She stood watching with her mouth agape. His behavior was odd enough as it was, but all the symbols, Arianne recognized, were Satanic in origin as she recalled from her study of the paranormal and possession. And on top of that, Jack was using his own blood to create the disturbing panorama. He had used a small paring knife to slit open his hand and the blood that was not on the walls had splashed down his arm and across his chest and legs. The linens, the floor, just about every surface she could see at the moment had been splattered as Jack had run from wall to wall. He was so engrossed in his efforts that he did not even turn as Arianne stood in the door…he had not heard her even as she gasped in horror.
She ran to pull him away from his current drawing and to put an end to whatever it was that had gotten into him to engage in such a sacrilege. But as Arianne spun Jack around and looked into his face, she saw the emptiest, black, menacing eyes she had ever seen in her life. No wait…these were like the eyes of the man in the mirror…Brewster. Jack’s soft, loving blue eyes were nowhere to be found at the moment. The cruel realization of this caused Arianne to pause and in that split second of hesitation, Jack reached out, grabbed her roughly around the throat with a single hand and then tossed her like a rag doll across the room. Jack had always been a strong guy, from all those sports she guessed, but the grip now was like the strength of many men.
Arianne sat up after shaking the cobwebs of the impact against the wall of the bedroom from her head and knew that whatever that thing was that was decorating the bedroom walls was not Jack Sawyer. With no more regard or concern for her, the Jack-thing, as Arianne was now seeing him as, grunted in annoyance and returned to its artwork. Arianne realized that some entity here at Harmony House had taken over Jack’s body. And from the look of his dead, shark-like eyes, her best guess was Mr. Brewster. Without another moment’s delay, Arianne sprung from her rear and onto her feet and dashed downstairs to gather up what materials and texts she would need to try and evict the entity from Jack. When she returned, the Jack-thing was still drawing away madly, stopping only to open a new vein here and there for fresh blood.
She laid out her things and opened her thick text to the section on exorcisms. She began right away and as soon as the first words of the ritual were out of her mouth, the Jack-thing arched backward violently and uttered a piercing howl of anger and pain. The intensity of its response shook Arianne initially and she trembled with fear as it turned to face her, the eyes, while still black and lacking any semblance of life, had now taken on a pointed glow making her want to flee. The thing emitted roars of rage and vengeance as it began to come toward her slowly, fresh rivulets of blood dripping from the new incisions and onto its feet. Arianne stumbled as she back-pedaled and the thing was on her in a flash, both its vise-like hands grabbing her throat and squeezing hard.
Arianne knew she was no match for the brute strength of this thing and that if she did not do something quick she would soon be dead of a broken neck or worse. As black flecks began to dance through her vision, she knew time was of the essence, as her air supply was quickly disappearing. Fortunately, though, when the thing had rushed to attack her, it had knocked over the small nightstand beside the bed and a vase that had been on the table was just within her reach. As she struggled for breath and to keep her last bit of vision, Arianne stretched her fingers out as far as she could until she found the heavy glass container. Gripping it despite the mixture of sweat and blood that was on her hand, she raised the vase and brought it across the thing’s head as hard as she could.
Immediately, the Jack-thing fell on the floor just across her legs and its hold on her throat was released. Arianne choked and coughed as she fought to bring in great gulps of air while scooting backward to get out from under the thing in case it was still conscious. But as she freed herself from the weight of its body, she saw it was not moving and despite what had just happened, Arianne instantly realized the physical body of the thing was still her beloved Jack and she was petrified that she might have actually killed him with that massive blow of the vase. But as she looked closer, it was still breathing and a quick check told her it still had a pulse, though it was erratic and thready.
Not wanting to wait until the possessed Jack might regain its consciousness and come after her again, Arianne tied him securely with twine from the kitchen so it could not rise up for a second attack. As the thing began to come to, Arianne began the exorcism ritual again. As she spoke and used the various herbs and salts of the ritual, the demon within Jack struggled against the ties and howled and yelled at her in a voice that seemed to rattle the inner walls of the house. She did not know how, but the binding seemed to be holding the thing intact. As she neared the final passages of the text, the thing let out one last mighty bellow and a foul, greenish/yellow cloud flew from its mouth and slipped through a crack under one window and disappeared into the overcast sky.
As soon as the demon departed from Jack’s body, he collapsed and soon gave the appearances of the old Jack she had always known. His color was normal rather than the pale, sickly pallor from before, his eyes were now back to that sky blue that Arianne loved, and he looked up at her in full recognition knowing who she was at last. Arianne rushed to him and hurriedly undid the ties, explaining as quickly as she could about what had happened.
“Did I hurt you, Ari?” Jack asked as he rubbed his ankles and wrists where the ties had abraded his skin.
“I’m OK, Jack. And it was not really you, so do not worry. However, I am afraid this is not all over just yet, and I could really use your help.”
“Just tell me what to do…”
During the exorcism of Brewster from Jack’s body, Arianne had sensed that his presence had likely rubbed off or at least influenced a number of the other lingering specters that were still attached to Harmony House. Sure, she had most likely cut off the head of the snake, but that did not guarantee that more snakes had not been born of Brewster’s vile being. She brought the book over so they both could see the text.
“Just read along with me, Jack. Strong and authoritative. It may make no sense to you as you read it, so just do your best.”
He nodded and they both began reciting the ritual from the book as Arianne continued her work with the herbs and salts. As they read, there was a distinct change in the house’s interior. Jack looked to Arianne with concern in his face, but she just smiled and he continued the reading with more confidence…
Harmony House…Harmonious Once Again…They Hoped
Suffolk, Virginia
July 6, 1998, 5 PM
As Arianne continued applying the herbs and salts, Jack took over completely with the ritual text and they stood back holding hands as the house began to vibrate. The walls hummed as voices from all around them came to life as if they were real again. There were men’s voices as well as those of women with a few from children in the mix to round out the chorus. And in an unprecedented event, for Adrianne, but especially Jack, the ghostly outlines of various specters made themselves visible as they flew about diving and dipping in a sense of release or freedom. Arianne smiled widely as she stood back and took in the spectacle as well as the look of utter disbelief and incredulity on Jack’s face, his jaw hanging down and his eyes wide open with amazement.
Some of the spirits, while not presenting any real danger to them, as far as Arianne could guess, cried out in pain pleading for help, while others looked simply relieved to have been released. Some uttered mildly evil-sounding laughs, but even these borderline malevolent displays struck Arianne as show more than substance. As they stood and watched the number of entities grew in number, so great at one point that neither Jack nor Arianne could see any of the room for all the activity. As well, the volume of voices swelled up and they had to clamp their hands over their ears to drown out the bulk of the racket. For just a few minutes, Arianne began to worry that what she had initially seen as a non-dangerous situation might be headed in that direction.
The walls of the house began to r
attle and shake and pieces of loose plaster from the ceiling and walls broke free, flying with speed that seemed impossible. She grabbed Jack and pulled him from the room just as the large overhead light fixture exploded into a million shards of prickly splinters, covering the furniture and floors. They dove into the hallway fearing the whole place was about to come down on them.
“Get up, Jack!! We’ve got to get out of here!!”
“What’s happening?” he shouted over the deafening noise just behind them.
“I think we may have overdone it with the exorcism ritual. I had no idea there were this many ghosts hanging around here. And they may not be as benign as I had hoped…”
With no more encouragement required, Jack scrambled across the hallway floor as Arianne crawled after him as quickly as she could. Just when they thought the noise would cause the house to implode, there was an enormous single bang and a brilliant flash of green light was emitted from the parlor where all the ghosts had been flying about. The light was as intense as the sun and both Jack and Arianne were glad they had not been looking that way. However, following the loud bang, the blaze of brilliant green light went out and the house went silent once more. A few stray bits of plaster and wallpaper and other fixtures pattered to the floor, but otherwise, it was oddly quiet. Jack helped Arianne to her feet and they both crept cautiously back through the foyer to take a look.
The room was a mess. Furniture was in shambles, and the entire parlor was littered with fragments of plaster, wood, glass, and wallpaper. There was a massive dark star-like discoloration on the ceiling. But the room was devoid of anything else…certainly none of the entities that had manifested were remaining. Jack looked to Arianne questioningly.
“Well?” he finally asked as they walked further inside.
“I think we did it, Jack. I think the house is clean and all those spirits are at peace at last.”
“You sure?”
She shrugged.
“It sure feels that way to me. The aura of the interior of the place does not have any of that vibe I felt when we first arrived.”
“You ever see anything like that before?”
“Can’t say that I have. But with all of this, it sure seems like a good foundation from which to launch our business.”
“You think people will just take our word for it?”
“That, my dear, may not matter…”
Jack looked puzzled as Arianne just looked at him with a sly smile. She then walked over to the old credenza she had picked up at K&L’s in town, the second-hand furniture store. She opened the right-hand door and there, still recording was a video camera. Jack looked at her and grinned.
“You think of everything don’t you?”
Arianne shrugged.
“I try…”
……….
July 7, 1998, 9 AM
Suffolk, VA
The following morning the sun was out and there was not a cloud in the sky. The clouds from inside Harmony House seemed to have lifted as well. Jack and Arianne had spent most of the night cleaning up the mess in the parlor, but rather than being exhausted they both felt invigorated and energized. They watched the recording from the video camera from the night before while they toasted themselves with beers. The video was incredible and it would leave no doubt as to their abilities in ghost hunting and even how they could perform a basic exorcism. Jack’s buddy from high school, Jeff Kirby, had gone into an associates program at the community college in Newport News and had become a whiz at web design and development. He owed Jack a huge favor from years earlier—another story for another time—and had promised to set up a website for their ghost hunting business when they were ready to roll it out. As Jack watched bits and pieces of the recording again, he was sure this would be gold for attracting clients.
Arianne was as excited as Jack as she finished sweeping out the last of the remaining debris from the parlor and began to make a list of things they needed to repair the damage there as well as some last-minute items for their business.
“Want to help me tackle those old boxes and miscellaneous junk from up in the attic?” Arianne asked as Jack joined her in the foyer.
“Sure. I forgot we had put that off when we were fixing up the place.”
Jack pulled down the hatch on the opening to the attic and went up to begin collecting the things that had apparently been left behind by the last owner from years ago. He handed down the lighter cardboard boxes that were filled with all manner of clothes and toys and knick-knacks to Arianne and then eased down the ladder with a heavy trunk. They dropped all the stuff out back for the garbage pick-up on Saturday after briefly looking over it all and deciding it was either beyond salvage or just not their style. Just as Jack was about to return to the house, a young kid from across the alley came by on his bike.
Jack had seen the boy around the neighborhood a few times but did not know his name or where he lived. The kid coasted to a stop and smiled at Jack.
“Howdy, Mister…” the boy said.
“Howdy yourself, pardner…” Jack replied.
“You and your wife live over there?”
Jack chuckled at the kid’s assumption they were married.
“We do. Name’s Jack. My wife’s name is Arianne.”
“Bobby. Bobby Wilson…” the boy replied as he took Jack’s proffered hand and shook it.
“You throwing all this cool stuff out?”
“Afraid so, Bobby. Just no room.”
“Could I take some of it?”
“Help yourself, Bobby.”
Jack waved goodbye to the boy and went back across the yard, thinking no more of any of it. Bobby picked through the boxes, not really finding anything after all that he wanted, despite it being “cool”. But down under some of the old clothes, just as he was about to ride away, this glimmer of bronze caught his eye as the sun reflected off it. He dug the object out and found it was a statuette of this bronze cat. It looked like those pictures of cats he had seen at the library from Egypt from long, long ago. This, thought Bobby, was a keeper. It was old-looking but still shone brightly in the sun. He stuck the figurine into his backpack, the cat’s head sticking up prominently from his backpack, and began to pedal off to go find Roger Thorn to show him this cool new find. Bobby pushed off the gravel of the alley, pumping his bike to pick up speed so he could make it up the hill just ahead. He was excited as he went, but could not see the eyes of the statuette…the eyes were glowing a deep red and just then the cat blinked lazily as if it had just woken from a deep sleep…
The Haunting of Abberfield Church
By Riley Amitrani
Prologue
Abberfield Church
Village of Abberfield, UK
1835-1928
Just off the Newall Carr Road, south of the small village of Timble in the Yorkshire Dales, lies the unassuming, but bucolic and memorable hamlet of Abberfield. Historically, Abberfield was not firmly entrenched in anyone’s memory, nor was it likely to come to mind for most people in that part of England. The small village was one of many similar locales in the countryside of central England on the outskirts of Manchester. For generations, Abberfield was a purely agricultural region where industry and other so-called advancements in technology and business had seemingly never taken off. This was exactly how the residents there wanted it. As time passed and the elements of economic growth began to sweep through the country, the people of Abberfield breathed a sigh of relief as they were, in their eyes anyway, spared all the downsides that befell cities nearby.
It was a trade-off they supposed, but upon seeing what economic growth was doing to places such as Manchester, most agreed that they were content to continue living in the simple and placid environment they loved. Abberfield had changed little since the days of locals’ parents’ days or even their grandparents’ days or longer, and most had no desire for anything more. Abberfield itself was one of those places that outsiders passing through might not have even given a second look at. T
he village itself was only a single thoroughfare lined with a smattering of businesses that catered only to the farmers that lived there. Stores for farming equipment and supplies, a hardware establishment, and a place for clothing and generic living accessories, what one in later times might call a “general store” in America, were all that existed.
For anything more elaborate or extensive that might be required by the residents there, a formal excursion south to larger towns and cities would be required. But this never seemed to bother anyone. While perhaps deemed an inconvenience by those in larger burgs, the good people of Abberfield just took it in stride, accepting it as what was required to maintain their preferred way of life. Other than the small assortment of farming-related businesses in the center of Abberfield, the only other remarkable and conspicuous structure was that of the Abberfield Church. The small edifice had been erected many years before by the Church of England (COE) based on requests from a few Abberfield notables that had the ear of certain dignitaries of the COE. No one in the day knew exactly how long the church itself had been in Abberfield, but from the construction details and design and materials used, it was obvious it had been many years before.
The simple, but strong stone walls supported a tiled roof with a small, but distinctive double spire over the front entrance. On both sides of the rectangular stone walls were several stained-glass windows, that allowed a dramatic display of light across the interior when the sunlight hit them just right. The interior was just as spartan and unassuming as the exterior with an array of wooden pews separated by a narrow center aisle that led to an altar just wide enough to accommodate a single speaker. A roughly hewn cross hung from the wall behind the altar. While many other locales insisted on going—at least to Abberfield residents—overboard in the design and display of their own places of worship, the Abberfield Church suited the people there perfectly…it was as many commented:
Haunted House Tales Page 86
