Chapter Seventeen: The Priest, the Shadow, and the Light

The cell door opened.

"Hello, Father," crooned a deep bass voice.

The priest strode in, slowly, deliberately. A white cassock was over his black priestly garb. Behind him strode two small children: Bart Simpson, and Martin Prince. Both wore white robes over their black dress shirts. Bart carried the Holy Bible and a small crucifix, and Martin the Rituale Romanum and a bottle of holy water.

Todd was strapped to a hospital bed in the center of the dark cell. The leg shackles on the floor were now clamped around the legs of the bed.

"So, priest, you come to me again. Again we meet." A shrill, bubbling laugh filled the air, "Bastard! Making this boy a contest between us! You don't care about him! This is all about you, you sick fuck!"

"Silence!" the priest commanded. He did not yell, yet he spoke with authority, and anger. The creature wrinkled it's face and spat upon the floor.

The Bible and crucifix were set on the bed on the wall. As he lowered the crucifix, Father O'Flaherty kissed it, and prayed.

"O Jesus, grant us through the merits of Thy many sufferings that by venerating on this earth the image of Thy Holy Face, upon which the very Angels long to gaze, that we made be made worthy to contemplate it forever in Heaven. Amen"

Martin took the Rituale Romanum and opened it to the page that he had bookmarked. He held it open for Father O'Flaherty. Bart knelt by the foot of the bed in silent prayer, a rosary in his hands.

"Your God is not here, fools!" a shrill, harsh voice called, "If He is everywhere, then where is He in this room? Where is He," it shrieked, a diarrheic flow oozing forth, a foul stench filling the air, "In this? This little freak?"

Father O'Flaherty took the bottle of holy water, and removed the stopper.

"Very well then," came a deep and malicious tone, "We shall dance!"

He grasped the bottle, then, crossing down, then left to right, then up, then down again, the father called out in a loud, clear voice:

"In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit!"

The thing screeched like an owl, writhing, pulling the cords taught.

"Our Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed by Thy Name,

Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done,

On earth a-"

The entire room gave a hideous lurch. A sweet, sickly stench billowed into the air.

"Ya lazy ingrate!" it screamed in an Irish brogue.

"-as it is in Heaven,

Give us this day our daily bread,

And forgive us our trespasses,

As we forgive those who trespass against us,

And lead us not into temptation-"

The room was chilling. Bart shivered, his breathes rising in thin puffs of mist. Martin shivered in his thin, white robe. The priest's hands were clenched hard in prayer, knuckles turning white. Long, think columns of mist shot up from the withered mouth.

"But deliver us from evil,

Amen."

"Amen," said the two boys in chorus.

"A-a-amen," mocked the demon, "Yes, lovely performance. Well rehearsed!"

"God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,

I appeal to Your Holy Name,

Humbly begging Your kindness,

That you may graciously grant me help against this unclean spirit-"

A strange and unearthly silence filled the room. A silence that pressed against Bart's eardrums. He opened his eyes, shaking with fear and cold, and saw the fox-like eyes staring back at him.

"The only unclean spirit in here is you, you vomitous ooze! Brat! Liar! Criminal! BASTARD! BASTARD!!! You're parents don't love you! You're only alive because there weren't any abortionists in Springfield then! You're a mistake! You're not wanted!"

"-unclean spirit now tormenting this creature of Yours-"

"HOW CAN THIS BE A CREATURE OF GOD?! THERE IS NO GOD IN ME!!!"

"Through Jesus Christ, Amen."

"Amen."

The thing that sat in the bed, the thing that looked like Todd, now grimaced in pain. It's lips pulled back in a hideous grimace. It snarled. It sat up straight and howled, it's voluminous cry reverberating through the dank cell.

"God, Creator and Defender of the human race," he prayed slowly and reverently, paying the monster before him no heed, "look down in pity on this, Your servant, Theodore Alexander Flanders, now trapped in the coils-"

The thing was now looking at Martin. Trembling, the child slowly turned his head. The thing grinned, and looked down at it's arm. Martin looked, and saw a long, tumorous bulge travel up and down it's arm. It traveled up into the shoulder, and down into the chest. The ribcage pulsed and swelled.

"-of man's ancient enemy, sworn foe of our race…next page, Martin. Martin?"

Martin shuddered and quickly turned to the next page, tearing the fragile paper in his haste.

O'Flaherty continued, never once looking at the beast, despite it's howling and taunting and shrieking his name.

"Save your servant, who trusts in you, my God,

Let him find in You a fortified tower in the face of the enemy."

He continued his reading. There was the sound of flapping wings. Both boys looked, and saw, perched on the head board, an ancient white owl. It's eyes were like red water, and it looked down upon them with hunger. Upon it's head was a golden crown. It howled, and shrieked, and rose, higher, and higher, until it's broad, sloping shoulders brushed the ceiling. It now stood erect atop it's tree-like legs. It stared down upon them with contempt.

The spectre vanished. Father O'Flaherty was tracing the sign of the cross upon the child's clammy brow.

"Almighty, Everlasting God,

Who sent Your Only Begotten Son into the world to crush that roaring lion,

To snatch from ruination and from the clutches of the noon-day devil this human being made in your image-"

The skin on Todd's face grew taught. Hideous, purple blotches appeared, and began to swell and quiver. A bubbling, frothing foam oozed forth from his open mouth. There was a nasty, unpleasant squelching, and the noisome stench grew.

"Drive out the persecutor of the innocent-"

A red, shivering light filled the room. The walls shivered like liquid glass, and began to curl and ebb like waves of flame. Martin saw dark objects being cast about in the flame. People. Screaming, naked people, their fingers worn to the bone, as though they had claws. They had dark, staring, lidless eyes. Skin, black and peeling off. They cried and moaned. Their screams and moans filled the room. Todd lay laughing, chortling in his throat. Amongst the people were now creatures, looking as though they were molten bronze and living ink. Theirs were hideous and deformed shapes, like beast-men and unknown creatures and things that dwell in the depths of the sea.

The ritual continued for several days. Bart and Martin would stay with the father for only a few hours at a time, then Seamus or Homer or Kearney would take their place while they showered and rested. Father O'Flaherty pushed on, not resting for three whole days, after which he showered, slept for an hour, before resuming the fight.

The days stretched and blended into a week. Then weeks. Teary, red-eyed weeks. Todd's figure grew paler and more emaciated with each passing day. He ate nothing. Only vomited. Green, wretched bile, streaked with thin, watery blood. At one point, Todd spoke, in his own voice. His voice was weak and raspy. He begged to be killed.

It was the twenty-first hour of the twenty-first day. Father O'Flaherty, thinned and careworn, continued to perform the exorcism. Bart, Homer, and Ned Flanders were in the room with him.

The pages of the Rituale Romanum were wrinkled with sweat, and torn from frequent, hurried turning. The creature in the bed was moaning, it's head lolling back and forth.

"In the name of Jesus Christ, I expel thee, fell demon,"

"Aaaah-ahhh-AH-ah!"

"In the name of Jesus Christ, I expel thee!"

The monster moaned and arched it's back, it's breathe gurgling in it's throat, tears trickling from it's closed eyes.

"In the name of Jesus Christ-!"

The thing gave a shrill squawk. Then, a strange gurgling was heard. Blood splattered out of it's nose as it exhaled. It opened it's mouth. For a moment, there was a deep, resounding note. Then blood, thick, red blood, came shooting up from it's mouth. Tears of blood spilled from it's eyes in small streams. The stream ceased; blood was dripping from the ceiling, falling on the pages of the Ritual. The bed began to shake violently.

The eyes flashed, brilliant, smoldering, red. The straps snapped like taffy, and the thing turned upon the three. Homer squealed like a woman.

The door flew open as three security guards rushed in. The thing turned and growled. One guard dropped: every blood vessel in his brain had opened. Another was flung into the wall as he tried to grab his arm.

The third guard fired his tazer. The beast screamed as the barbs struck his skin, and hot waves coursed through the boy's body. It threw it's head back and screamed. The Ritual, which Father O'Flaherty had continued to read from, flew from his hands and burst into flames.

The window shattered, and the sharp chunks pierced the guard's eyes. Bart was tossed like a rag doll. Homer charged, bellowing like a rhinocerous. The thing struck him across the head and sent him flying. The priest continued to pray. The demon glared at him.

His arms were pulled out straight. He was flung against the wall. The skin began to split along his scalp.

A single, crystalline note pierced the darkness. The creature gave a frightened yelp, and flopped flat on the bed. The priest slid down the wall, blood stinging his eyes. Homer, rubbing his head, looked up.

The walls, the bed, the room, the dead guards…all had vanished. The world was a gray haze, and Todd was floating in the air, arms spread in cruciform. A single beam of light fell upon him.

He seamed to be made of moist, white earth. Thick, black vines sprouted from him, and covered his surface.

"The light can not reach him now."

Father O'Flaherty, Homer, and Bart all looked to see who had said it. A small child, clad in white, stood by Todd. The child looked to the priest, and examined him. He looked at his face, then his Roman collar, then his face again.

"Will you clear them?"

The priest felt something being pressed in his hand. It was a pruning hook, made of gold.

The light flashed, and the vines vanished. Todd's body became as glass, and within him, there were moving things.

In his head, there was a sparkling mist. But a blackness slowly overtook it. In his chest, there was a small, trembling form, with a face like Todd's. It seemed to be made of water. In it were several tiny black specs, which swirled and spread throughout him, like dye in a glass. It screamed, for it was in pain. A large, black animal, so black that only it's shape, that of an enormous owl, could be seen, was preying on it, biting and pecking.

The three were distracted by the strange vision by the sound of a battle. The small child, wielding a tiny sword, as fighting with something in the shadows. The creature hopped about fitfully, dodging the child's blows, and attempting to impale him with a long, thin spear.

There was a burst of noise, like the end of the world, and behind them, they saw a brilliant figure of a proud and mighty warrior.

He, or rather, the figure, for neither male nor female are his kind, knelt before a man in plain, brown robes. He was saying something, but they could not understand his tongue. He stood, now shinning more brightly than ever. The man in simple peasant's clothes looked at him, and produced from nothing a fiery sword and glittering shield. The warrior knelt once more, then rose and accepted them. The man set one hand on the warrior's shoulder, then turned to look at the three men watching the strange seen. They turned and shielded their eyes, for his face was brighter than the sun, and his eyes as piercing as swords. They felt his white gaze upon him, and all felt naked and ashamed. The figure turned, looked once more at the warrior, then pointed towards the young boy still floating in midair.

The warrior flew, with wings as great as an eagle and white as the snow in moonlight, and landed beside the young the golden-haired youth who was battling the creature. The youth saw him and gasped. The warrior smiled upon the lad but briefly, then drew the mighty sword. It lit the room with a cool, piercing radiance, and the small pixie that was trembling in the corner vanished in a puff of smoke.

The warrior and the boy turned towards Todd. The warrior spread his wings, as did the young boy, and they flew straight into the child as though he was a cloud. Together, they charged the beast. Long did they fight.

As Bart and his father watched the strange and unearthly proceedings, the priest was distracted by a strange and terrible sound. It was like music, yet was not, for it was infinitely more beautiful. The sound was at once alien and familiar to him, and it caused his heart to leap and his mind to soar. He turned, and saw that it had come from the figure in the simple peasant's robes. The figure now raised him right hand, and the priest saw at once a red, gaping hole in his palm. The figure nodded towards the boy. O'Flahery understood, and turned toward the boy, right hand raised. From the figure's hand came a light; it passed through the priest's raised hand, and fell upon the boy.

Thick, black smoke issued from his mouth and nostrils, and coagulated, congealed into the spectre: the long-legged owl, Stolas, the Archdemon.

The warrior and the young lad stood opposite from the demon. The warrior held his sword high, ready to strike. The demon blanched, turning away.

A wall of flames erupted the side opposite from the brilliant figure. From it emerged an assortment of strange and horrific entities. Amongst them was Baal, his many mouths gaping. Astaroth, in the form of a man with a peacock's tail and an ass' head. Pazuzu, with it's toothy grin and tattered wings. Buer, with five legs and a lion's tail. A dark, exotic woman appeared. She was nude, and positively radiant. The priest looked at her briefly, then averted his eyes. Homer stared at her transfixed by her radiant beauty. She saw him, and smiled. Bu then, her smile grew cruel and frightening. Her skin became brick red, and several extra arms appeared. Her teeth grew until they hung from her mouth; around her neck was a garland of skulls. Homer shrieked. Again her shape changed. She yet again appeared as a gorgeous nude, but absent was her innocent guile, replaced with wantonness and cruelty. Black, scaly wings sprouted from her shoulders, and her vampiric fangs gleamed in the firelight. She was the demon Succubus.

Now came a great and frightening form. A great man, a prince, clad in black satin, with silver rings and silver chains, strode though the flames. Beside him was a large, black dog, with three heads and a dragon's tail.

He stopped before the grim and ghastly assembly. He called out, in a deep, echoing voice. His strange, foreign tongue was harsh and unpleasant. All the demons looked about, then, reluctantly, trembling with fear, a small goblin came forth. It was the one that had been battling the small child. It was Todd's tempter. With a motion like a hen catching a worm, the dark prince snatched the small sprite in his talon-like fingers and dangled it above his head. He opened his mouth. A small, hideous worm rose from his throat. At it's end, a spike-filled mouth opened. The creature squeaked. It cried and pleaded with the grim prince. He released his hold. The gremlin was sucked down his throat.

He turned towards the Ancient Owl. It shook atop it's stilt-like legs. He brought his arm across his chest, as though to strike it, but turned away.

He approached the child, still floating in mid-air. He reached out, his hand looking not unlike the gnarled claws of a vulture. The warrior snatched him around the wrist. He recoiled, breaking free of his grasp. He looked at the warrior, his lip curled in a sneer. The warrior looked back, his face impassive. The prince drew a sharp, curved scimitar, and tried to strike the warrior. His blow broke upon his golden shield. The white blade shot forth, and struck home in the prince's left breast. The demons cried and wailed. Many began to flee. A white, blindingly brilliant light was filling the room. The figure, His peasant's robes now replaced with glittering, jeweled robes, was filling the room with his brilliance. The light came like a wave: starting at the King, then rolling forth, over the three men and over the boy, and crashing over the dark man. He cast aside his sword. He reached out, his lips moving as though he were speaking. The King shed a great, glorious tear, then shook His head. Another wave came. The prince was on his knees now, pleading. The wave hit. All his dark vestments vanished. He no longer looked great or frightening, but old, crippled, and sad. Grey, broken, half-plucked wings came from his back. The King gave a command, and the warrior took his sword and plunged it into the black prince's heart.

Dawn. Pure, Brilliant Dawn! Father O'Flaherty looked about. He was in a hospital bed. As he tried to stand, he heard a crack coming from his lower back and felt the painful pull of an IV line.

"Careful now, Father!" said Seamus' familiar voice.

The priest, not hearing his old friend's admonition, tried to climb over the bed.

"I've got tuh go! Me God! The boy! The ritual!"

"Shh…" came Marge's voice, "Father, don't you remember?"

"What? What's happened? Where…?"
"Don't you remember?"

"What?"

"Ye did i'! Ach, Father!" laughed Seamus, hitting the priest with his woolen cap.

"The boy?"

"He's down the hall."

Without waiting a second longer, Father O'Flaherty climbed out of bed, grabbed the IV stand, and dashed down the sunlit hall. He looked in each room. Finally, he found him.

He had oxygen tubes in his nose, and a feeding tube was hooked into his stomach. Though sickly and thin, his skin was now a healthy, normal hue. His father knelt by the bedside, holding his hand. The boy moved his head weakly, and forced open his eyes. They were brown, and watery. He saw the priest. He smiled. His head lolled, and he slept.