The Ghost Chronicles (13 page)

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 glasses 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 glasses, 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. “
Exorcizámus te, omnis immúnde spíritus
…”

An infrared shot of Brian the Monk conducting the exorcism (client’s face obscured to protect her identity).

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 glasses slid down his nose. He pushed his glasses back into place and continued his prayers.

Brenda began to moan slightly and shift uncomfortably with each word passing 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 assailed 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 infernálium spirituum potestáte, láqueo deceptióne et nequitia nos poténter liberáre, et incólumes custodire dignéris. Per Christum Dóminum 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
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.

As Brian and Ron left to hang the pictures, I sat beside Brenda on the couch. “So, Brenda, how are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling worlds better. It’s amazing. I’m so grateful for everything all of you have done for me.” As Brenda lifted her purse off the floor beside the couch and rummaged for her wallet, I could tell she wanted to offer us monetary compensation.

I placed my hand on top of Brenda’s. “Please. We appreciate the offer, but this is volunteer work. We’re just happy that you’re going to be all right.”

Brenda looked a little taken aback. Tears glistened in her eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Positively.” I smiled. Warmth spread through me. Although I’d been fearful of coming here, one look at Brenda and I was extremely happy that I did.

“Brenda, we’re all set here,” Brian said as he and Ron stepped off the last step and walked into the living room. “As you can see, Ron and I have finished hanging the images. Also, we’ve blessed all the doors, windows, and the rest of the rooms with
holy water, so you should be all set.” He smiled. “Do you have any questions for me before we head out?”

“You feel confident that it’s gone?” Brenda asked, her voice sounding a little unsure, afraid to believe the horror she’d been living was now gone for good.

“Yes. But make sure you follow the directions I gave you. If you have any more problems, feel free to give Ron a call and we’ll come back out as soon as possible. But truthfully, I know you’re going to be just fine.”

Two weeks later, while writing an article about protection, I went to my jewelry box for a better look at the scapular that I’d worn that night. The instant my hands came in contact with it, I dropped to my knees. A searing pain pierced my heart. I gasped for breath. My hand on the dresser, I steadied my breathing and pulled myself up and off the floor. It took a moment for my mind to clear. To realize what had happened. The scapular had indeed been my protection, absorbing the negative energy, protecting me, like St. George, shielding me from the dragon’s breath. My mistake was not realizing that I should have cleansed it, blessed it with holy water. I’d learned an invaluable lesson. One that I would never forget…

W
hat would you do if you found the ashes of the former owner of a house you just purchased in the closet? Or what if your young daughter came up to you and said, “Tell that man to get out of my bed?” These aren’t hypothetical questions. These events really happened to a family in Chester, New Hampshire.

Ring, ring, ring.

“Good afternoon, New England Ghost Project.”

“Hello, Ron, this is Andrea. I Googled ‘ghosts’ and found your website. I was the one who sent you the email about what’s going on at our house. Ahhh, you know, the house with the ashes in the basement.”

“Oh yeah. Now I remember.”
Hmmm, that’s a little strange
, I thought. “Whose ashes were they?”

“George, the former owner. And things have escalated since the email.”

“What do you mean, ‘escalated’?” I asked, hoping my voice didn’t sound as apprehensive as I felt.

“There are voices coming from the woods.” With the sound of panic in her voice, she continued, “Evil laughter. We can hear a little boy crying, ‘Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.’ And if that’s not bad enough, they’re commanding us, ‘GET OUT!’ Even my husband’s starting to hear them. We feel like we’re losing our minds. Ron, we don’t feel safe here anymore. And I’m really worried about my daughter.”

The thought of a child in danger tugged at my heartstrings, and being the sensitive sort, I said, “How about Saturday night?”

Her voice quivered, sounding on the verge of tears. “Thank you. That would be great. I realize it’s short notice, but we’re desperate.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be there.” As I hung up the phone, a sense of dread assailed my senses, my gut twisting in a knot. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a premonition of what was to come or the kielbasa I ate for lunch. I was hoping it was the lunch, but we would soon find out.

* * *

“Brrrrr.” My soul shivered as I stepped out of Ron’s car, my foot coming into contact with Andrea’s paved driveway. I cringed at the sudden sharp pain boring a hole through my heart. Ron was right; it was apparent to me that the entities had come out to answer the challenge, to check out the fresh meat that dared enter their space.

The hair at the base of my neck prickled to attention. I didn’t know about anyone else, but I was ready to call it a night even though we’d only just arrived.

“Maureen, are you coming, or are you going to make a night of it?” Ron sarcastically remarked.

Pushing away the threatening feelings, I pretended to be calm. I was determined to keep up the charade as long as I had to. “Yeah, just a minute,” I quipped, doing my best to push my fears to the recesses of my mind.
Ron can be such an ass at times
, I thought. And besides, we’d come to help, and there was no way I was turning back now.

As we reached the front door I turned to look at the remaining members of the NEGP for some sort of sign, any reaction to
show me they had picked up on something too. But it looked like I was alone.

“Hi, I’m Andrea, and this is my husband, Robert. Glad you could make it.”

First stop on this little tour of horrors would be to find George, or what was left of him. “So, Andrea, what happened to George’s ashes?” I asked.

“Well, you see, from what we were told, George wanted his ashes buried beneath the maple tree he had planted in the backyard. But…” She hesitated, giving Robert a cold stare. “But Robert cut it down. That’s when we started hearing noises. Doors slamming, boxes being dragged across the floor, and throaty whispers emanating from the basement.”