The Ghost Chronicles Part 8

"I'm wearing my scapula and exorcism medal. See here." I slid the medal out from the confines of my Ghost Project shirt to demonstrate. Being the devout Catholic I am and trying to comfort her, I asked, "Do you realize the significance of wearing a scapular?"

She didn't answer, but stared out into the sea of cars as we traveled down Route 93 to 128.

"It's solely of spiritual nature," I said. "A sign of the wearer's readiness to serve." I waited for a moment to see if she was paying attention. When she returned a blank stare, I said, "A defender in the service of G.o.d and for the protection of the Blessed Mary."

She gave me a small smile. "Ron, I'll be fine."

Not more than twenty minutes later Brian was in the car.

"So, Maureen," Brian said, "I hear you've been having dreams too."

"Yes." Maureen was usually more talkative than this. She hadn't said more than five words to me since I'd picked her up from her house.

"Since we last spoke, how is Brenda doing?" Brian asked me.

I usually don't like to tell Maureen the details until after an investigation, so she doesn't go in with any biases. However, since this was an exorcism, and we were there to a.s.sist, I decided to tell all.

EXORCISM.

A ritual for the purpose of forcing a demonic ent.i.ty to stop obsessing or possessing a body.

OBSESSION.

When an evil spirit attacks the body of a human being from the outside.

POSSESSION.

When an evil spirit a.s.sumes control of a human soul from within the body.

"Like I said earlier, for the past five years she's been dealing with something unseen wreaking havoc in her life. Doors opening of their own accord, electrical outlets destroyed, the jets to her gas oven turning on by themselves, and so forth." I glanced in the rearview mirror at Maureen, her face still blank, revealing nothing, as she stared straight ahead. "Brian, she went to the church for help, but they told her to seek psychological help."

Brian asked. "What about her dog? You had also said that it was affecting her pet? I'm wondering if you'd heard anything more."

I smiled inwardly. Brian was an animal lover through and through. "Brenda said that her dog, for some unexplainable reason, starts whining uncontrollably, like he's in pain."

"Not to worry. He'll be fine," Brian said. "I have a little something for him too."

Maureen broke her silence. "Ron, I know you don't like to share details of the case, afraid that I'll go in with a preconceived notion, but if you don't mind...This once I'd like to hear what's really going on. Is there anything else that you haven't said?"

Maureen was right; I hadn't told her everything. She prefers to be kept in the dark as much as I like to withhold the details, so the fact that she was asking for more information told me she was still feeling nervous. I couldn't blame her. I'd never attended an exorcism either.

I said, "After the church turned Brenda away, she did a little research into ghosts and asked a friend to help her. They 'smudged' the condo. That's when things went from bad to worse."

SMUDGING.

A ceremony in which a bundle of herbs, most commonly sage, cedar, and sweetgra.s.s, is burned, used to drive out and keep negative energy from entering a s.p.a.ce.

"Two weeks ago, after they smudged and her friend left the house, Brenda was attacked." I took a moment to gather my words. But no matter how much I tried to soften the story, it was no use. "She was up in her bedroom on the second floor. When her dog started whining for no reason, she went to investigate. She'd barely stepped down onto the first floor landing when a spindle hit her. It had worked its way free from the second floor banister, flown down the stairs of its own accord, and struck her in the back of the head. Panicked, fearing she was not alone, she ran from room to room looking for intruders. But no one was there."

We all silently took this in for a minute, then Brian said, "Like I thought, Ron. This is the real deal."

As we stepped out of Ron's car, I stood, mouth open, staring at the tall, dark building in front of me. "That's Brenda's place?" I stammered.

"I think so. Why?" Ron asked as he squinted, holding up a small piece of paper in the yellow light of the streetlamp. "Yup. That's the one."

My breathing quickened; I nearly choked. "That-that's the house from my dream."

As if not hearing me, Ron and Brian scurried to the front door. Still stunned, I stood gaping at the house, until the sound of their voices carried from across the street.

Ron gazed over his shoulder. "You coming or what?"

I struggled to move. I shuddered as the odd sensation that I had experienced this before chilled me to the bone. Fixated on Ron's voice, I forced myself to move.

I stepped up behind Ron and Brian just as Ron pressed the b.u.t.ton to the doorbell.

The bell rang and rang, one continuous ring, not shutting off. The front door flew open. With it, the intense ringing grew louder, deafening, almost ear piercing. A tall woman stood in the open doorway. She raised her hand to her forehead. "You must be Ron." When she stepped into the light, I noticed her thick, shoulderlength, blonde hair and cringed. My heart skipped a beat. The little hairs at the base of my neck stood at attention. This was getting way too freaky. She was a living image of the woman in my dream.

Raising her voice to be heard clearly above the constant shrill of the doorbell, she said, "It's him. He does this all the time. Hurry. Please-come in."

"Brenda, I'm Brian," he said. "Please, show me where the doorbell is."

We hurried after Brenda. Within moments we were staring at the doorbell mechanism.

Brian dropped his brown leather duffel bag on the kitchen table. Retrieving a vial of holy water, he moistened his right thumb. Hurrying over to the doorbell, he made the sign of the cross. The second he did, the sound stopped.

"Brian, you rock. That's so cool," Ron said, as Brenda and I looked on in amazement.

Brian grinned. "In light of what just happened, I'd like to get this show on the road." He reached into his leather bag once again, this time pulling out his 35mm camera.

"Why do you have all that stuff on your camera?" Brenda asked, referring to the extra protection Brian had attached.

Brian held up the black Nikon camera. "I put this stuff stuff on here to protect the camera. Before I started using it, the batteries would drain, the shutter would freeze, and more often than not, the film would be ruined. Now it's protected. See here," he said, pointing to the brown wooden beads wrapped around the camera, "I have rosary beads. I bless it with holy water, and more importantly, I have a photo of the Shroud of Turin, because evil cannot look upon the face of G.o.d." on here to protect the camera. Before I started using it, the batteries would drain, the shutter would freeze, and more often than not, the film would be ruined. Now it's protected. See here," he said, pointing to the brown wooden beads wrapped around the camera, "I have rosary beads. I bless it with holy water, and more importantly, I have a photo of the Shroud of Turin, because evil cannot look upon the face of G.o.d."

SHROUD OF TURIN.

A linen burial cloth that is believed to bear the true image of Jesus Christ.

Ron placed his own duffel bag on the kitchen table next to Brian's and began to rummage through it in search of his 35mm camera and EMF meter.

As we waited for Ron to ready himself, Brenda gestured to the small, white stove in the corner of the kitchen. "Did Ron tell you what happened here?"

"No," I replied, my anxiety growing.

"One night, while making supper, I wrapped a couple of russets in tin foil and placed them on the center rack in the oven. Exhausted after a trying day at the hospital, I rested on the couch while they baked. I guess I fell asleep, because I was awakened by the shriek of the smoke alarm. I ran into the kitchen and there was smoke billowing out of the oven. Quickly opening the door, I discovered the potatoes were no longer on the center rack. In fact, they were no longer in tin foil. Somehow they ended up on the bottom of the stove, on the heating element. They were on fire." She sighed heavily. "This is the kind of stuff that I've been plagued with. I haven't added it all up yet, but if I had to guess, it would be thousands of dollars in damages." Eyes watering and voice cracking, she continued, "Please, do you really think you can help me? I'm at my wits' end. I don't know how much more I can take."

Brian drew nearer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Not to worry, this isn't my first exorcism. It'll be okay."

Ron and I followed Brenda and Brian up a set of stairs. When we reached the second floor landing, I began to sense a heavy energy. The feeling of nervous apprehension swam over me, but it was difficult to tell where it was coming from. Was I picking up on the ent.i.ty? Or was it my own fears? Was I picking up on the ent.i.ty? Or was it my own fears? Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I looked to see Brian raising his 35mm camera; he quickly snapped a shot to our left. It was the same direction from which I'd felt the first surge of energy. Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I looked to see Brian raising his 35mm camera; he quickly snapped a shot to our left. It was the same direction from which I'd felt the first surge of energy. I guess it wasn't my own fear, after all. I guess it wasn't my own fear, after all. Somehow, that thought didn't make me feel any better. Somehow, that thought didn't make me feel any better.

Brian turned to look at me with raised eyebrows. "Maureen, what are you getting?"

I gave him my first impression of the energy. "It's intense, anxious. But I feel that whatever is here is d.o.g.g.i.ng us."

"Not anymore." Brian darted off. Chasing the ent.i.ty, he ran from room to room, snapping shot after shot.

An infrared photo taken by Brian the Monk of the ent.i.ty attempting to escape his camera.

As I stood in the hallway at the top of the stairs, a surge of raw, cold energy, originating from the bedroom off to the far left, the one Brian was now in, whisked through me and descended the stairs. Brian, in hot pursuit, quickly exited the bedroom and ran toward me.

"Maureen, did you feel anything out here?" Before I had a chance to respond, pain-filled moans emanated from below us on the first floor. Brenda, who lived alone with her dog, reacted like a mother hearing her child crying in the middle of the night and hurried down the oak stairs to the first floor. "Oh no. It's after Duke again!" she screamed.

We scurried down the stairs to find Duke, Brenda's dog, whimpering. The black Russian terrier cowered in the corner, shaking uncontrollably.

Brian reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, flat square of plastic with a rawhide tie. He glanced at Brenda, nodded, and then knelt beside Duke. "This is for Duke. It's a picture of the Shroud of Turin," he said, as he attached the rawhide tie to the silver buckle of Duke's collar.

Miraculously, the dog immediately stopped whining and rested his head on Brian's knee. "See, this stuff really works."

Brenda, fidgeting with her hands, sighed. "Thank you. He finally looks peaceful." She wrapped the large dog in her arms and ran her fingers through his fur. "I haven't seen him this relaxed in months."

Brian gestured for Brenda to take a seat on the couch. "Okay, now it's your turn. But first, do you have somewhere I can change?"

Brenda and Brian walked into the kitchen as I looked at Ron. "Now what?"

"How am I supposed to know? I've never been to an exorcism before."

Brenda strode past us, taking a seat on the couch. Brian followed a short time later with his brown leather bag. His jeans and black Rolling Stones T-shirt were now replaced with a brown woolen smock, a rope belt tied around his paunchy waist. He placed his bag on the floor beside the couch. "Brenda, could you please lay back on the couch for me?" he asked. Reaching into the bag, he removed a white sash, unfolded it, and brought it to his lips, then placed it around his neck. Next he took out a heavylooking, brown, tattered Bible. Its cover was embossed with a golden cross, so faded it nearly blended into the background. Reaching into the bag once again, he retrieved a pair of wirerimmed gla.s.ses and put them on.

I shoved my elbow deep in Ron's ribs.

Ron jerked away, rubbing his side. "Ouch! What was that for?"

"Brian doesn't wear gla.s.ses, huh?"

"Oops. My bad," Ron replied, still wincing from the jab.

Brian turned to face us, his words interrupting our bickering. "We're going to open with a prayer. But I need your help. The three of us need to say it together."

"Why is that?" Ron asked.

"Because like the Trinity, it makes the prayer stronger. We'll start off with the Our Father." Then, making a cross in the air with his hand, he said, "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit."

Our voices resonated as one. "Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name..."

The sweet, pungent aroma of the anointed oil permeated the air as he ran his thumb across Brenda's forehead, and then I heard the hollowness of Brian's voice speaking in a strange tongue. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immunde spiritus..."

An infrared shot of Brian the Monk conducting the exorcism (client's face obscured to protect her ident.i.ty).

As in my dream, he moved his head slightly, looking from the Bible to Brenda, then back to the Bible again. I shivered, even as his wire-rimmed gla.s.ses slid down his nose. He pushed his gla.s.ses back into place and continued his prayers.

Brenda began to moan slightly and shift uncomfortably with each word pa.s.sing Brian's lips.

As I watched the scene unfold in front of me, tension filled the room. The energy I'd felt at the top of the stairs was now all around me, darting back and forth.

Brenda's body twisted and turned.

Bone-chilling cold encircled our bodies. Brian's voice grew stronger. Penetrating. Powerful. There was no doubt the energy I sensed was demonic. The evil presence's anger grew, escalating with each word. An acrid odor a.s.sailed my senses.

Brian sensed it too. His stance became rigid, tall, growing in stature. For a man who couldn't have been more than five foot nine, he seemed like a giant. His voice became unyielding, meeting each invisible thrust of demonic energy with his own determination.

Brenda's body was now the battleground between the demonic energy and Brian's unwavering faith. Her head tilted back and her body followed suit, her spine bowing backward then curling in as a silent scream escaped her lips. Brian quickly laid his hand upon her head. " "Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio..."

Evil roiled around me, filling the room. I gasped. As if a vacuum had sucked the air out of the room, I suddenly found it hard to breathe. Coughing, I struggled. My throat tightened, closed, constricted. Unable to swallow, I opened my mouth to scream. But no sound came out.

Brian detected my distress. Still chanting, he stepped away from Brenda for a heartbeat. Sticking his finger in the anointing oil once again, he made the sign of the cross on my forehead. The death grip on my throat lessened. Greedy for air, I inhaled deeply.

A moment later, Brian was once again at Brenda's side. Kneeling, his voice rose and reached a crescendo. "...Omni infernalium spirituum potestate, laqueo deceptione et nequitia nos potenter liberare, et incolumes custodire digneris. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen."

With that came a loud bang. Brenda's body stiffened like a corpse, then collapsed. Her chest heaved up and down. A long, exaggerated sigh escaped her as she sunk deeper into the softness of the couch. The fetid odor that had once permeated the room was gone.

Brian stood to face us. "Maureen, are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm feeling better now. Thanks."

"Wow, that was amazing. Brian, what was that sound Brenda made?" Ron asked.

"When you hear that sound, you know the exorcism was successful. The evil spirit is gone."

"Where did it go?" I asked.

"I can't guarantee where's it's gone, but I can can guarantee it's no longer here." guarantee it's no longer here."

Brenda slowly sat upright. Grabbing a tissue from her pocket, she dried her eyes.

Brian turned his attention back to her. In a gentle voice he asked, "Brenda, are you feeling any different?"

"Yes, I feel so much lighter, as if my burdens have been lifted." She smiled, genuinely. "Is it just me, or does it feel warmer in here?"

"You know, you're right, I was going to say something about that. It feels so much better in here right now." Ron said.

Brian smiled. "Okay, Brenda, the spirit is gone now, but to ensure that it doesn't come back, I'm going to hang the Shroud of Turin over your doors and on the walls facing each other. Do not take them down for at least thirty days. I'd also like it if you would start going to church."

Brenda sat solemnly on the couch, nodding as Brian relayed his instructions.

"Brian, if you want, I'll help you hang up the printouts and bless the house," Ron offered.

"I'd appreciate that." Brian said.