved it anyway!” More effects from the beast’s brainwashing. I stood defiant and kept attempting to cast the demon away. The woman squirmed, kicking and punching to try to escape. The friends’ grips were tight and their love was more powerful than the woman’s plagued delusions.


“But I love him!” The voice screamed in pathetic desperation, futilely trying to convince me and the woman that it was true, “And he loves me back! I know he does! He just doesn’t know how to show it! He can change! Everyone’s making him out to be worse than he really is! He’s not a monster! He’s not an abuser! He loves me! He loves me! He loves me!”


The voice chanted this over and over, bleeding out excuses left and right in an attempt to divert me from getting the job done. I read her the rights, and amidst the storm of words flowing out from her lips, I continued to complete the exorcism for her own wellbeing. I raised my hands and, like the Lord striking down his foes, I demanded the foul leech to expel himself from his victim. I spoke in a holy tongue and I witnessed the monster unclutch its prey. The venomous parasite hissed as it detached itself from the woman and flung itself out of the home and into the bleak night.


The tension died down and the woman breathed deeply as her body sunk back into her bed. Her eyes were swollen and her mouth was sore form the crying and the screaming. But she was free. Her friends sighed in relief and promised to never let another creature like that lurk in. The woman wore new scars that were given to her during the expulsion. It would take years for them to heal, but I knew that she knew that the exorcism was not a mistake.


I returned to my place of worship, a sanctuary for victims of all things unholy. The woman, nor her friends, returned, but I presume that if any new problems arose, that they would simply come and find me. From all my past experiences and past exorcisms, I’m sure that the woman will be fine. While it may be possible for her to fall back into temptation and back into a black pit similar to the one she was in before, it is just as likely that she won’t. I hope and pray that has she has grown stronger since that exorcism; I hope and pray that she will not let another monster like that control her again.


We all have the capacity within ourselves to discern the difference between communions that are stable and ones that are toxic. However, I am fully aware that sometimes that power of discernment can be blinded. Then again, that is why I am here. To unsew the threads fastening a victim’s eyes, that is my job. To bring light to those stuck in darkness, that is my role. To unpossess the possessed, that is my heavenly duty.


© Copyright 2018 Franklin Rayeski. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: