“Can you make my eggs scrambled?” he asked.
***
They had finally left. Mom and Dad had made plans for all of them on Sunday. James had told them he had not slept well and was too tired to go out today. He felt bad for his parents and hated to tell them no. For the first time in their life, they had the opportunity to do with their child the things they had expected they would be able to do with him when they brought him into this world. There was so much they wanted to show him, so much to teach him.
“They’ll be other times,” James had said to them. “I’m better now, and I’ll be better from here on out. There’s no reason to rush.”
They had reluctantly left him alone in the house. As soon as they were gone, James retreated to his basement. But he didn’t go there because he was afraid. No, he wasn’t afraid of the outside. He was just fascinated with what was inside him, what he had brought in from the outside. His basement provided the most solitude he could get. He didn’t know what was going to happen.
James sat in his favorite chair. He relaxed as much as he could and focused on the presence. As far as he knew, it had not taken him over again after he’d returned to bed last night. Now he was ready to communicate further with it.
“Who are you?” he asked.
James continued to relax. He felt the presence move a little inside him. He felt it take a little of the control he gave it. His lungs filled with air. The muscles in his neck tensed. But then the presence backed off. James waited for a couple of minutes, but the presence remained still.
“Okay,” James said. “I feel that I can push you out of me anytime I want. And I think you probably sense that too. That’s why you waited until I was asleep to take me over. You thought you could just slip past me.” James waited, and the presence remained still. “But I don’t want to push you out. I like the way you feel inside me. And though it’s hard to remember, being that I was asleep, I think I must have enjoyed it while you were at the controls.”
Awakening from the presence’s control last night had been like awakening from a really good dream that he couldn’t remember. It was like he had just been flying.
“The benefit of me allowing you to take over for a while will be mutual.” Again, James waited. But the presence still didn’t respond. It probably didn’t trust him yet. “You don’t have to tell me who you are. But tell me what you are.”
James relaxed and focused on the presence. Soon, it moved. It took over the muscles it needed, and James allowed it. His lips moved and his voice said, “I am a spirit.”
The spirit retreated, as if frightened by what it had done. Then it was still again.
“Tell me more,” James said.
A few seconds later, the spirit said, “I have been roaming the sky for several years now. I have tried to inhabit many people and many things. I had not succeeded. I had no impact at all. And then I saw you from the sky. You were on that hill. Something was coming from you, and I was attracted to it. I went inside you and could feel myself blending with it.”
James easily retook control. “Why have you been trying to possess things?”
At that question, the spirit was still. James waited for a little while and then said, “Fine. You don’t have to answer that. But do tell me this. Last night, when you took over my body, did you have something in mind?” Again there was no response. James said, “Keep in mind that I may want to give you control. I may want to help you.”
After a little while, the spirit moved and used James’s mouth to say, “Yes. I was going to do something I’ve waited years to do, ever since my death.”
James smiled. He liked that. He, after being trapped from a normal life for so many years, was beginning to think he might be able to have experiences far more tantalizing than anyone had ever had.
“I want to help you,” James said. “But no more taking me over while I sleep. I want to be a part of it.”
After a few seconds, the spirit said, “No matter what it is?”
James thought for a little while and then asked, “Can we do it without me getting in trouble?”
After a few seconds, the spirit said, “Have you ever been in trouble before?”
“No,” James responded.
James was getting faster at letting the spirit have control, and the spirit was getting faster at taking it. They were approaching real time.
“Then we can do it in such a way that no one would ever suspect you.”
“Good,” James said. “But remember this. If you try to trick me, I’ll figure it out. And I think we both sense that I can trap you inside me. Any ramifications I suffer, you’ll be there to suffer too.”
James wasn’t sure that he would really be able to make the spirit feel the ramifications. But he sensed that after a little more time and practice in being possessed, he’d soon develop the ability to make his body a prison.
“Fine,” the spirit said. “You can trust me.”
James smiled. “When do we start?”
***
It was just after midnight when James, sitting in his chair, down in his basement, relaxed himself enough that the spirit could take over. The spirit rose immediately. It crept his body upstairs. Then it shut the basement door, ensuring that if one of his parents got up during the night, they’d think James was downstairs sleeping. The spirit even used the key James had stuck in his pocket earlier to lock the back door on the way out.
James was very satisfied with how the spirit proceeded. It was mindful of James’s culpability in every step. They didn’t take one of his parents’ cars. Instead, they walked about a mile to get someone else’s vehicle. In a driveway of a beaten down old house, they got into a dilapidated Oldsmobile. The spirit spoke.
“This car belongs to an old friend of mine. And when I say old, I mean old. And old people have habits that die hard.”
The spirit pulled down the visor over the driver’s side window, and a key fell down into James’s lap. “Spare key,” the spirit said. “My friend will be inside, drunk and sleeping hard. We’ll bring it back when were done. He’ll never know it’s missing.”
The Oldsmobile started on the first try. They had practiced moving earlier, maneuvering around the basement, letting the spirit will the muscles. It had taken some time. It was all a matter of how well James could absorb the spirit’s will. He’d had to learn to feel what the spirit wanted. It had become natural. Soon, James had felt as if he could slip into the background and just go along for the ride. For something else to will his movement was incredible. James focused on the sensations of his body as a result of the movements, as the spirit decided on how to move. It was like floating.
For the first time in his life, James got to experience driving. In a way, he was not in control of the car. He didn’t will the movements. But he did make the willed movements and got to enjoy their results.
James loved someone else making the decisions, freeing him up to relax and enjoy the outcomes. He felt almost like a baby being carried around, but with an adult mind to enjoy it with.
As they drove, the spirit spoke. “I don’t think most people stick around after they die. Not like I did. I think you really got to have a good reason and want to stick around in order to be like me.” James waited for the spirit to elaborate. It didn’t. But it spoke more. “You can go places when you stick around, but not many. I can only go to familiar places, places I went to during my life, and have some memory of. I can’t go into buildings I don’t know about or even down roads I’m not familiar with.”
James thought of what that meant. That was why he had been kept inside. No spirit could have gotten to him that wasn’t familiar with his basement. Essentially, no spirit could have gotten to him. James had gone outside to get this one. Then he had brought it inside an unfamiliar place.
They drove out of town on the main highway and then turned and drove another mile down a paved back road before turning again and driving half a mile down a dirt road to a solitary house. They s
topped on the road.
“This house I know. It used to be mine.”
The spirit got the car rolling again. They moved a few hundred yards further, before pulling into a short drive that took them back in the trees. There, the spirit shut the engine down and turned off the lights.
“We walk from here,” the spirit said.
They trekked through trees most of the way. Then, when they came to the outskirts of the property, a dog barked from the side of the house and they stopped. The spirit moved them back into the trees and bent down. A light came on in the house. About a minute later, the dog still barking away, a tall man came to the side of the house. He shined a flashlight around but missed where they were squatting. He then moved the chained dog into an unattached garage.
“Yeah, dumbass,” the spirit whispered. “Take out the alarm system for us.”
The man went back inside and turned off the lights. They sat there and waited for what must have been about ten minutes, before the spirit was satisfied that it was safe to move. They went to the back of the house. The spirit had obviously scouted this place as well as he had scouted the friend they had stolen the car from. It knew just what to do. They pushed up a window and then, as quietly as possible, crawled through.
They were now in a dark room. As they sat there for about a minute, James’s eyes were able to accommodate enough for him to realize that they were in a bathroom. They crept out of the bathroom, through another dark room, and then through another door. Though James could not see well, he trusted how the spirit willed his movements. He took a few steps and then reached up. He could tell what his hands had grabbed. He felt the wood of the stock and the steel of the barrel and knew he now had a gun. When the spirit willed him to cock that gun, James realized that he had a shotgun.
Shadows rose nearby and the spirit willed him to squeeze the trigger. In the light of the blast, James made out two people, probably a man and a woman. After the resonance of the deafening blast fell away, there were cries and moans of pain. It cocked the gun and fired twice more, and the two on the bed were silent.
“Put me in a nursing home to die and then steal my home.”
James realized that he’d just heard more about what the spirit was.
“Some son you turned out to be. Didn’t think Mommy could do anything about you and your little whore.”
James actually took complete control for a few seconds. It was the shock that did it. He had assumed the spirit had been male. He had suspected there would be an act of revenge. But mother on son?
James felt the spirit trying to rise. He let it have control again.
“Let’s get you home and get me out of your body,” the spirit said.
James had no doubt the spirit would do it. He was glad to relinquish the control. As exciting as all this was, he was ready to be home again, safe in his bed.
There was a glitch. They ran out of the bedroom of the two slain bodies and into a lit room. There, standing in the living room, by the door, was a woman about James’s age. She was dressed in a nightgown. A look of shock was frozen on her face.
“What? Your car isn’t outside. You’re not supposed to be here.”
The woman obviously couldn’t respond right now. She didn’t even look like she could move.
“It’s Grandma, baby. You need to go get in your dad’s car and drive as fast as you can out of here.”
James became aware that the spirit was forsaking him. She had hated her son, but she still cared for her adult granddaughter. She didn’t want her to be in any danger, and she didn’t want her to see what was in the back bedroom. But this girl had seen James.
James realized what he had to do. He thought he probably could too. The spirit had willed the movements of blasting the other two people, but James had obeyed that will. All he had to do now was add the will, and he was just as capable of killing as the spirit.
He heard the spirit protest as he pushed her under. Then, on his own, he cocked the shotgun, and aimed it at the hapless woman’s head. On his own, with the spirit squashed into a small place inside him, James pulled the trigger and decapitated the woman.
***
James learned exactly who he had killed on the five-o’clock news. The two the spirit had shot in the bed were Gus Harold and his wife Lita. The woman he had shot was Gus’s daughter, Pam. They were found shortly after the stolen car was reported.
Having forced the now belligerent spirit from his body, James had walked home last night, cutting through fields, staying low. As far as he knew, no one had seen him. Logically, James didn’t think he could be traced. His fingerprints would be in a few places, but that didn’t matter, because the police wouldn’t have his prints on file. There were no witnesses, and he had no motive. As far as anyone knew, he was down in his basement asleep at the time the three people were murdered. Besides, the owner of the car the spirit had stolen had been a family acquaintance. The police would be looking first at the owner and then for someone else familiar with the family. So logically, James was safe. But that didn’t stop his nerves from jumping. He avoided contact with his parents, not wanting them to sense his anxious state. He simply claimed to be feeling a little under the weather, and they let him be.
James wondered about the spirit. He had no idea what happened to it after it left his body. He wondered if there was some kind of revenge it could exact upon him. For that, he would just have to wait and see.
It was on Tuesday morning when James felt the cure for his anxiety. He awoke with the urgency from before. He hadn’t anticipated this. He would have thought his psyche had learned its lesson about spirit possession. But that didn’t seem to matter. His mind became overwhelmed with memories of what it had been like to be possessed, to be willed by another as he watched on. He forgot about what it was like to know he had killed an innocent bystander for his own safety. He forgot about the fear he’d felt coming home, worrying that someone would spot him and at any moment he would see police lights or hear dogs barking. He forgot about the tension of waiting for the news to come on yesterday so he could see if the police had any leads that pointed to him.
James went to his hill, where he sat and waited for another spirit to come.
***
The intensity of Celeste’s urges was nearly unbearable. She couldn’t stop thinking about what it was like to be with another person, about being touched, about being entered, and feeling the incredible heat.
She hadn’t done well at her job today, bringing the wrong drinks, failing to write down the order right the first time, so she had to go back to the table to get it again. She knew this was costing her tips, but it was hard to care. She just wanted out of this place. She felt smothered. Frequently, she felt a slight heat, like a remnant from the last time she had been touched, but it was only enough to tickle her, to wet her appetite for more. She had to have somebody.
Tiffany had asked her what was wrong. Celeste had told her she was just a little preoccupied with something that had happened in therapy, and that she would be fine. Thank God Kendra, who would not settle for such a simple explanation, had the day off.
Paul was working today, but he wasn’t really speaking to her, aside from the words they had to share as part of the job. He did stare at her a lot, though. But it wasn’t the covetous look she would have expected. His look was cool and calculating. It was as if he were studying her, as if he were suspicious of something.
That evening, Parker Swinson, the young attorney Celeste had shocked by sitting on his lap, came in. He sat alone in Celeste’s section. Parker showed interest in Celeste, talking to her a lot more than usual, drinking a little more than he usually drank on a weeknight. When he finally suggested they get together sometime, maybe later this week, Celeste told him tonight would be good.
“Well, do you want to meet somewhere?” Parker asked.
“We can meet at your place, if you’d like,” Celeste responded, abruptly.
Obviously shocked, Parker said, “Sure. We c
ould have some drinks and watch a DVD.” He scribbled his address on a napkin and handed it to her.
Celeste went there right after work, not even bothering to clean up. Parker’s house looked nice on the outside, two levels, one half-sunken in the ground.
Parker opened the door, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and casually said, “Hey. Come on in.”
Inside, Celeste found two wine glasses set out. Parker had the flat-screen television and his DVD player set to go. They had a couple of drinks on the couch, before Celeste kissed him once then straddled him.
Parker slowly took her clothes off, and then kissed and licked her all over. He stuck his tongue in places she didn’t think people stuck their tongues, and she liked it. Then he entered her from many different angles. Her favorite was when he bent her over the arm of the couch and rammed into her from behind. She thought it must have been his favorite position too, because that was when he was the biggest and the hardest. He slapped her hips, like she was a bronco, but that was fine.
The heat was way more intense than it had been last week with Paul. Parker was no doubt better at this, but Celeste didn’t think that was the main cause of the increased magnitude. No, the increased heat had more to do with her and her barrier.
Finally, the heat maxed out. Celeste felt as if she could take no more from Parker and waited for him to finish. He did finish, but he didn’t finish like Paul. He didn’t cum at all. Instead, he just pulled out of her.
She sat naked on the couch beside him. She was satisfied, but there was something wrong with him. His breath was broken and his face was pale. He looked as if he might be sick.
He said, “I guess . . .”
Parker didn’t finish what he had to say. He just lay down.
“Are you okay?” Celeste asked.
Parker motioned with his hand and nodded. Celeste waited with him for a little while longer, until he went to sleep. Celeste went back to his bedroom and took a blanket from his bed. She covered him up and then left. She went home and tried to go to bed. But she couldn’t sleep. She got up and cleaned around her apartment. Then she got a book to read. She felt calm but energized. Her thoughts were quick and crisp. She finished the entire book before going to bed and sleeping a few hours.
Scribner Horror Bundle: Four Horror Novels by Joshua Scribner Page 37
