by Willow Rose
Hans Christian had worshipped the Priest. He had kissed his hand, he had let him drive out demons by beating him, he had let him tell him how he was supposed to live right, to be righteous. The Priest had explained to Hans Christian that he was and always would be a sinner and that he deserved to be punished for that. He had told him that he was evil, that within all humans lived evil demons that made us sin towards God. He had also explained to him how they needed to be driven, commanded out before anyone could be truly set free. Even if it was painful to the flesh, even if it meant suffering for hours on the cold stone floor while repenting for your sin, bleeding from the wounds the whip left on your back. Jesus had bled for us; it was only fair that we bled for him.
All that Hans Christian had accepted but when it came to the youngsters in the camp he disagreed with the Priest on many things. He didn’t think they were evil, when Hans Christian looked into their eyes he saw no malice like the Priest did. He saw young people barely out of childhood who had been hurt, some of them gruesomely. Some of them had been misled, they had done stuff they never should have done, but they were not evil in Hans Christian’s eyes. They needed guidance and direction and they needed all the love the disciples could give them. They needed someone who understood them for once in their lives. These were troubled kids with many problems; they didn’t need to be told that they had evil living inside of them. On that subject Hans Christian had disagreed with the Priest and he had protested when he thought the Priest went too far with them. He had told him straight up that it was not right to punish them like that. But the Priest didn’t want to listen. He had a new apprentice now, Isabella, and she had new ideas, that the Priest wanted to try out. She was the one who had led the cleansing ceremony that night in 1998 when … Well after that it was like everything went in the wrong direction.
Hans Christian sighed and sat heavily on his bed. It had gotten dark outside of his room. He wanted desperately to sleep but he felt bad inside. He felt bad because his best friend and great love had died the night before and he had watched it happen without doing anything. He felt a huge load of guilt. What if they had called for that ambulance? What if they, for once, had asked for help from the world outside? Could he have been saved?
Hans Christian sighed again and put his head on the pillow. He closed his eyes gently and soon pictures of the Priest flickered before him. So many wonderful years they had had together building this church. Hans Christian had thought about leaving many times throughout the years and now he was thinking about it again. But where would he go? This was his home and had been for almost thirty years. He had helped built this camp, it was his and the thought of leaving it all in the hands of that woman was appalling to him. But without the Priest then what was the point? Leaving the church wasn’t an easy thing to do. Hans Christian would lose everything. His only friends and family, he wouldn’t have a job anymore and he would certainly miss the youngsters with whom he had worked for many, many years. A lot of the grown-ups in the camp making the decisions today were someone that he had recruited and taken care of when they were just young teenagers in trouble. Now they were like his family.
No one ever left “The Way” once they came here. Neither would he. It was his family and he had to take the good with the bad. Just like a regular family. Plus he was an old man by now. There wasn’t anything for him out there in the world. He would only be miserable.
Hans Christian exhaled deeply thinking how he would try and improve the conditions for the youngsters from now on. He would fight Isabella who obviously didn’t care much about them. They were scared to death now the Priest was gone. They knew how Isabella looked upon them.
Hans Christian looked at the starry sky outside his window one last time before he finally dozed off.
Chapter 11
After dinner Sune started working on the computer while I helped the kids get to bed. When I returned downstairs Dad was slowly dozing off on the couch in front of the TV. Sune had poured the rest of the red wine into our glasses and his magical fingers were working on the keyboard.
I grabbed a chair next to his and took my glass from the table. He was concentrating and I had worked with him long enough to know that I had to keep quiet. He would speak once he was ready.
“Ha!” he exclaimed not long after.
“That was fast,” I said and leaned forward. I looked at the screen and had to admit that I understood absolutely nothing of all the letters and numbers in front of me.
Sune grabbed his wine and sipped it. “It was almost too easy,” he said. After putting the glass down his fingers danced yet again across the keyboard and soon after he turned the screen for me to look at.
I grabbed the laptop and pulled it closer. He had found the police report made this morning with all the statements taken from the church members present when the Priest died. I scrolled while skimming them. All stated they had been asleep when the screaming woke them up. I stopped at Isabella Dubois’ statement.
“If you click here you can hear the recorded audio from the interview,” Sune said and moved the mouse over an icon. Then he pushed the button and a voice filled the room. The voice of an officer telling us the date, case number and who he was interviewing. First he asked her a couple of questions about her name and status and so on. Then he asked her to describe what happened.
“I was petrified. I remember the screams penetrating my dreams and waking me up with a start. My heart was pounding. At first I thought it had been nothing but a dream, but soon I realized that the screams were still there and now they were even worse. They were coming from the building across from mine. I put on a bathrobe and ran across the courtyard thinking that it might have been one of the youngsters who had hurt himself somehow or maybe he was having a bad dream. But I knew deep inside that this kind of screaming don’t come from just an ordinary nightmare.”
“How do you know that?” the officer questioning her asked.
“You just know. These were screams of deep pain. These weren’t screams of this earth.”
“What do you mean by that?” the officer asked.
“I have heard my share of people whose souls were screaming from beyond the grave.”
“Like dead people?”
“No. Yes. People who are possessed. These were screams like that. Coming from a devil trying to take over a poor soul,” Isabella said.
“So what you’re telling me is you thought Anders Granlund might have been possessed by a devil, is that it?”
“Not might have been. He was. I have seen it so many times before and this was the strongest one I have yet met. That was why we couldn’t drive it out of him. We weren’t powerful enough. It took him with it to the pit of hell. And you know what happens when you can’t expel a demon?”
“No, I don’t,” the officer said.
“It comes back to get you. If you let it win it will come back after you. It happened to the Priest once before in ‘98. There was a demon he couldn’t drive out and it came back to get him. Bigger and stronger than ever. The Priest knew it would. He has told us for years that this was bound to happen. We all thought we would be able to drive it out once that happened though. But I guess we aren’t as strong as we thought.”
“So let me just get this straight. You’re telling me, that you thought Anders Granlund was possessed by some demon that had come back to get revenge?” the officer said.
Isabella Dubois sighed annoyed. “Why am I even trying?” she exclaimed. “No one ever cares to listen anyway. You simply don’t want to understand, you don’t want to see the evil that has taken a stronghold of this land, of this area. It will take over and kill everybody if you don’t stop it. Don’t you understand the importance of spreading the word about this?”
The officer was silent. I imagined that he was shaking his head or maybe just staring at Isabella Dubois in disbelief. I knew I would have.
She exhaled annoyed. “Let’s just get this over with,” she said in a harsh irritated voice. “I
can’t help people who don’t want to be helped. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Please explain to me what you saw once you entered the building where the screaming came from,” the officer said. His voice sounded heavily burdened and slightly resigned.
Isabella Dubois sighed. “I saw people standing in the room.”
“Who did you see and where were they at the time you entered?”
“It’s hard to remember. I don’t think I remember everybody who was there. I wasn’t exactly looking at them; the screaming was going right through my bones. My focus was on the person it was coming from.
“Try anyway,” the officer said.
Isabella sighed again. “Alright. I guess I saw Mette Grithfeldt, she was standing on the left next to Soren Sejr, Hans Christian Bille and Mogens Wammen.”
I found my notepad and started scribbling the names down. Sune was drinking his wine. Isabella Dubois continued:
“In the center of the room I saw Peter Hansen standing with Camilla Morsoe.” Isabella paused. “Yes I guess that’s about it. Others came running to the room after I had arrived but I can’t remember who they were. I was focused on helping Anders.”
“Okay,” the officer said. “What were they doing in the room?”
“Well they were paralyzed. They were all staring at Anders who was lying on the floor, curled up in a strange position. He was screaming and throwing up; blood was coming out of his eyes and ears. His hair … he tore it off in huge clumps. It was horrible to watch and there was nothing we could do to help him. Excrement came out of him everywhere and it smelled nasty in the room. The worst part was the pain I sensed he was feeling. It was like something was eating him from the inside. Like the demon was killing him slowly from the inside, shutting down one organ at a time. In his hand he was clutching his crucifix. It was covered in blood coming from his mouth.”
“So what did you do?” the officer asked.
I felt sick to my stomach. Sune stared at me. Our eyes locked and I sensed he felt the same way. What could possible kill a person in that gruesome manner? That fast? A disease? An allergic reaction? It didn’t sound plausible to me.
“I had brought my bible and held it high in the air,” Isabella said. “Then we decided to drive out the demon that had taken possession of the Priest’s body. We all agreed there was no other way.”
“And how do you do that?” the officer asked while exhaling. He didn’t even try to hide that he thought about her and the sect. I guessed he was thinking just what I was. This group was insane, religious fanatics at their worst.
“We command it to leave. We rebuke it. We quote scriptures, chant and sing and praise the Lord till the devil can’t stand it anymore. We tell the Lord to come and be in our midst and help us drive the devil out of this person.”
“And how long does that ceremony usually take?” the officer asked.
Isabella chuckled. “It depends on the demon. It’s size and strength of course.”
“But it would take more than an hour?” the officer asked.
“We keep going until the demon has left the body and the place. It can take hours, sometimes days,” Isabella said. “Sometimes they come back and then we have to do it again with a few months in between. This is powerful stuff it’s not something that will leave you alone just because you tell it to. This takes hours and hours of pain and suffering and listening to the word of God cleansing your body. It’s the only way to be set truly free. If you don’t believe me then read your bible. Jesus and the disciples drove out demons all the time.”
The officer paused. I could almost feel how he was shaking his head in disbelief. As was I. Then finally the question came, the one I had been waiting for:
“The alarm call came from a neighbor at twelve-thirty in the morning but what you describe for me we know from the other statements happened around midnight. Why didn’t you call for help while your priest was in pain and obviously needed professional help?”
Isabella Dubois went quiet for a few seconds before she continued. “He was getting professional help. There is no one mightier than the Lord, the creator of the entire universe.”
The officer sighed. “I meant an ambulance. Why didn’t you call for an ambulance?”
“Because he didn’t need it,” she said.
“You don’t think he could have gotten the help he needed in a hospital?” the officer said.
“No. You’re focusing on the wrong thing here. This is a very strong demon and it had taken possession of his body, killing him from the inside. No doctor, no science could ever cure that.”
I stopped the audio file and looked at Sune. “She really believes that,” I said. “Completely brainwashed. It’s insane.”
He nodded. “I can’t believe how anyone can think like that. Let a man die on the floor without getting help. It’s way beyond cruel.”
“I know,” I said leaning back in my chair. I sipped my wine while scrolling through the rest of the statement. In the end Isabella kept repeating that we should all consider ourselves warned. This was just the beginning of our downfall. This demon would take possession of this entire land, this town and kill all of us. I scoffed and continued reading. The officer ended the interview by letting her know that she and others who were present in the room when the Priest died should be prepared for possibly being prosecuted for not having helped the deceased in his dying moments. This was an offense that was punishable by prison. Isabella Dubois apparently didn’t care much about it since she ended the interview by telling the officer that they wouldn’t have the time to prosecute her.
“This is the beginning of the end for all of us,” she said.
I scoffed again and read it out loud to Sune. He shook his head slowly. “I have heard about religious fanatics but this woman is just plain crazy.”
I laughed and finished my glass of wine.
“More?” Sune asked.
I looked at the clock. It was only eleven. It was after all vacation. “Just one glass,” I said.
Sune got up and went to the kitchen to get more wine for both of us. He found some dark assorted chocolates that he brought back to the table. I swallowed one in a hurry like I thought it wouldn’t make me fat if I hurried up and swallowed it. Sune filled our glasses again while I opened a new statement. This time the officer was talking to a man named Hans Christian Bille.
Chapter 12
It didn’t feel like a dream, Hans Christian thought to himself as he walked closer to the weird green substance in front of him. Somehow he knew it was anyway, maybe because the green stuff was pulsating as if it were somehow alive. It reminded him of the Jell-O that his maid used to serve him when he was a child. Green, wobbly Jell-O when all he wanted was a hug from his mother and her presence.
Hans Christian had been lonely as a child and the solitude was a feeling he hadn’t been able to escape even as an adult, even when he met Anders and started the church. It lingered with him and he would never get rid of it. It was a part of him. Now standing in front of this weird mass he felt the lonesomeness stronger than he had in years. It felt almost like it was sucking all hope and happiness out of him. It grew steadily in front of him while he slowly shrank. It sucked life out of him. He was left with nothing but despair and the old familiar feeling of loneliness, the sense of never having been properly loved. The feeling was so overwhelming it forced Hans Christian to bend over in agony like had he been punched. He gasped for air as the green mass grew bigger and bigger in front of him. He reached out his hand towards it still feeling suffocated. As his hand touched it he spotted his own reflection in the green mass. He didn’t recognize himself at first but the eyes were familiar. It was a boy, himself as just a young boy.
“Why do you look so sad?” Hans Christian said to the boy.
But the boy never answered. He started to cry. Not like children normally cry, but in a quiet way. He stared at Hans Christian while tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Don’t cry,” Ha
ns Christian said and reached out his hand and touched the green mass. It felt sticky. He put his palm on it and pressed through into the wobbly mass. It felt cold and clammy and the shock made him pull his hand back. But he couldn’t. The mass had closed around his arm and it felt like it was trying to suck him inside of it. Slowly he watched as his arm became smaller. Then he panicked. But it was like quick-sand. The more he pulled the deeper in the arm went. The green mass was still growing bigger and made smacking sounds like someone eating soup. Hans Christian moaned and tried to pull his arm back again but he couldn’t. Soon his entire arm was sucked into the mass and his shoulder as well. Then he screamed. He screamed from the top of his lungs.
“Stop! Stop! Please don’t hurt me. Help!”
But he was alone. Just like he had been as a child whenever he heard those footsteps in the hallway of the mansion he grew up in. The footsteps of his father coming to his room in the middle of the night. The smacking sound from the green mass made Hans Christian want to throw up. It was the same sound his father used to make when he put Hans Christian’s sex into his mouth and began doing things to him he never could forgive himself for. It was the same sound his father made at the dinner table while they ate in silence. The same sound haunted Hans Christian for years making him feel uncomfortable eating with other people who smacked their lips, causing his anger to rise. Anger that could kill if he didn’t restrain it. Hans Christian restrained it all he could. Over the years he had learned how to. Whenever anyone was smacking his or her lips at the dinner table in the dining hall at the camp, Hans Christian would leave immediately, go to his room and take out a whip from the closet. He would take off his shirt and whip his own back for hours until the pain was completely gone and he could hear the sound of the smacking lips no more.
