by BoJenn
Lovey lowered his head. He was beyond sad. He was heartbroken at her words. “The plan’s not working,” he said with a whimper.
Eleanor shook her head, “No”, at Lovey. “It’s not Catherine’s true heart, Lovey. Patience; do not fret, boy. This is part of the war. It has begun. She will say all kinds of things—hurtful things. But, it’s not her speaking. It is the spirit demon of ‘Confusion’.”
Tadhg explained to him in dog talk, “The war is on.”
“Mocking Spirit” said after Cat entered, “Oh, here she is! Our little mess! Isn’t she a sight?” The other evil forces laughed. “Suicide” said, “She’s ripe for the taking,” and stepped forward.
Bravely, not whimpering or cowering, Lovey spoke to Eleanor, “If Catherine doesn't open the third box, this disaster will continue forever. It will leave behind memories that take on ghosts to haunt for a lifetime, never finding peace or rest. I don't want Catherine’s soul to hurt anymore.” Lovey looked to Catherine, “Please, Catherine, I am on your side. Don't you see?”
“Lovey, a human once said, ‘you can lead a horse to water but you can't make them drink’. They have minds of their own, and they may do as they please. They have free will. It is a true statement,” Tadhg chuckled.
“What’s so funny? I don’t think I’m a horse?”, Cat snarled.
“She heard me,” Tadhg noted, but wasted no time to tell Catherine how true that statement was. “Humans were referring to horses; but, really, they were talking about themselves. You have free will. You must choose rightly,”Tadhg added.
“But her name is written in The Book, isn't it?”, Lovey asked as he looked at her.
“Although Cat is standing at the door, well within hearing distance of you, she cannot understand your communication, Lovey. She can only hear and comprehend the human responses,” Tadhg informed the little fellow.
“She doesn’t want to enter?”, Lovey said, worried so.
“Yes her name is written there, but her lines are wavy. She will decide her resting place. It's not ours to say,” Tadhg continued, whispering to Lovey, who was consumed with worry. “She must decide to enter or not, Lovey.”
“No! We will do the best we can, and more. We are not lazy!”, Lovey warned.
“Oh, Lovey, you are truly like God,” Eleanor looked his way and praised his noble character. “Yes, we will do the best we can do.”
Their conversations weren’t heard or seen by the devils. To them, there had only been silence—the people waiting patiently, and a stupid box sitting there unopened. “Whose birthday was it, anyway?”, they wondered. The quietness was intimidating and infuriating. They wanted a fight.
Cat, standing at the threshold, was far too unbelieving and angry. She could not pray because prayer requires purity of heart. Without even just a little bit of faith, a prayer cannot be heard; and because she felt bombarded and manipulated by these people, dog and the voices, she could not, would not pray.
“Rejection of heaven is a surefire way to keep someone from going there. The choice is hers. She’s an adult,” Tadhg whispered.
“What’s that?”, Cat abruptly asked. “Rejection of heaven? Who’s rejecting heaven? Me?”
“Tadhg, quit filling Catherine with doubt,” Eleanor scolded him. “Come on; let’s gather together. A three-chord rope is hard to break; let’s join together, please.” Eleanor had Lovey and Tadhg move into their places on the pyramid. “We must seek and request, without Catherine, for now.”
Eleanor had made an altar at the base of the pyramid, and she drew out a silver goblet from her tote bag. The Book came next, and, then, the incense, which she lit. Placing a veil over her head, Eleanor began to chant. She gave humble thanks to God, The Father of the Universe. She repented of any wrong doing and asked to be cleansed. Lovey asked to be included by panting and wagging his tail. She thanked him, and began a song of blessings, joy and triumphant delivery. She poured wine and vinegar around them and sipped from the cup. She sprinkled a few drops on Lovey; and over Thomas’ picture, which she laid on the altar; and then introduced the hymn, beginning the ceremony—“Our God In Help In Ages Past. First and last verse only,” Eleanor whispered. “Let us sing together, shall we?”
And so they began to sing together.
“Our God, our help in ages past. Our hope for years to come.
Our shelter from the stormy blast. And our eternal home.
Our God, our help in ages past. Our hope for years to come.
Be Thou our guard while troubles last, And our eternal home.”
Catherine, though she was infuriated by all the talk about her, realized that she once knew the song they were singing. Her eyebrow raised wanting to hear more. She stood at the door outside where Eleanor, Tadhg and Lovey sang their prayer.
Then, she entered the room. “My mother sang that hymn,” she said. “What are you doing? What’s this pyramid for?”
Eleanor addressed her at once. “You asked into the wind, Catherine; you asked the Heavens to find Thomas. And, it gave you an answer. You asked for God's love; and little Lovey was sent to you as a small token of just how much God loves you. Lovey was part of the plan to help you see the painful past, and to understand that all is well, all is right, and everything is as it should be.”
“The wind brought your cries by angels’ wings to Our Father. He heard a four-year-old girl cry. He cried, too,” Eleanor told Catherine. “He sent me; and I called for Lovey, who was lost to sea in the body of a rag-puppy. You see, Lovey came too. He came to love you, again. He never forgot ‘Little Elizabeth.’”
“Then, why did it take a lifetime to find me? If He is God as you say? God can be quick. He’s God. So, TELL ME!”, Catherine yelled, as she threw up her arms and put them over her face.
“Shut up, you hag!” “The Accuser of the Brethren” approached Eleanor, but it couldn’t enter the pyramid without pain and possible dissipation. But, it stepped up to the edge of the gold line.
“Human time is not the same as Heaven time. Human tears and pains are not healed until they are ready. So, healing does not come until the grounds are turned, saturated with tears, plowed by pain and hurt, before they are given back to God for planting and yielding a crop of beauty,” Eleanor continued without missing a beat, nor having any quivering in her voice.
“Well, have I cried enough for God? Have I hurt enough? Have I shed enough tears? Have I suffered alone enough for Him?”, Catherine demanded. “I despise the Dubois’! I hope they are all in Hell!”
“Catherine, stop! You are not to hate anyone, anything, or yourself,” Lovey pleaded but she couldn’t hear him. But he tried anyway.
Spirit demon, “Hate” stood in the corner with the other devils and demons. “Good job, little hatreds; she hates. She hates almost like you,” and the devils and demons all laughed.
Eleanor said, “Hush. Be quiet.” They stopped their taunts. They obeyed her.
“Everything works for good if God has called them, and, dear, sweet one, He called you,” Eleanor tenderly, assuredly said to Catherine.
“Fine way to love a child!” Catherine screamed her pain, “How could He have left me in such utter despair? How could He take away my remaining family? And, allow my animals to burn in a fire! What the hell did He want of me? You say He loves me? No, I think not!”
“Oh, dear,” Eleanor whispered up to God. “Dear Father, I need help. I need reinforcements, please.”
The evil bunch heard Eleanor’s cry for help. They knew, then, she lacked the confidence of faith that the three of them, alone—God’s souls—would be sufficiently powerful to exorcise them from their home of Cat Dubois. “Oops, better surrender now. You’re going to lose aren’t you?”, “Mocking Spirit” chirped in.
Eleanor’s answer came quickly for He put a song in Eleanor's heart, and told her to sing. It was a song that Catherine’s mother had sung to her. So, Eleanor began to sing a childhood tune, the one sung to “Little Elizabeth”, on rare occasions—“Praise Him,
praise Him, all ye little children”. Eleanor sang, though she was but a whisper in the background. “God is love, God is love,” she continued.
Catherine turned to look at her. “My mum sang that to me,” she remembered.
There, in that room, slowly appeared her mother. She was translucent and shimmered, clad in a long white dress. She pointed for Catherine to come and stand in the center. “They are not here to hurt you. You can trust them…trust them…trust them,” she communicated to her daughter’s heart, and then she was gone.
“Well, come in the center; let’s sing it together, dear. We will sing until you are free.” Eleanor began the tune softly. She sounded like Catherine’s mother.
Catherine had borne a scowl on her mouth as she had entered the room so slowly; but, as she had witnessed her mother’s presence, her expression, from the inside out, had turned to one of wonder and faith, and tenderness. Cat spoke softly, reverently, “She smiled so beautifully, didn’t she?”
Eleanor continued to sing to Catherine.
Love Him, love Him, all ye little children, God is love, God is love;
Love Him, love Him, all ye little children, God is love, God is love.”
Sing with me. You know it, let’s sing it.” Eleanor gently reached out and took Cat’s hand.
Thank Him, thank Him, all ye little children, God is love, God is love;
Thank Him, thank Him, all ye little children, God is love, God is love.
Eleanor, Catherine, Tadhg and Lovey sang together. Of course, Lovey couldn’t be heard by Cat, but he sang anyway.
“Oh, how lovely,” “Mocking Spirit” and all the devils and demons started singing along, taunting and laughing, as they do. They were ignored this time by Catherine, for she could not hear them when she sang with Eleanor.
But, “The Tormentors” did not ease up. They stuck their swords into Catherine and would not let her go. If they must leave, then they would take her soul with them to the place of eternal torment. After all, she belonged to them.
The Oil
“Rise ye, journey and pass over the brook Arnon;
see, I have given into thy hand Sihon king of Heshbon, the Amorite, and his land;
begin to possess, and stir up thyself against him in battle.”
—Deuteronomy 2:24.
“‘Hate’ is, simply, a latter-day bully,” Eleanor said. She knew it had an inflated ego and also large physical stature, an appearance that was intimidating to most. But Eleanor knew his game and ignored his posturing threats. “He is one of the chief devils Sihon King of Heshbon, prevented passage through the Amorites’ Territory of Moab.” He will try to prevent the passage of Catherine’s soul to that of our King, Eleanor said, in spirit, to Tadhg, Thomas and Lovey. “It may cost something, but the war is worth it. Do you all agree?”
Eleanor taught them the history behind the demons. However, to Catherine, she was selective in her teachings, as she didn’t want to unduly frighten her.
“Stand in the center, Catherine,” Eleanor pointed.
“Now, form a triangle around her,” she said, pointing to Lovey and Tadhg. “Take your places, please.” This, she allowed Catherine to hear; and it was the signal to them that the war was beginning.
Thomas moved to the Son’s place at the bottom, near the altar.
As they all took their places, there was a quiet—the kind of quiet before a storm. Catherine had become aware that the impending doom was real—not a dream or a vision. The air hung heavy with dreadful anticipation.
Catherine’s mother’s apparition manifested, and moved to join Thomas, holding his hand, firmly, in the Son’s spot. She hushed Thomas with the right index to the lips. “Concentrate for Catherine,” she told him. It was the first time they had united in spirit; however, remaining quiet, they often looked at each other and smiled. They knew eternity was theirs; they would have all time to be together, once again.
“We are forming the Holy Trinity,” Eleanor informed them.
Tadhg held a candle, which floated in midair. The third box was next to Eleanor, on the left. Tadhg and Eleanor prayed in Latin, helping Lovey to learn the prayers, too. In unison, they sounded like something not of this world. Their eyes remained closed, and they were not distracted with the sounds of the manor, which were growing more intense. Doors slammed, music boxes played all at once, the sounds were distorted and chaotic. The sound of the tea kettle whistling, books being thrown, and glass shattering, started up in the den. Though they couldn’t see the books flying, they were acutely aware of the noise and thuds against the walls.
Cat stared around with huge eyes, as if to say, “Don’t you guys hear all these loud noises? What is going on?”
“Catherine, dear, close your eyes and pray,” Eleanor said, with her eyes still closed, picking right back up in their prayers where she’d left off. Eleanor voice and demeanor remained cool and calm as she should be—undisturbed by the threats of devils, demons and ghosts of the past.
“You bitch! You’re not getting away!”, “Spirit Daunting” cursed at Cat.
Catherine could not pray. She was too distracted by the cacophony of banging. Then, she laughed—an inappropriate laugh—it was a wailing whine, a sound totally foreign from that of her usual voice. From inside her heart, an image burst forth that all could see.
“It’s the demon, “Rejection”, Eleanor said, as it powerfully emerged and stood next to her, huge and dark and black. It held a knife at her heart.
Though Cat couldn’t actually see it, the rest of the onlookers watched the demon hover and circle Catherine like a rabid dog. Thomas and Lovey jumped from fear that it would kill Catherine. Moving the knife from the heart and circling her head with the razor-sharp point, it skimmed her hair. A lock of Cat’s black hair fell to the ground. She watched it float down as a chill, cold as ice, moved slowly, torturously, through her spine. Catherine became light-headed and giddy. She looked drunk, and started saying foolish things. “How ‘bout a drink? Anyone wanna get drunk? Come on!”, Cat said. She made very little sense in that moment. She moved nearer under the chandelier and begged, “Come on! Someone boost me up there to swing—it will be fun!” She tried to stand, but she found that her legs were like jello, and collapsed back down into the center of the pyramid.
“Drunk, slob!” Another bratty demon, “Taunter”, sneered at her lying on the floor.
Lovey growled ferociously. He watched Catherine, but threatened the devils coming out from within her. His stance was broad, his legs sturdily planted on the floor in the Father’s place. His back firmed up like steel, and he looked almost statuesque, as the pupils of his golden brown eyes grew wide, and his wiry eyebrows raised. His growl resounded, threateningly low.
“What are you growling at, Lovey?" Catherine pulled herself off the floor, and got up. She went over to him and bent to pet his black head.
Eleanor’s mouth dropped open. Dazed and frozen, her eyes were riveted to the battalion emerging from Catherine’s body as she walked. From her heart and mind, they permeated outward into the room. Eleanor’s heart raced as she took deep breaths to keep from being drawn into the heightened chaos of the atmosphere. They would know she was nervous and anxious if her vibrations changed in the room. They could pick up all negativity; it was what they knew best.
“Catherine, would you move back into the center. Stay within the marked lines. Stay within the center.”
Eleanor could not allow any negative feelings or any negative human emotions to affect her. The cleansing breaths she continued to take calmed her spirit.
“Where are the back-up angels?”, she wondered. She knew she must begin the prayers again, with Lovey’s help. “How long will we last without help?”, she thought. But, she quickly caught herself, daring not utter any thoughts aloud that could be used in attempts against Catherine’s deliverance, as the devils would have loved gaining the confidence that they had the upper hand. Instead, she focused on the meditations again, to keep herself from fret or worry a
bout the lack of faithful backup. She blocked all negative vibrations in her mind to a full stop. “Deep breaths; have faith. Support will come,” Eleanor reassured herself.
Any words spoken carelessly by Eleanor, that would express doubt in her faith, was what “The Tormentors” hoped for most; the power of suggestion that she was wavering would be just the power they needed. Faltering belief, spoken in insincere prayers or confessions, are a lie. Any ambivalence between her doubt and faith, and “Fear” would readily realize her faith was a lie. Devils smell lies; and they are especially empowered when saints lie to themselves.
So, Eleanor fortified her belief that everything in process was as it should be. She concentrated on her own soulful power, saying to herself, “All is well; every step, every thought, every prayer is in synchronization and known by the King.” She knew that faith could not be conjured. It had to be real and authentic, and believed with all her soul.
Meanwhile, the devils talked among themselves, agreeing to promote every torment in pursuit of doubt. That would be their trump card, as they reminded each other of the special place in their fallen kingdom where previously revered souls, who lied and faked their faith, were banished. Many had lived their lives in the churches of earth; some had even been called saints before they succumbed.
There, those doubters, wearing white robes like monks, but stained with the stench of stale blood, walked around in endless circles, each with their “Big Guidebook”, constantly blaspheming the idea of faith in Supreme Goodness. Even the devils in charge hated being around them, because their holier-than-thou attitudes were empty—a bottomless pit—more deceptive and deceitful that the “Accuser of the Brethren”, himself. Behind their eyes lay no souls, nor spirits, nor demons, nor devils, merely a black void of endless babbling of self-righteous lies. Their constant prattle of accusations covered everything from how to be holy, and why one is not, to how to get there. Their rambling was eternal; they lived in the torture of each other’s never shutting up or even quieting the circuitous gibberish of their claims to have the right word or the right message from God. Their place was the depth of everlasting hell.
