Life sucks anymore. Demons exist, I don't know if angels do but
Demons definatly do. I don't know where to start but to use the old cliche
I guess I should just start at the beginning and work my way up from there.
I am no longer Ted Dawson, I don't even have a name that matters. The only
thing I let people call me anymore is "Padre". It's the only thing that has
any signifigance, so I guess I just contradicted myself.
I need smokes, I'm on my last two cigs. I don't need much these days, ancient artifacts, thousand year old prayers, some cheese curls, and smokes. I can get water from those little customary cups that they have to give you at those fast food places. Act thirsty enough and they think you'll pass out and sue them. I wish I could. Wife divorced me, can't really blame her. It usually happens when you spend all of your joint- savings account on a thousand year old book that may have a fragment of some Latin prayer. I don't even know Latin that well.
I'm not bad at this Exorcist thing though, some Catholic texts have ways to deal with Demons so I only dish out 20 bucks every once and awhile for a little knowlege. I live in a run down apartment outside of Trenton NJ, and I go into the city to hunt. I don't know if I should be putting that down, it would be bad if a Demon got ahold of this. Maybe that's why I'm sitting here, writing this though. I want it to find me, I want to stand at the gates of hell a mortal and make something strong bow down to me.
No, that's arrogance. Stay the path Padre, stay the path. You cannot be like them, but aren't you already? Don't you kill? No, I do what I do in the service of the Lord my God. I will not be daunted by my momentary weakness, it comes to us all but I cannot allow it to come to me. When you stand before a Demon of the pit and chant the ageless prayers that may bind it you cannot falter. If you falter you will die, David learned that the hard way.
David was a good kid, he wasn't really Catholic..I mean he was a Muslim. He used these weird arabic rituals to bind Demons, but he was a demon himself. Muslims can't have that kind of power, they can't bind Demons without being them. His parents were right off the boat or plane or whatever from Saudi Arabia, and they tried to give him a normal name. It was him who saught out his Islamic origins really though. But they are the enemy as well, Muslims are just Demons fighting Demons.
The Crusaders couldn't have been wrong, not for almost three hundred years of fighting. Am I deluding myself though? They killed in cold blood. Stay the path, remember Padre? Devils, Demons all of them. Must stay the path. I ramble, I forgot to start at the beginning. I grew up in a little Catholic family in Northern Pennsylvania, but I wasn't really interested in my faith until a couple of years ago. The sad thing here is after a few years I am a vetern in this Exorcist thing.
So many die, I never had a family, though I married, and now I live a chaste life to be closer to my profession. I cannot have distractions, I cannot avert from the path. Anyway, Sylvia was a beautiful girl, but she had a demonic master. I met her in one of those internet cafes, looking up Christian books from the internet. She was Hitler's perfect girl, blonde hair, blue eyes, docile and submissive sounding.
Me and her talked, and when she peered over at the computer screen I was staring at her interest seemed to heighten. She was Episcipalian, watered down Catholic. Whatever though, it's not important. I was trying to get into my faith at my parent's plea, but I was happy living my life with my wife, owning a small book store myself. She told me her boss was a big time dealer who had lots of books on the subjects, and by contacting him I could find the best.
So I went home and I called this guy, he had a gruff voice..and I still remember it today. He told me to come to his special warehouse, but first he asked about my situation. I had told him I was just a guy looking for faith. I told Lauren, my wife, that I had to go buy a book to find myself and she kind of looked at me funny as I walked out the door.
I drove my 97' Dodge Ram to the book warehouse, a discount place where you can get dirty books for like half the price. I got out and went inside, it was after hours at ten so it was just Sylvia and a large imposing man with short brown hair and glasses, wearing a black suit named Rufus. He had a few books on the table before him, and he waved me over. It was kind of odd that he would sit there and wait for me to come after hours, weird.
Sylvia just smiled at me and clung to Rufus's arm, submissive as ever. Slut, I thought as I approached the pile of books. Looking at them they were the latest on Christian culture and lifestyle, but the book at the bottom caught my attention. The cover was written in Latin, I still don't know enough to desipher the title but Rufus told me that it was "Of Demons and their identities, enemies of the faith."
Weird book, written at least three hundred years ago it had that old creaky leather binding. I held it up and he flashed a toothy grin at me. "So your not the best Christian I hear Ted?" I told him it was none of his buisness, and flipped through the book. He asked me if I believed in demons and I shook my head, one of those weird Catholics who only half believed half of the docterite.
I saw a picture of one of those winged pitch-fork demons with dead raven's wings and a twisted, shadow face. I looked up from the book and Sylvia was hanging on the arm of a mirror image of the thing in the book. I just blinked, sure I was hallucinating. I was a good boy, I'd never done drugs. The thing spoke in a loud voice, and Sylvia seemed to shiver with excitement as it rang out. "DO YOU BELIEVE NOW? BASTARD SON OF ADAM?"
I recoiled as if struck, practically falling on my ass. The thing hovered above me, and extended a hand. I felt mesmerized, enchanted by the swirling shadow over the slightly taller and more muscular rufus. An aura of darkness enfolded over me, and I as unconcious. I awoke later in a back room of the warehouse, with Sylvia tending to my forehead with a hot rag. A pile of old, leather bound books were by my bed and Rufus sat across the room at a table, human again.
I cried out, trying to sit up but with strength I didn't think Sylvia had she held me down, or maybe I was weak I couldn't tell. Rufus walked over to the bed and looked down at me, and he watched me with his cold green eyes. He told me I was going to learn how to fight those like him, but not him. And I was going to read those books. The threads of fate had brought me to him he said, and I was going to do my part in the destiny of the world.
I was kept in that room for days, I was allowed a call home to my wife to tell her that I had gotten called away for a guild seminar on my cell phone and I was just going to be away for a few days. My voice almost cracked telling her, but I had to tell her something so she didn't send out the calvary or anything.
I started to read the books, they were all old, but written in English. It seems Rufus had tried to translate them as best he could, and they gave me hidden prayers, hidden ways to bind: Demons. Rufus told me that there were Demons bigger and badder than him out there, and that I would need to help those like him take them down. It sounded like a really good way to get myself killed, and my mind was still coming back from the shock it had the night before.
Rufus came up and visited me once awhile, and I saw through my little window people going out in their daily lives, unaware of the Demons that stalked the night. After a few days I had my first assignment from Rufus, but not the last. A servant of one of the big demons was coming to in essence parlay with Rufus, and I came down as the two were meeting in the main room, after hours of course.
My brown eyes adjusted to the dim light of the closed store as I saw the Italian looking man, with long black hair and a suit like Rufus's on sitting across from Rufus at a table. The place had a little coffee shop in it, and they were at a table. An ornate Italian cross in my left hand, a bible in my right I walked towards the table, in my three day dirty sweater and jeans and the Italian man looked at me. "Ahmael I use thine name to invoke thine energies whilist they last on this Earth of God's. I pray to Michael and Uriel, take thee this night and banish thee from this plane of existance, back to the abyss. Leave thy stolen corpse, leave the shell to rot. It is better to dispose of such rotten feasts then to let their foul stench bring about the ghost."
The Italian man blinked, Ahmael was the word that stung him first and his body glowed red at first, his skin starting to glow red and firey. Spikes appeared on his hands and his teeth turned to fangs, An aura of flamed engulfed him, and his powerful transformation sent the chair under him flying. His black hair disappeared, a bald head's eyes glaring at me. I felt bolstered in my faith, and conviction. I was fighting a Demon.
Lost in the magic of the situation, I almost forgot my prayers, I almost faltered. I prayed for a few more moments and the Italian fell to his knees, wincing with one eye completely closed. Rufus took out a knife and curtly approached the fallen demon, jamming the ornate dagger in his right eye and causing steam to whisp off of the body. Interestingly enough, he made the sign of the cross with the dagger, and when it was done I stopped praying, the sizzling head melting into the ground, a ghostly wisp rising from the body and dissipating.
Rufus walked over to me and patted me on the shoulder with a grin. I had wondered that night why I couldn't do it to Rufus and two explanations came to me. One I had not the name of the demon, and two he was more powerful than I could have imagined. He called the Italian man servant of the "Earthbound" he who must die.
I need smokes, I'm on my last two cigs. I don't need much these days, ancient artifacts, thousand year old prayers, some cheese curls, and smokes. I can get water from those little customary cups that they have to give you at those fast food places. Act thirsty enough and they think you'll pass out and sue them. I wish I could. Wife divorced me, can't really blame her. It usually happens when you spend all of your joint- savings account on a thousand year old book that may have a fragment of some Latin prayer. I don't even know Latin that well.
I'm not bad at this Exorcist thing though, some Catholic texts have ways to deal with Demons so I only dish out 20 bucks every once and awhile for a little knowlege. I live in a run down apartment outside of Trenton NJ, and I go into the city to hunt. I don't know if I should be putting that down, it would be bad if a Demon got ahold of this. Maybe that's why I'm sitting here, writing this though. I want it to find me, I want to stand at the gates of hell a mortal and make something strong bow down to me.
No, that's arrogance. Stay the path Padre, stay the path. You cannot be like them, but aren't you already? Don't you kill? No, I do what I do in the service of the Lord my God. I will not be daunted by my momentary weakness, it comes to us all but I cannot allow it to come to me. When you stand before a Demon of the pit and chant the ageless prayers that may bind it you cannot falter. If you falter you will die, David learned that the hard way.
David was a good kid, he wasn't really Catholic..I mean he was a Muslim. He used these weird arabic rituals to bind Demons, but he was a demon himself. Muslims can't have that kind of power, they can't bind Demons without being them. His parents were right off the boat or plane or whatever from Saudi Arabia, and they tried to give him a normal name. It was him who saught out his Islamic origins really though. But they are the enemy as well, Muslims are just Demons fighting Demons.
The Crusaders couldn't have been wrong, not for almost three hundred years of fighting. Am I deluding myself though? They killed in cold blood. Stay the path, remember Padre? Devils, Demons all of them. Must stay the path. I ramble, I forgot to start at the beginning. I grew up in a little Catholic family in Northern Pennsylvania, but I wasn't really interested in my faith until a couple of years ago. The sad thing here is after a few years I am a vetern in this Exorcist thing.
So many die, I never had a family, though I married, and now I live a chaste life to be closer to my profession. I cannot have distractions, I cannot avert from the path. Anyway, Sylvia was a beautiful girl, but she had a demonic master. I met her in one of those internet cafes, looking up Christian books from the internet. She was Hitler's perfect girl, blonde hair, blue eyes, docile and submissive sounding.
Me and her talked, and when she peered over at the computer screen I was staring at her interest seemed to heighten. She was Episcipalian, watered down Catholic. Whatever though, it's not important. I was trying to get into my faith at my parent's plea, but I was happy living my life with my wife, owning a small book store myself. She told me her boss was a big time dealer who had lots of books on the subjects, and by contacting him I could find the best.
So I went home and I called this guy, he had a gruff voice..and I still remember it today. He told me to come to his special warehouse, but first he asked about my situation. I had told him I was just a guy looking for faith. I told Lauren, my wife, that I had to go buy a book to find myself and she kind of looked at me funny as I walked out the door.
I drove my 97' Dodge Ram to the book warehouse, a discount place where you can get dirty books for like half the price. I got out and went inside, it was after hours at ten so it was just Sylvia and a large imposing man with short brown hair and glasses, wearing a black suit named Rufus. He had a few books on the table before him, and he waved me over. It was kind of odd that he would sit there and wait for me to come after hours, weird.
Sylvia just smiled at me and clung to Rufus's arm, submissive as ever. Slut, I thought as I approached the pile of books. Looking at them they were the latest on Christian culture and lifestyle, but the book at the bottom caught my attention. The cover was written in Latin, I still don't know enough to desipher the title but Rufus told me that it was "Of Demons and their identities, enemies of the faith."
Weird book, written at least three hundred years ago it had that old creaky leather binding. I held it up and he flashed a toothy grin at me. "So your not the best Christian I hear Ted?" I told him it was none of his buisness, and flipped through the book. He asked me if I believed in demons and I shook my head, one of those weird Catholics who only half believed half of the docterite.
I saw a picture of one of those winged pitch-fork demons with dead raven's wings and a twisted, shadow face. I looked up from the book and Sylvia was hanging on the arm of a mirror image of the thing in the book. I just blinked, sure I was hallucinating. I was a good boy, I'd never done drugs. The thing spoke in a loud voice, and Sylvia seemed to shiver with excitement as it rang out. "DO YOU BELIEVE NOW? BASTARD SON OF ADAM?"
I recoiled as if struck, practically falling on my ass. The thing hovered above me, and extended a hand. I felt mesmerized, enchanted by the swirling shadow over the slightly taller and more muscular rufus. An aura of darkness enfolded over me, and I as unconcious. I awoke later in a back room of the warehouse, with Sylvia tending to my forehead with a hot rag. A pile of old, leather bound books were by my bed and Rufus sat across the room at a table, human again.
I cried out, trying to sit up but with strength I didn't think Sylvia had she held me down, or maybe I was weak I couldn't tell. Rufus walked over to the bed and looked down at me, and he watched me with his cold green eyes. He told me I was going to learn how to fight those like him, but not him. And I was going to read those books. The threads of fate had brought me to him he said, and I was going to do my part in the destiny of the world.
I was kept in that room for days, I was allowed a call home to my wife to tell her that I had gotten called away for a guild seminar on my cell phone and I was just going to be away for a few days. My voice almost cracked telling her, but I had to tell her something so she didn't send out the calvary or anything.
I started to read the books, they were all old, but written in English. It seems Rufus had tried to translate them as best he could, and they gave me hidden prayers, hidden ways to bind: Demons. Rufus told me that there were Demons bigger and badder than him out there, and that I would need to help those like him take them down. It sounded like a really good way to get myself killed, and my mind was still coming back from the shock it had the night before.
Rufus came up and visited me once awhile, and I saw through my little window people going out in their daily lives, unaware of the Demons that stalked the night. After a few days I had my first assignment from Rufus, but not the last. A servant of one of the big demons was coming to in essence parlay with Rufus, and I came down as the two were meeting in the main room, after hours of course.
My brown eyes adjusted to the dim light of the closed store as I saw the Italian looking man, with long black hair and a suit like Rufus's on sitting across from Rufus at a table. The place had a little coffee shop in it, and they were at a table. An ornate Italian cross in my left hand, a bible in my right I walked towards the table, in my three day dirty sweater and jeans and the Italian man looked at me. "Ahmael I use thine name to invoke thine energies whilist they last on this Earth of God's. I pray to Michael and Uriel, take thee this night and banish thee from this plane of existance, back to the abyss. Leave thy stolen corpse, leave the shell to rot. It is better to dispose of such rotten feasts then to let their foul stench bring about the ghost."
The Italian man blinked, Ahmael was the word that stung him first and his body glowed red at first, his skin starting to glow red and firey. Spikes appeared on his hands and his teeth turned to fangs, An aura of flamed engulfed him, and his powerful transformation sent the chair under him flying. His black hair disappeared, a bald head's eyes glaring at me. I felt bolstered in my faith, and conviction. I was fighting a Demon.
Lost in the magic of the situation, I almost forgot my prayers, I almost faltered. I prayed for a few more moments and the Italian fell to his knees, wincing with one eye completely closed. Rufus took out a knife and curtly approached the fallen demon, jamming the ornate dagger in his right eye and causing steam to whisp off of the body. Interestingly enough, he made the sign of the cross with the dagger, and when it was done I stopped praying, the sizzling head melting into the ground, a ghostly wisp rising from the body and dissipating.
Rufus walked over to me and patted me on the shoulder with a grin. I had wondered that night why I couldn't do it to Rufus and two explanations came to me. One I had not the name of the demon, and two he was more powerful than I could have imagined. He called the Italian man servant of the "Earthbound" he who must die.