by Ed
Al bowed his head and sighed, "Yeah, I know. Dammit. Poor kid. Hope he's doin' okay."
They had visited him regularly at first, calling him often. But after a while, he started refusing their calls. Then he said he didn't want to see them and one of the doctors told them it might be best if they stayed away for a little while; Stephen was going through some intensive therapy, he explained, and that could be very taxing, but extremely beneficial.
"We could always call it off," Carmen said. "The exorcism, I mean."
"Oh, yeah, and how would that look? Like we were a bunch of fakes who'd changed their minds under pressure, that's how it would look. No. We'll go through with it."
"And if things get worse afterward?"
"Well..." He shrugged. "I guess we'll just have to deal with that if it happens, huh?"
Before the day of the exorcism, Father Nolan asked Al and Carmen to remove Michael and Stephanie and Peter from the house so that when he arrived, only Al and Carmen, Laura, Ed and Lorraine, and the two remaining researchers, Chris and John, were there to meet him.
Father Nolan came to the house wearing street clothes—a pair of black slacks, a powder-blue shirt and a gray sportcoat—and carried a small black suitcase, only slightly larger than a briefcase, as he headed up the walk toward the door.
It was just a little after noon on a warm, bright, and sunny day. But when Father Nolan walked into the house, winter surrounded him.
It was much colder than a house should have been in the summer. It was darker in there than it should have been, too, in spite of the fact that the drapes were open and the blinds were up.
There was a charge in the air, far worse than static electricity, a malignant energy that made every inch of Father Nolan's body tingle sickeningly.
He knew immediately that he was dealing with something much worse and much stronger than he'd anticipated, something that had been in this place far too long and had managed to take root, like an ugly, strangling vine.
"We're not sure what you need us to do, Father," Carmen said as they stood in the hall, "but we're willing to do whatever you ask."
"That's very kind of you," Father Nolan said, giving her a warm smile as he touched her arm. "For one thing, we need a sort of makeshift altar."
"Will a coffee table do?"
"It will do perfectly. For another thing, I think everyone present who is of the Catholic faith should confess their sins and be given absolution."
"I think everyone here is Catholic."
"Then that's fine. I am going to change my clothes, then we'll begin."
"Um, Father, if you don't mind my asking...why did you come like this?"
"Well, I thought it would be better for you. You've had enough priests come to your house lately and, this way, your neighbors won't ask a lot of embarrassing questions."
It had not even occurred to Carmen, but she smiled appreciatively and said, "Thank you."
"Where can I change my clothes?"
She directed him to the master bedroom at the end of the hall, where he closed the door behind him.
When Father Nolan came out of the bedroom, he was wearing a white robe and a purple collar.
The altar was set up on the coffee table in the living room, which still had mattresses spread over the floor.
Private confessions were made to Father Nolan by each person present and absolution was given. Once the confessions were made, Father Nolan blessed the house for the third time.
Then everyone gathered in front of the makeshift altar in the living room.
"First," Father Nolan said, "I would like to say a Mass to cleanse us all...and the house as well."
Everyone agreed immediately and, a few moments later, Father Nolan began the Mass.
Once again, as during the previous Mass, those present began to have silent struggles with the presence in the house. Carmen began to feel a cold hand lightly moving over her body, fingers probing and prodding in intimate places. She squirmed and shifted her weight from one foot to another, but remained focused on the Mass and fought to ignore it.
A finger began to poke Laura in the eyes, first the left, then the right, again and again, then both eyes at once, until she finally closed them tightly and bowed her head in what appeared to be an act of reverence, rather than self-protection.
Al began to hear a voice. It did not come from anywhere around him, but from inside him, in his head. It was, however, just as loud and just as clear as if the speaker were growling angrily in his face:
"What fucking good do you think this will do, Allen? You think this God will help you now? Why? He hasn't helped you before this, has He? Well...has He?
Al took a deep breath, locked his eyes on Father Nolan, and after a while, the voice went away.
But Al's discomfort did not.
Ed Warren began to experience a curious feeling in his chest. It came and went, but it was a familiar one. It was a tight, constricting feeling, not unlike what he'd felt in 1985 when he'd suffered from a heart attack.
Lorraine was experiencing white flashes behind her eyes, as if there were a sluggish strobe light inside her head. Within each of those bright white flashes was a picture: a naked corpse on a table...rough hands on bluish-white breasts...a living male body atop the corpse, face locked in wide-mouthed passion...
And deep in Lorraine's head, she heard the sound of distant, echoing laughter...cruel, mocking laughter....
And then the Mass was over.
Father Nolan faced them and sighed, smiling.
"Now," he said, "I would like to begin the exorcism. But first, I'd like to say a few things."
Everyone was attentive. The demonic harassment had stopped.
"First of all," Father Nolan said, "this may go on for some time. For hours, perhaps. And I want to assure you,"—he chuckled—"no one's head is going to spin around. If you saw that movie, I know what you must be thinking. This may not be easy. We might very well meet with some retaliation, but it won't be like that. It could, however, get unpleasant. It could get rough. I just want you to be prepared."
"How long did you say it could take?" Carmen asked timidly.
"Hours. It could take hours. It just depends on what happens."
Everyone nodded slightly.
"So," Father Nolan said quietly. "Are you ready to begin?"
"Yes," Al and Carmen said simultaneously.
Then Carmen added, "Please."
28
The Exorcism
The moment the exorcism began, Ed Warren noticed a violation of protocol that made him realize that the situation was even more serious than he had suspected. Even more than that, it made him realize that the church knew how serious it was, and that they had sent someone who would act accordingly.
The ritual being used by Father Nolan was the Rituale Romanus, the Roman Exorcism Ritual, which was performed in Latin and which, in forty-two years of research in psychic and supernatural phenomena, Ed had never, ever seen a priest use in the exorcism of a house. It was often used for the exorcism of a person of the Catholic faith whom the church had decided was, indeed, possessed by a demon, but it was never used to exorcise a house.
As the exorcism went on, Ed began to feel, once again, the constriction in his chest that he'd felt during the Mass. His heart began to pound against his ribs so hard that he could feel it in his throat. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the sensation as the exorcism continued.
Carmen began to feel the hand again, but this time it was much rougher than before. Her exhaustion was overwhelming. She thought she might not win this battle after all.
This time, Laura felt more than just a finger poking her eyes. This time, it was poking her all over her body, poking mercilessly, poking everywhere, poking hard...but she knew why: If she were to cry out, she would bring the exorcism to a screeching halt...and she knew she did not want to do that.
So she simply prayed silently and stiffened her back, determined not to pay attention to the things that
were being done to her.
The voice that had growled inside Al's head during the Mass returned during the exorcism. It returned with a vengeance, screaming this time, saying, "You stupid sonofabitch asshole! You think this'll do something, you spineless fucking weakling? You think this'll help, you cocksucking wimp, you ass-licking weakling?"
He closed his eyes for a moment, telling himself, If you just ignore it, it'll go away and this will all be over.
The exorcism continued.
Knickknacks on shelves in cabinets began to rattle.
Pictures hanging on the wall began to tremble, their frames clattering against the wall.
Four hours into the exorcism, Ed Warren's left arm began to ache; it began to throb as his chest grew tighter and tighter.
Beads of sweat began to break out on his forehead and upper lip and trickled slowly down his face as his breath gradually grew short and his heartbeat began to pound in his head.
Ed grabbed Lorraine's hand, clutched it tightly and leaned toward her, whispering in her ear, "I can't believe what's happening to me."
She felt the trembling in his hand, which was very uncharacteristic for Ed, and when she saw the sweat pouring down his face, she became very concerned.
"What is it?" she whispered, turning to him, trying hard not to interrupt the ceremony.
Ed put a hand to his chest. "I think...it's m-my heart," he whispered as the pain in his arm increased and his chest felt as if a steel band were tightening around it, pulling tighter and tighter.
"I'm gonna have to get outta here," Ed wheezed, squeezing Lorraine's hand even tighter as he tried to catch his breath.
She began to lead him from the living room to the hallway, but something happened that brought them to a sudden halt.
The entire house tilted so that Ed and Lorraine were suddenly climbing up the floor rather than walking across it.
Everyone in the room cried out, suddenly clutching one another for balance.
Father Nolan leaned down and gripped the table, but did not miss a beat; he continued the ritual, his voice louder than before, his eyes wider and his jaw set firmly with determination.
Lorraine was not deterred by what she knew to be nothing more than a very convincing illusion, and she continued to lead Ed out of the room, across the hall and into the dining room, where he dropped heavily into a chair, folded his arms on the tabletop and lowered his head weakly.
Father Nolan continued as the others regained their balance when the house seemed to level out.
But it was not through with them.
As the ritual went on, what felt like waves moved fluidly through the floor, making all of them stumble again and again.
Tendrils of smoke rose from the carpet, tendrils that stretched upward like arms and formed hands at the ends...groping, clawing hands...hands that clutched at their legs as they rose...hands they could feel...hands with sharp claws that scraped over their clothes, trying to slice through, trying to get to their skin, to slice through their flesh as well. And then, as suddenly as they had come, they were gone.
The ritual continued.
Perspiration was visible on Father Nolan's face and his hands were beginning to tremble. The strain showed in his eyes and on his unsteady lips.
Suddenly, voices began to fill the room, low, hoarse and guttural voices that were heard by them all and that began to close in on them from every direction...wet, gurgling voices that brought with them a smell...a vile, hideous stench...the reek of rotting, decaying flesh.
"We looooved it..."
"The fucking and the sucking..."
"All that groping and fondling..."
"It was wonderful..."
Then they began to appear, oozing out of the walls and through the furniture like fluid in the shape of human bodies...both male and female...naked and bruised, their bodies puffy and mottled with white and blue and purple...their eyes rolled back in their heads so that only glaring whites were visible...some with their arms swaying limply at their sides as they moved in, others with an arm—or both arms—outstretched as they shuffled, the voices continuing:
"...no god that can stop it..."
"...don't want it to stop..."
"...enjoyed it, all of it..."
"...all that licking on our skin, all that feeling and touching..."
"...fucking and sucking..."
"...groping and licking..."
Father Nolan raised his voice to a near shout, standing straighter than before, his voice growing even louder as he ended the ritual at a fever pitch, shouting the Latin words hoarsely.
They were gone.
The horrible stench had left the room.
Father Nolan was dripping with sweat. He faced those in the room for a long moment, trying to catch his breath. Although he was in top physical condition, he looked as though he had been brought to the very precipice of his endurance.
He turned from the makeshift altar, left the room and went into the dining room, holding a vial of holy water in one hand.
Father Nolan stood over Ed Warren, looking down at him with great concern. "How is he?" he asked Lorraine, who sat beside Ed with her arm around his shoulders.
"Well...I'm not really sure," she whispered hoarsely. "He's had a heart attack before, you know. If he doesn't come out of this soon, we're gonna have to call an ambulance."
Father Nolan sprinkled Ed with holy water, waved his hand through the air in the shape of the cross and murmured something in Latin. Then he leaned forward and asked quietly, "Are you all right, Ed?"
Ed lifted his head from the coffee table and coughed, "Y-yeah, I think so."
"Good. So am I." He stood and said, very loudly, "By the power of Jesus Christ, we are both all right."
Almost as if a heavy blanket had suddenly been lifted from the house, the feeling of oppression, the dark and smothering atmosphere that had permeated the house for so long, was, in that moment, gone.
It was so noticeable that those still standing in the living room gasped with shock when they felt the change.
The house seemed brighter, as if the sun, for the first time in a long while, was finally able to penetrate the windowpanes and illuminate the inside of the house.
Ed Warren pushed his chair away from the dining-room table and stood slowly, carefully, with Lorraine's arm still around his broad shoulders.
He turned to Father Nolan, gave him a weak smile and said, "I think it worked, Father. I think it worked.
29
A Few Months Later
They were moving. Finally.
Laura and Mary had gone back to Alabama to be with their mother. Stephen was out of the hospital, but had refused to come back to the house. He was staying with his aunt until they were moved out. Even then, he guaranteed nothing; he was still very cautious with them and, once they'd moved out, they would have to take their relationship from there and try to patch up all the holes.
The important thing at the moment was that they were, finally and at last, moving out of the house in which their lives had been such a hell.
Epilogue
The Snedekers did leave the house on Meridian and never went back. In fact, merely driving close by made their skin crawl and their palms sweat.
They moved to another house in another Connecticut town, where they went about the slow process of recovering from their ordeal. They still live in Connecticut as of this writing.
And, as of this writing, the white, two-level Colonial still stands on Meridian, as does the twisted, dancing, corpselike tree in the front yard. Tenants have come and gone since the Snedekers left and the house is currently occupied.
Not long after leaving, the Snedekers heard whispers about the new tenants having some strange experiences in the house. They heard that the new tenants were asking questions about the previous occupants, curious to learn if they knew anything about what was happening there.
Carmen felt sorry for them. She feared for them...prayed for them. One evening, she timid
ly suggested to Al that they contact the occupants of their former house and try to help them.
Al turned to her suddenly and lost some of the color in his face as his eyes widened.
"Are you kidding?" he asked, barely able to speak in a whisper. "I...I don't even want to talk to anybody who lives in that house, not even over the phone. If...well, if they don't like it there, they'll leave."
"But what if they're like us?" Carmen asked. "What if they can't? What if they don't have any choice?"
He looked away from her and turned to the television. "Then...we'll just have to pray for them, I guess."
But Al was right. The new occupants of the house did leave.
They were, however, followed by another family...
...and another...
...and still another...
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Copyright © 1992 by Ray Garton, Al Snedeker, Carmen Snedeker, Ed Warren, and Lorraine Warren
978-1-63168-020-5
This edition published in 2014 by Graymalkin Media
www.graymalkin.com
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