Thursday, June 12, 2014

Memoirs of a Closet Exorcist

There are no rules when it comes to the supernatural.  Nothing concrete anyway.  Well, there is one rule, but I’ll get to that later.

The supernatural is the realm of existence just beyond the confines the natural realm that is readily observable by our natural senses (eyes, ears, nose, mouth, or skin).  Even if we have not personally observed all possible natural phenomenon, the mere fact that we can is what separates the supernatural world from the natural one.

But that’s a bit of a breakdown of how things are.  There are things just beyond our natural senses whose power and, more importantly, influence is much stronger than most people realize.

There are some people who are specially attuned to it.  I’m not.  I just know what I know based on past experience.  I wish I could see what some other see, but I fear that I might end up schizophrenic.  Or, at least, that is what other people would think.  Like what happened to Eric.

I mentioned that there is one rule.  I should tell you that.  But I don’t think your ready for it.  Not yet anyway.

What we call the supernatural is actually the natural world that has been hidden from us.  The reason is quite simple: there are forces whose primary weapon is deception.  They use deception because they would not have as much influence if they were to reveal themselves.  People would know what they are in that case.

They rule over us.  At least, that is what they do for now.  Although their master was locked away a long while ago.  Since then, they have been divided and fighting each other.  At least that is the claim, although the few I’ve talked to seem to indicate it.  They could be lying about this.  Or just spinning the truth.  It never mattered either way.

I suppose I should let you know what I do.  Well, it is more of a side task than a career path.  These days, it is rare for my services to be used, but there is plenty of sickness out there.  More than most people would like to admit or realize.  I suspect that many world leaders suffer from this sickness, but I’ve never been able to get close enough to verify it.

I know, I said I wasn’t attuned to them like other people.  Like Eric.  But I can identify the common traits of the sickness (I’m calling it that for now in order to avoid the more sensational version).  It can be subtle.  Every once and a while I’ll see someone on the streets with it.  But I can’t help them unless they want to be helped.  Or it has progressed beyond their ability to make cognitive decisions.  The latter case is rare but usually when I intervene.

Anyway, what I do is cure the sickness.  Well, I don’t do much per se, but act as a vessel to allow the proper forces to have access to cure the sickness.  It is still their world after all.  The others are the true rebels, despite what many people would have you believe.

I’m not a big fan of the police.  They tend to use physical force with the afflicted.  This only results in the disease taking hold more firmly.  Brain damage isn’t good for the soul, after all.

They don’t like me much either.  Where ever I go, they tend to run me out of town in some way or another.  I’m missing a few teeth because of one particularly nasty incident with a fat, angry sheriff’s deputy.  Fortunately, I found a good dentist.  Sometimes I still feel the pain though.

That’s another thing about me.  Like my father and his grandmother, I have a very good memory.  I remember things that happened when I was less than a year old.

Like my mother walking out on me.

After she tried to drown me.

I still remember the smell, though my eyesight wasn’t fully developed then.  It was that odor, a combination of burnt hair and cinnamon, that would help me later to identify the afflicted.

Strangely, the smell dissipated when I locked eyes with her.  It’s never happened like that before.

She fled, of course.  Left a short note for my dad and left me in my crib for six hours.  My father found me later that day, fed me, and took care of me ever since with the help of my grandmother.

I think I became an adult that day.  My friend and family always said that I was mature for my age.  I guess a near death experience at the hands of your mother will do that.

Anyway, yeah, I have good memory retention.  A slightly above average IQ though.  Kind of a paradox really.  All that knowledge and not enough processing power to handle it.  Sometimes if I lose focus, I get nasty headaches.

To top that off, my observational skills are top-notch, which is why I never needed Eric’s “gift”.  I didn’t have to see them to know they were around.

My actual job, or at least the one I fill out a tax return for, is software consulting.  Basically, I travel the country and fix people’s bad software for them.  You cannot imagine how much trouble outsourcing has caused many mid-sized companies over the years.  But I can’t complain.  It gives me a steady income.

In reality, this job funds my other activities.  When I’m not trying to understand why a column called “YuletideCheerFactor” contains a GUID as a data type, I am out fighting for humanity.

There I go getting all heroic.  No, I am actually freeing people of the disease.  It’s a thankless job.  Usually when a person is freed, they tend to be overwhelmed with feelings a guilt and remorse for the things they’ve done.  It’s like if you gave a sociopath a sudden jolt to his moral compass along with a shot of memories of all the bad things they done in their lives.  Half the time, I have prevent them from committing suicide.

They get better after a time.  Usually, the relief of being rid of the disease is enough to keep most of them from going insane with grief.  But I’m rarely around for that part.  I usually get letters to my P.O. Box and the occasional thank you card.  And death threats.

There is one rule.  He rules.  Well, he rules over all and is merely allowing the others to think they have control.  I don’t understand it myself.  But after all that I’ve seen, heard, smelt, and done, I am glad to know that he is on the side of good.

Invoking him will cause the afflicted to eject the disease.  It is not an easy task, depending on progressed the disease is.  But there is no physical cure for this disease.  It is a distinctly spiritual one.  And while the state of our physical bodies do affect our spiritual well-being, curing them does not get rid of spiritual disease.

I guess you say I’m an exorcist.  But I’ve never looked at it like that.