Hell

by Tom Lewis

  It was toward the end of the afternoon that Sean heard a girl enter on the other side of the mesh screen. She began with the usual opening...

  “Bless me Father, for I have sinned...”

  Most of the penitents that day had been students, and he had recognized several of their voices (without trying to), but this girl’s voice was one he didn’t recognize.

  “How long since your last confession?” he asked routinely.

  “It’s been a while, Father. I’m not really sure how long.”

  “Not a problem. What did you want to confess?”

  “Well...,” she began, “there’s this boy at school I like, and I finally got up the nerve to meet him after he finished football practice one day... and he was so sweet and took me out to eat and everything...”

  Here she paused, and Sean wasn’t sure if she expected him to say something. “It sounds nice,” he offered.

  “It really is... or at least it was...”

  “What happened?”

  Sean heard her take a deep breath before continuing. “Well... you see, I was saving myself for marriage... and... well, we were at this party one night after a game, and I got really drunk, and we went for a walk on the beach, and then... we... you know... had sex...”

  Sex was probably the most common thing he heard confessed by the students, so that came as no shock. And he certainly was in no position to judge anyone, nor did he have any desire to. But what struck him was the similarity this girl’s story had to his and Amy’s night on the beach. They were identical.

  “Are you sorry about this?” he asked the girl. It was obviously why she was there.

  There was a pause before she answered; and when she did, there was a subtle shift in her voice.

  “Were you sorry?” she said.

  An icy chill ran up his spine — not just at her question, and the way it was presented, but in the familiarity of the voice.

  “Excuse me?” he asked.

  “Were you sorry you fucked me, Sean?”

  It was Amy’s voice.

  Sean hopped from his seat and went around to the penitent’s side of the confessional. He flung the door open... and there was no one inside.

  He stepped back and ran his eyes across the entire sanctuary.

  It was empty.

  ****

  It was dark by the time Cassie arrived home, and she was an emotional wreck. The voices were gone by then and it sickened her at how willingly she had indulged them.

  School was let out early after Becky’s incident, so Cassie had spent the rest of the day on the pier, just staring out over the water.

  Her mom’s car was gone, and the lights were off in the house when she entered. There was no Rex to greet her this time with his antics. What greeted her was an eerie stillness and the cold November moonlight that sifted in through the living room curtains.

  She flipped on the lights and breathed relief that nothing was hiding in the corners. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and headed upstairs.

  At their top, the stairs opened into a long hallway with Cassie’s bedroom at one end and her mom’s bedroom at the far end. Her mom’s door was closed, like she always kept it during the day.

  Cassie headed into her bedroom. She tossed her backpack on the floor and flipped on the lights. Nothing was hiding in there either.

  She kicked off her shoes and lay back on her bed. She really needed Rex at that moment. Ninety pounds of Rex therapy could always snap her from even the darkest morose...

  A door creaked.

  Cassie stiffened. It came from down the hallway. She held her breath a moment and listened into the silence...

  It creaked again.

  Cassie sat up. “Mom?”

  Suddenly the lights went out and plunged her room into dim moonlight.

  Cassie sat there frozen for a moment, staring into that darkness for any signs of movement.

  Another creak...

  “Mom...” Her voice shook this time. She reached into her backpack and pulled out her cell phone. She flipped on its light and shined it toward her doorway. Thankfully, nothing crouched there.

  She slowly rose from bed and walked to her doorway. She shined the flashlight down the hallway, and its faint narrow beam showed her mom’s door cracked open.

  Her skin crawled like ants as she stared at that door, expecting something to step through it at any moment.

  “Mom?” she called out meekly. But there was only silence.

  She stepped through her doorway into the hallway and saw there were no lights coming up the stairs from the living room. That meant it was a circuit breaker, which was easy enough to fix. She just needed to get to the breaker box in her kitchen.

  She used her flashlight as a guide as she walked down the hallway to the stairs. She shined her light down them and didn’t see anything moving. She took a step down...

  Her mom’s door creaked.

  Cassie swept the flashlight back to her mom’s room — the door was wide open.

  Cassie took a breath. She had to get out of the house. And fast. She started back down the stairs...

  “Cassie...”

  It was her mom’s voice whispered softly, and had come from her bedroom. Cassie stepped back into the hallway and shined her light toward her mom’s bedroom...

  Was it a trick of her eyes, or did something just move inside her room?

  “Mom? Are you okay?”

  She began easing down the hallway toward her room, keeping her flashlight aimed on that open door. There was no more movement, and Cassie was certain now it had been a trick of her eyes.

  She should leave.

  Cassie slowly backed toward the stairs, keeping her flashlight trained on that door...

  “Cassie...”

  It was her mom’s whispered voice again, and Cassie was certain it had come from her mom’s bedroom.

  Why wasn’t she coming out?

  “Mom?”

  She took a slow step toward her room... and another... and then another... till she stood just outside the doorway. She shined her light in. It was the master bedroom, with a large queen-sized bed in the middle, dressers, and a nightstand in the far corner.

  No one was in there. The bed was untouched, and the curtains were closed.

  She was alone in the house.

  “Come in...” an eerie voice whispered from the dark. And it was no longer her mom’s voice. It was no longer a human voice.

  Cassie backed down the hallway to the stairs, never taking her eyes off her mom’s doorway. She turned and shined her light down the stairs...

  Something stood at the base of the stairs.

  It vanished in the light, but it had been tall, like a man, yet made only of shadow and darkness. And while she could no longer see it, she still felt its presence watching her.

  It was coming up the stairs.

  Cassie dashed down the hallway into her bedroom. She locked her door then hurried behind her bed. She crouched down and waited... and watched... and listened...

  Her room suddenly exploded into chaos — objects rattled and quaked. Pictures shook from their hooks and fell to the floor; a glass on her dresser shattered like it had been squeezed in powerful hands; her closet door whipped open, and clothes flew from hangars across the room; books flew from her desk and crashed into walls.

  Then a scratching sound arose from the wall behind her and circled the room. It was like deep nails being torn through wood. The ceiling fan swayed, and its lights flickered on momentarily, then exploded in bright bursts.

  Cassie lunged over to the window behind her and tugged it open. She climbed through it onto the roof and scooted across it to the trellis. She scrambled down the trellis to the backyard then backed away till she stood in the middle of the yard. She was far enough away that she could flee if anything came out.

  She stood there for several minutes watching the house, then finally sat down in the grass. And waited...

  She was still there when Ali
son came home from work three hours later. Never taking her eyes off the house.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The Periphery

  It was a gray overcast morning, and Cassie felt like death. She hadn’t slept at all that night. Alison had come home to find her shivering in their backyard, but when Alison asked her about it, Cassie told her she thought she had seen Rex. It was easier than telling her she saw a ghost.

  Cassie went to school early that morning, and sat at the marble fountain in the courtyard typing search terms into her laptop.

  The first search term she tried was “ghost shadow,” and millions of results came back. That was pretty much useless. So next she tried “ghost near-death experience,” since everything seemed to have started after her revival from the crash.

  Fewer results came back this time, and as she scanned through them, some of them seemed relevant. One result was about a rock band member who had died of a heroin overdose. She clicked that link and quickly skimmed through the article. Like Cassie, this guy had died, and after being resuscitated, claimed to see a ghostlike figure from his peripheral vision.

  This gave Cassie an idea. She typed in “ghost peripheral vision,” and this combination came back with even better results. She scrolled down the results page and found an obituary for a teen who had killed himself after being haunted for several months by a specter he claimed to see from the corner of his eye.

  Below that one was another obituary, and she clicked that link. It was a young prostitute who had died from a knife wound inflicted by her pimp. She had also been resuscitated and later claimed to see spirits from her peripheral vision. She had been sent to the county mental health hospital, where she was later found hanging from a shower head. Foul play wasn’t suspected.

  It was a link on the second page of search results that proved to be the most relevant. The link was to a blog titled “Evil Hides in the Periphery.” She clicked the link, and as the home page loaded in her browser, Cassie gasped...

  There on the home page was a charcoal drawing of the Shadow she had been seeing. And which the website’s owner was also seeing.

  The owner’s name was Kyle Martin, and his photo was posted on the right margin of the home page. She clicked his photo, and it expanded into its own window. Holy shit, she thought, this guy looked scary as hell. He appeared to be in his late twenties, or early thirties, with long unkempt black hair that ran past his shoulders and dark circles around his eyes that told of long sleepless nights. There was also something tattooed on his forehead. She zoomed in on the photo and saw the tattoo was of an upside-down five-pointed star within a circle — a pentagram — an occult symbol Cassie had become all too familiar with during her time with the goths.

  Beneath the photo were links to his blog entries. Cassie clicked the link for the most recent entry that was dated two days ago. It read: “It came again last night. I know what it is now, and why it’s after me. Kyle.”

  That was it? She returned to the home page, where she was again greeted by that charcoal drawing of the Shadow. She scrolled down the list of blog entries, and found one from two weeks ago captioned “Deceased.” She clicked on this link, and it pulled up a list of links to obituaries. Several of them Cassie recognized from her search, but Kyle had listed more. Lots more. As she scrolled down the list, she found that Kyle had added his own comments alongside the links. Things like “rest in peace brother,” or “vaya con dios.” Kyle knew these people. They had all shared this same experience of being haunted by this thing they saw in their peripheral vision.

  And now they were all dead.

  She returned to the home page and bookmarked it. She needed to contact this guy, no matter how strung out and sketchy he looked.

  “Whatcha doin’, Cass?” It was Silvia, who stood beside her. Cassie hadn’t noticed her before.

  “Just searching for stuff.”

  “You’re searching for scary ghost drawings?” Seth stood on her other side, staring at the drawing on her laptop screen.

  “It was on this guy’s home page.”

  “Evil hides in the periphery?” Trish’s voice came from behind her. She was reading the laptop screen over Cassie’s shoulder. “What’s that about?”

  “It’s nothing. Just some stuff I was looking up.”

  “Which brings us to the question — why?” said Seth.

  “’Cause I wanted to.”

  “Bullshit. What aren’t you telling us, Stevens?”

  Cassie took a deep breath. “I’ve been seeing something.”

  “Is it that thing in the drawing?” asked Trish.

  “Yeah.”

  “How long have you been seeing it?” asked Silvia.

  “Since the accident.”

  “So, what is it? A ghost?”

  “I don’t know. But I think so.”

  “Do you know what it wants?” asked Trish.

  “No. That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

  “Why don’t we do a séance, and see if we can contact it?”

  “No way,” Cassie shook her head. “I’m not doing that stuff anymore.”

  “Why not?”

  “’Cause that’s how all this stuff started.”

  “But you want it to go away, right?” said Trish.

  “Yeah. But I also don’t want anything worse to happen.”

  “It won’t. All we’re doing is finding out what it wants.”

  “And what happens if things go bad?”

  “Then we just stop it and close the channel.”

  Cassie hesitated. “I don’t know...”

  “I promise nothing bad’s gonna happen. We’ll be extra careful.”

  “Where would we do it?”

  “It would need to be your house.”

  “Why my house?”

  “Because that’s the place you have the strongest connection to.”

  “Shit. My mom would freak if she found out.”

  “What time does she get home?” asked Silvia.

  Cassie shrugged. “I dunno. Late.”

  “Like, nine late? Or ten late?”

  “Ten-ish.”

  Silvia turned to Trish. “Does that give us enough time?”

  “It should,” said Trish. “We could start at maybe eight. Does that work for you, Cass?”

  Cassie thought about it and finally nodded. “I guess. But we stop if anything goes bad.”

  “I Promise,” Trish said.

  ****

  Sean stood behind the altar with his head bowed over the small Communion wafer that lay on the tray. “... Then Jesus broke the bread and gave it to His disciples saying, ‘Take this, all of you, and eat of it, for this is my Body, which will be given up for you.’” He then raised the consecrated Host for the several dozen parishioners to see.

  It was a weekday noon Mass, so attendance was small, and it was usually the same faces day after day. It tended to be an older crowd, and it was rare to see someone younger than thirty and much rarer to see someone in their teens.

  Amy had been an exception to that. She had attended weekday Masses even when she wasn’t forced to go by the nuns that taught their school.

  You left me, Sean... You left me alone...

  Sean clenched his teeth as those haunting memories from the dream continued their taunts. He replaced the Host on a silver platter and picked up the chalice that sat beside it. He bowed his head over it and resumed the words of consecration.

  “When supper was ended, He took the cup, and again He gave you thanks. He gave the cup to His disciples saying, ‘Take this, all of you, and drink from it, for this is the chalice of my Blood. The Blood of the new and eternal covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins. Do this in memory of me.’” He then raised the chalice of Christ’s consecrated Blood in benediction for the parishioners to see...

  Were you sorry you fucked me, Sean?

  It wasn’t Amy, he mentally repeated to himself, that voice I heard in the confessional w
asn’t Amy. It was only his imagination, dredging up horrors of subconscious guilt he had buried long ago.

  Then who was in the confessional with him?

  This question he didn’t have an easy answer for and could only assume there had been nobody there. All of it, even before hearing Amy’s voice, had been in his imagination.

  Then what does that make you? Crazy?

  He finally had to close his eyes to keep his thoughts from spiraling down that bottomless rabbit hole of questions he didn’t have answers for.

  He had no idea how long he had held the chalice raised, but when he opened his eyes, he saw the parishioners watching him with awed looks. Maybe they thought he had experienced a moment of rapture or devotion. But it was anything but that.

  As he lowered the chalice, an unease stirred within him. It was the resistance he had felt in the classroom, and then again in Jenkins’ office.

  He stood there for a moment, staring down at the consecrated Host and chalice, but he no longer saw them through the eyes of faith as the Body and Blood of Christ as he once had. He saw only bread and wine in their physical appearance.

  Behold your god, an eerie voice whispered in his thoughts.

  He looked up from the altar to the parishioners, who had bowed their heads again in silent reverence. They believed. For them, these elements were now sacred.

  All sheep, that voice whispered again.

  Baaaa baaaa baaaa.

  ****

  A foul wind howled through the night. Trees swayed in the woods surrounding Cassie’s house, and things that normally crept from their dens at night stayed hidden. The night was preparing for the arrival of the dark essence Cassie and her friends sought to conjure.

  Despite the noise outside, an eerie calm lay over Cassie’s bedroom. She lit a candle and placed it on her dresser. Six other candles already flickered around the room.

  Seth, Trish, and Silvia sat around a Ouija board spread out on the floor. Trish sat at the head of the board and would act as the medium. She looked over at Cassie. “We’re ready, Cass.”

  Cassie joined them around the board, taking her seat between Silvia and Trish on the side facing the window.