Diary Of An Occult Resolution Assistant

by Chris Norgate

  The scent of the flowers was still strong in my nose but they weren't as fresh as I thought, not stale but earthy.

  I thought of my actions recently, How did I get so old? I wanted to go to my memory box kept by the side of my chair in the sitting room and.......I was in my sitting room, sat in my chair with the open fire roaring keeping chills, draughts and anything short of an artic blast at bay. I had a mug of tea in my Nannna mug and my memory box open upon my lap; old love letters tied up in ribbon and photos of my parents at my wedding and pieces of scribble from Clara's first day at school and a conker from when I beat Xanthic in a match when I won the deeds to Fernum and moved in with my family and a handful of other meaningful knick-knacks and keepsakes small enough to fit into a silver edged oak box the size of a box of tissues.

  The warmth of the fire relaxed me and drove the cold out of my body and the crackle and spitting of behind the grate was hypnotic dragging my eyelids down and the sounds of my snuffling snores soon began to merge with them and sleep slowly enveloped me. A pain in my chest made me gasp. I had never had a heart attack but I remember everyone saying it was a crushing pain in the chest and arm; well this was a sudden and insistent pain covering my chest and although I was sure I had not screamed out there was a scream ringing around my bedroom where I was led in my bed. I fumbled for the light switch and the single bulb failed to fully illuminate the room.

  The pain began to subside; but the thing with a worrying and possibly fatal condition is it focuses the brain onto important things. How did I get into bed when I fell asleep in the chair? How could I be a grandmother? I feel like a teenager but then I feel like a very old woman.

  Pain gripped me again, ripping through my chest and this time I thought I had broken a rib and I called out in pain and the sound seemed to be matched by the very air around me; not an echo as the voice was male, thin and formless as if it was new to him or forgotten over a vast time.

  I looked out the window and say my husband’s grave covered in flowers, my first view in the morning and last before I retire to bed every night; but the orchard lies in the rear of the property heading towards the woodland and my room, the master bedroom, overlooked the long drive and the gardens leading to Annie and Clive's cottage who still manage the estate for me as they did for Xanthic before.

  My inner Witch was screaming. This is not right, Clive was ancient when I met him, how could he be head gardener still? And Annie was still there by his side, surely even with healthy living, country air and fresh food they couldn't have well over a century and a quarter in them? The orchard, how can that be in front of me? The trees....what was it I knew about the trees?

  "Who's there?" I called out loudly, if there were voices trying to talk to me then it would be rude not to talk back, after all they may talk a lot of sense.

  "He's coming!"

  "Who's coming?" I called back in the direction I thought the voice came from.

  "The ugly one, he's coming, you must wake up."

  I was asleep, or somewhere other than complete consciousness; I could see it now, the identical trees, Annie and Clive still going strong, the memories so prominent in my mind of my loved ones but the linking memories, the small things were not, when was I last ill? Did Clara ever fall over and hurt herself? When was I last on the loo?

  The room I was in was always the same, everyday it was identical; chairs, the bed, even the spiders I evict with great care when I dust are always in the same crannies in the fireplace when I do the task a week later. Too many errors, or perfections? Either way it wasn't the real world I knew that now.

  My memories box was in my hand and I pulled out the letters held within, my letters written to me by hand in ink from a time when email and text ruled supreme. I started to read and remembered those first tender days of a blossoming romance that grew into a deep love and trust that lasted a lifetime; and here, a ring given to me on my wedding day by my mother who walked me down the aisle because Dad had broke his leg, it meant everything to me. How did Dad break his leg? I should know this, he was in plaster, always in plaster right up till he......but he didn't die in my middle age he died before I was born and I never knew what he looked like but here he is, in a wheelchair at my wedding.

  The box fell from my fingers, I was being pulled back into......into what? Retrospection, memory, daydreams, dementia? I kicked the box, it was a wicked lie, evil beyond belief. Giving me so much but taking as much in return. I felt the kick was not enough and I stooped to pick it up and I threw it against the stone wall as hard as I could through the pain in my chest and it smashed into fragments with papers, trinkets and a conker falling in all directions but not with the speed of gravity but in a reduced time, then the stones in the wall started to fall out, spooling out; but instead of the dark outside within the expanding hole there was a brighter warm brown gloom with shapes forming as the stones fell and more 'outside' become visible.

  "Ha, you're doing it, you're doing it. Wake up please, please, please, please." pleaded the voice turned from words into cries and I could now see him, a young man chained to a stone, bare because of rotten and worn rags falling from his body. Once fine clothing reduced to nothing with time and wear but the body beneath had no mark or abrasion upon it. Now, the house had dissolved to nothing and I was laying on stinking furs in a grotto dug out of the earth. I was groggy, as if waking after a long sleep and more than a couple of beers the night before and it was hard to think in a straight line but I knew this was wrong.

  "You did it." cried the man, "You actually did it, I knew you would be better than the others, I knew you had strength, I knew, I saw you, I knew." he lapsed into laughing quietly to himself muttering as he did so. "I knew, I did, I knew."

  Where was I and what did I need to do? No time to feel sorry for myself, although I did have a pain still like a cracked rib and what's this? I lifted my collar and saw a bruise in the shape of teeth across my shoulder.

  "Did you do this?" I asked looking at the man and as I did I noticed the chains and tried to see if I could free him. It never crossed my mind whether I should free him or what he might do, I guess that showed my inexperience in these things or highlights my humanity.

  "Yes," said the man. " needed to wake you up and you looked like you could hear me, but it wasn't enough. I bit you, scratched you and kicked you. I am very sorry for that, mostly because whatever you have protecting you is extremely protective. I lost a tooth because when I bit you, something bit back!"

  "Did you have to kick me so hard?" I enquired feeling what I was sure was a broken rib under very tender and swollen skin.

  "I had to, but if it makes you forgive me quicker I think you broke my toe when I did; but after I slapped you, you moved out of my reach and I had to wake you. He's coming."

  "I don't know, I have a spell on me for protection but I don't know how it works, but please tell me who’s coming? What's going on?" I pleaded, I needed more information and it felt like I had dropped into this nightmare from such a sweet dream and it was taking me time to catch up.

  "He is, the ugly one. He keeps us here, I don't know why, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know."

  He looked distressed and the collar around his throat kept him in place and heavy chains linked to his arms and legs tethered him to the stone against one wall; I could see past him to a small nest made from disgusting rags where fleas jumped and scraps of food and bone festered in the dark corner.

  There was a tunnel off to the side, a rope tied to pegs stuck into the walls held a tartan rug acting as a curtain separating the room from whatever else lies beyond. It wasn't big enough to cover the entrance in it entirety and I could see a small creature ambling its way along the tunnel carrying a wooden bowl; it looked like a small child in its gait, moving with small steps but at a pace. I didn't know what to do, there was no place to hide in here and no weapons to hand to defend myself from what could turnout to be anything. I led back down hoping to ape my previous pose and buy me time to thin
k - oh I envy those that can act in an instant and always make that critical but correct decision.

  The thing pushed through the curtain and threw the bowl onto the floor in front of my fellow captive and half its foul smelling grey watery soup sloshed over the side; it didn't put off the man from filling his mouth and swallowing it down in great gulps. The thing then savagely kicked him and laughed. I knew this thing was evil. You can never tell by looks because no-one can help how they were created but everyone can help how they behave and this thing took great pleasure in the pain it caused. Now it was closer I could see its small head, large ears and a protruding nose gave it an almost comical appearance: But the black eyes, sharp overhanging teeth and long fingers that ended in talon-like claws that finished off its thin grey skinned bony arms gave it a nightmare visage. It went to kick the man again and I leapt from my prone position and pushed the thing to one side sending it tumbling. It was like touching a snake, thin and delicate looking but packed with muscle and sinew and you knew it could do more harm to you than you could to it.

  The man cried in despair as if all hope was gone and the creature hissed and leapt agilely to its feet and raked the air with its claws.

  "No no no no no, " cried the man, "It’s all over, he'll kill us now for this."

  "Shutty face Hoo-man," rasped the thing. "I bitey you girly now, taste you flesh in my belly ha, Master will not beat me if you fight first yes yes."

  Then it came at me, a jump propelled it at waist height through the air and it covered the short distance without effort. I reacted without thought, there was no time for thinking I rounded my shoulder to pull myself into the smallest space I could. The creature was on me and I could feel its clawed fingers grab onto me and it’s ugly wrinkled face pull towards mine as its foul hot breath engulfed the air around me as it laughed uncontrollably with glee over what it was going to do.

  A blinding flash and a crack that reminded me of an electrical terminal sending out a bolt of power happened the moment the evil creature touched me and instantly a smell of ozone and burnt meat masked the other un-aromatic scents of the dug out room. The thing, whatever it was, was now in the corner in the darkest shadow screaming foul obscenities at me in multiple tongues. I did not know the meaning or translation of a lot of these words but I knew swearing and cursing when it was aimed at me in any language.

  The man looked shocked, at first I though him concerned that the creature had attacked, but then as I looked over and moved towards him he backed away in fear.

  "What are you? What did you do to it?" he asked with open eyes as wide as poached eggs and just as runny.

  "I don't know, but I think it’s something to do with this." I said revealing my tattoo. The outlines glowed black - and believe me black can glow, I didn't realise it could but it throbbed with darkness so it stood out and pulsed under my skin. The symbols or words that marked the major points across it hinted at shades of purple in a circle almost as if a radar screen was within my chest spinning around and highlighting each symbol in turn.

  "You cannot be here." screamed the creature in broken English mixed with what could be ancient Hebrew or Klingon for all I knew. "you are not welcome here, go, go, go ,GO!"

  I pressed my advantage over the snivelling wretch of a thing and stepped towards the dark shadows at the back of the room, I saw the creature try to pull its bony body into an impossibly small recess, it faired as well as a large dog trying to push its head into a small rabbit hole.

  "I will not go. I came here for a reason. To collect a package You give it to me and I will leave with it." I purposefully used small sentences to mark my point, snapping each one off with as much authority and strength as I could muster without allowing fear or stress to enter my pronunciation. The creature tried to wriggle itself through the solid earth wall to escape my gaze upon it and it gave a long drawn out scream of terror. It then cried, large tears forming in each of its dirty bloodshot eyes that turned to rivers that washed dirt and grime down its cheeks and showed a softer pink bellow.

  I took pity on the thing and formed my face into a softer image. I hadn't realised how I had screwed it up and with the release of tension in the muscles I realised they ached from distortion as I shouted at it. I backed away and folded my arms across my chest, not wanting to back down entirely and show weakness; but I did think to myself what would I have done if it came at me again or had continued its defiance in the dark. I wouldn't have been able to kick it or attack with my hands in anyway, even if I had little options I knew that as fact; but what would I have done? Luckily I didn't need to find out because the small thing started to unfurl and step slowly out of the shadows and into the flickering candle light around the edges of the rough dug out room.

  "The package," said the thing. "you can't have it, it’s the Master's and he will not give it away."

  "Who is the Master?" I asked, I knew there was a capital M on the title, there always is when an underling says it for dramatic effect. "I have come for a package and I will leave with one or I will get very angry with you." I stamped my foot hard in its direction and it flew off towards the curtained partition crying loudly waving its hands above its head as if to ward off any attacks that might be targeted there. I followed, carefully looking at what was ahead of me down the tunnel incase more of these things were there waiting.

  "Don't leave me." came a thin voice behind me and I was shocked that I had forgotten all about the man that was chained there.

  "How can I release you?" I asked looking around for keys, a saw or any other way of removing manacles from flesh without causing anymore damage than was there already. I felt useless, unable to do anything for the man, but I approached and pulled on the chains which were deeply embedded into the stone. The cuffs and neck brace were fastened hard with a large lock that was as old as the hills but not as corroded as needed to pull it apart. The man looked sad and hung his head low, pulling away from me and sitting against his anchor pulling himself into a ball, hugging his knees tight to his chest.

  "I fear no one can free me from this because it is I who put myself here."

  With nothing else to do I turned and left the man to his fate cursing with every footstep I took away from him that I could not help more and promising myself if I could I would come back for him. I did not vocalise this promise because deep down I didn't think I would ever leave this place, let alone be able to take him with me.

  The corridor reduced in size and my head brushed the ceiling caused loose soil to fall in a shower onto the compacted earth floor but more annoyingly down the back of my neck; but it didn't last long and the walls opened up to a wider and taller passage that led into rooms that started to be furnished by old but well made tables, floors covered by worn but very serviceable carpets and upon the walls hung oil paintings in ornate frames, all of which grew in stature and quality as I neared the end of the passage and a well made but heavily worn burgundy red door.

  Well, I've come this far and there are no other ways to go so forward is the only option. I was still cautious and it took a second to build enough courage to open the door; in this time I could hear the wretched creature’s voice conversing with another, but this other had a richer more bodied tone.

  After confirming with myself there really was no other solution, exit, path or escape route I held my clenched fist up to the door so my knuckles could knock the door but hell, why advertise my arrival and after all I am really pissed off.

  The door slammed into a table inside the room casting the objects that rested upon it to fly into the wall. I was pleased to see the creature jump physically into the air at the disturbance and, like a cat, swiftly hide behind a large wooden chair. The chair was not empty and housed the body that generated the other voice. It belonged to a blond haired man, full breaded and not yet middle aged. Blue eyes looked out over gold rimmed circular glasses that were smaller than practical and gave the impression his nose had mouse ears. This person did not look at all disturbed by my hasty entr
ance and I was now struck by nerves in the doorway. Shit, what do I do now?

  I walked into the room, head held high and making full eye contact with the man who seemed to be highly amused by my actions. I manoeuvred around a chair opposite his and sat down. There was a hard object now stuck into my leg causing discomfort and the start of a numb bum but I ignored the sensation as I didn't want to go fidgeting around my arse in front of this pair of complete tossers who imprisoned me, gave me cruelly untrue family related dreams caused by who knows what hallucinogenic drugs or black-magic’s and left me and my cellmate to our fates at the hand of that midget thing. I held the blonde's stare for a long period of time, I was thinking through possibilities of how to proceed but as I did I started to feel that my normal actions would soon lead to disappointment on my part. Then I thought about what I wanted, freedom being the top of my list and how I really wanted to see Xanthic one more time; it's impossible to love him, being in his company and seeing how he interacts with those close to him soon tells you that even platonic love between Demons and man isn't possible for long - although a long history of demons, man-demons, demon-men cross breeds and people that carry the blood of Demons clearly state that some kind of love had happened or at least another four letter L word either consensual between all parties of not, had occurred. The only thing that confirms the Demon blood in any body - to me anyway - is the music that it creates as it flows. From where the music comes from I do not know and if I get out of here I will do a great deal to find out, and.....well seeing Xanthic again will help me greatly with this; I also missed his arrogant charm, but I would never tell him that.

  "Ah, the strong silent type, and here was I believing you would crumble first." said the man shifting in his seat so he could lean across the gap between us; I was deeply thankful there was a good six foot separating us.