A Delightful Life

He sat alone in his living room of his one bedroom condo.  His recliner was positioned perfectly to his flat-screen television.

He was binging on a Netflix show.  It was a show about a lawman in a remote area of the country dealing with crime.  He was amazed at how picturesque the landscape was and he wondered if he could live there.

In his 40s, having been married and divorced with no children, he realized there wasn’t much holding him back from attaining such a delightful lifestyle.  His life in the city-suburb where he currently lived was far too complicated for his tastes.

He had bills, traffic, deadlines, health issues, and unnecessary responsibilities.  He had alimony, a mortgage, and a career.

But he thought about it all.  He could conceivably work from home, provided his company gave the blessing to do so.  He wasn’t going to be working for much longer anyway, so if his company fired him, he would just be stranded in a remote location with little to no bills.  And he’d consider it early retirement.

So he did the math in his head, went to his computer, and, after checking out a couple of porn videos, found a nice, small house in a rural town that was in the middle of the woods but not too far from a town which provided everything he’d ever need.

The next day, he proposed to his superiors that he should work remotely.  While they mulled that over, he went about the processing of purchasing the cabin, which was much cheaper than his overpriced condo.

Within a couple of months, everything was approved, signed, packed, and otherwise accounted for.  He found himself on a moving truck driving a few hours away from the city-suburb he felt he had wasted so much time in.

The small house had a couple extra rooms, so he set up a home office, a living room, a dining room, and a bedroom.  Once his condo sale had gone through, he had no mortgage anymore, just an electricity bill and the annual government rent payment.

There was Internet access, although it took him a week or so to get it working.  Technicians rarely make those long trips.

But after another week of effort, he finally had everything he needed set up.

And so, in the early Spring, he started his delightful life.

But as the Spring season raised the temperature of the air, so too it brought all kinds of insects. He found himself fighting off ants, centipedes, spiders, and other assorted intruders in his fortress of solitude.  He was certain that he once swallowed a centipede in his sleep, but he wasn’t sure.

Then the mice invaded his kitchen.  He never had trouble with mice in his condo, but this time he found himself buying traps at the local Wal-Mart.

These were those wonderful “humane” traps which caused the mouse to get stuck on a sticky pad and starve to death.  He found himself crushing their heads with his boot because he couldn’t stand to see them suffer.  The first time was grueling and horrible.  But he got used to it eventually.

He found himself getting less sleep as time went on.  With many of the local birds returning from their winter migrations, they sang happily at all hours of the night and he could just not quite get used to their sounds.

His work suffered as well.  His Internet connection was pretty decent but it would often times go down, sometimes when he was engaged in a remote meeting.  The outage would sometimes last hours at a time and he would find himself working late nights just to make up the lost time.

As Spring brought forth Summer, he found that the heat was unbearable.  His house didn’t have much of an air conditioning system, just a window device in his bedroom, so he had windows open and lots of fans running.  At least he didn’t have to dress professionally for work.

On top of that, the mosquitos started to swarm and somehow found their way inside, in spite of his best efforts to keep them out.

Then, in early August, he awoke to see a massive wasp nest outside his bedroom window.  Already the wasps were trying to get into his bedroom through the screen.  The mere sight of those devilish beasts freaked him out and he immediately sought an exterminator, not wanting anything to do with them.

By the middle of September, the weather started to cool and the insect problem gradually went away.  But heating his house proved to be problematic as well, since his heating system was old.  He found that chopping wood and keeping his fireplace going became a regular thing.  Good thing that firewood was plentiful.

Until the wintertime.  In early December, he ran out of wood to chop.  He didn’t dare try and cut down a tree on his property, largely because he figured he smash his home.  So he found himself going into town and buying as much firewood as he could.

His old Sedan was able to carry all that he needed, so he decided to buy a nice, big truck.  Between that, the flannel, the boots, and the long underwear, he was becoming more and more rugged everyday.

And he hated it.  He missed consistent Internet connectivity.  He missed being around people.  He missed not having to kill helpless mice, not having to start a fire, and, above all else, he missed just dropping his trash off in a dumpster, as trash pick-up consisted of him picking it up and taking it to a dump that was an hour away.

By the end of winter, he made a decision: he would move back.  And so, having saved a bunch of money from living so frugally in his remote home, he was able to buy a small condo back near his old dwelling, this one within walking distance of his office.

He kept the home, but converted it into a vacation home and rented it out to vacationers who wanted the mountain experience, but only temporarily.

After five years of buying his delightful life, he was summarily let go of his employment.  But, between the severance, the money provided by his rental, and his own savings, he considered it early retirement.

And his life was delightful.

Four: Infernum Henrici Gustui

This is a continuation of a fictional story I have been writing off and on.  The first part is here, second here, and third here.

“I’m leaving you James,” said Rachel. Her bags were at the door. Well, everything she could carry. I’d be damned if I was going to carry any of it. I was tempted to toss her stuff out the door or take her luggage out in an ironic manner.

But I had too much of a dry wit to do either.

“Are you still here?” I curtly asked.

“There’s no need to be---“

“Be what? A dick? An asshole? I’ve got every right to be any single one of those things right now and YOU FUCKING KNOW IT!”

She started to cry. Classic defense in the face of my rare moments of expressing myself. Ironically, she always wanted me to express myself in all situations except when we were fighting.

I took a breath.

“Just go”, I said.

She opened the door, went down the stairs, and got into Eric’s car as he loaded up her luggage, walked around to the driver’s seat, and drove off.

I shut the door and sat down on the couch. It was done. With that final act, our marriage was over.

Just as well. There were no children due to her miscarriages. There wasn’t much stuff to split between us due to my minimalist lifestyle.

I looked up at the wine on the countertop in the kitchen. May as well get started.

As I poured my glass, Eric suddenly appeared on the countertop surface. He was mouthing something. It looked like “ice cream”.

I looked up just in time to see a demonic face flash on the door of the cabinet. And I knew what was happening.

I had only heard of this from aged exorcists before. It was usually something that happens to the younger apprentices when dealing with a stronger than average demon. An experienced exorcist usually had the proper blocks in place to deal with this.

But this wasn’t a slightly above average demon. On the 10 point scale, the average demon was about a 4 with the above average a 6.

I was dealing with something that was at least an 8.

Right now, Eric was probably keeping the other demons and imps away from my body. How he managed to get that message to me while doing that was anyone’s guess.

I broke wine glass into a sharply pointed instrument. I then carved “IHC” into my left forearm. The world around me started to blur and instead of blood spelling out what I just carved, there was fire and light.

And then I was back in the girl’s room again.

I checked my left arm and there were cuts spelling “IHC” in blood.

“Ooh, that must have hurt,” it said.

I glanced around for Eric. He was pressed against the girl’s dresser struggling against an unseen foe. It looked like his hair was being pulled while engaged in a spiritual game of mercy with something taller than he was.

I lifted my right hand, palm open, in his direction.

“Demon in nomine Iesu eieci te de hoc mundo!” I shouted.

Immediately, a gust of wind flew out from where I was standing and hit Eric, knocking him over. But his struggle had stopped.

“One down,” I said.

Eric quickly got up.

“Where’s the other one?” I asked.

He darted glances around the room. His face stop to the left of the girl.

I looked over. I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Not even a smell.

“Show me,” I commanded to Eric.

“You sure?” he asked. His reluctance was understandable, but the situation called for it.

“Don’t question me!” I yelled at him, more out of the residual anger from my dream, than for his doubt.

Immediately he ran to me and touched my shoulder. The nausea started as the unnatural colors were revealed to me. Someone like me wasn’t meant to see what Eric could see, but the enemy I was fighting was hidden from natural vision.

Next to the archdemon, which I could now make out more clearly than the face of the girl, was a tall, brawny shadow-man with horns, red eyes, and a carnivorous goatish face.

It looked at me and started to move toward me with bloodthirsty eyes.

I quickly clapped my hands together and chanted, “Spiritum Sanctum nos protegat”.

Immediately a cool blue field rushed forth and from me and pinned the shadow-man to the wall. With a little effort of will, I pressed it further in and the shadow-man dissolved away.

Eric took his hand off of me and I stumbled a bit, dazed from both seeing the unnatural world and the toll that last maneuver took on me.

It took me a couple seconds to get my balance but I had more time now that the archdemon’s bodyguards were taken care of.

I looked up to it, now just the face of a sickly preteen girl.

“Your turn”, I said.

It laughed.

“Those weren’t my bodyguards,” it said, “They were just an amusement for me. You think I needed them since I have my anchor now.”

It thumps the girl’s chest.

Eric looks a little shocked when it said this.

“I’ve never seen a demon get this far in a possession,” he stammered.

“Don’t address it,” I said, “It lies all the time. When it isn’t lying, it’s exaggerating. Remember, there is nothing that our Holy Father cannot do.”

“I’m still here,” it said, “don’t you know it’s rude to talk about someone when they’re right in front of you.”

It fixed its gaze on Eric.

“Tell me young man, what was it like to fuck your best friend’s wife behind his back?” it asked adding, “Did you pull her hair? Did you-“

“Silence!” I shouted.

“Or what?” it retorted, “You’re going to evict me? Son, I’ve got this girl. She wanted me here anyway and you can’t subvert her free will. Besides, you’re impotent against something like me anyway. Especially if your wife left for that pathetic loser beside you.”

Something snapped. I know that cliché has been used before, but this time, I truly lost it. I raced up to the girl and jump on top of her. I grabbed her by the throat with my right hand and held up my left hand.

“Infernum Henrici gustui!” I shouted.

It was a forbidden technique, one that my order forbade not because of its effectiveness but because of the after effects. But in that moment I didn’t care. I just wanted the damned thing out as soon as possible.

The palm of my hand became like nothing with fire around the edges. I thrust it onto the chest of the girl.

It screamed. The scream was deafening hitting both ends of the musical spectrum.

“THIS IS WHAT HELL IS LIKE YOU FUCKING FIEND!!” I bellowed as I held my hand down.

The burning started as I did. But I held on. This girl had to be free. Lives beyond her own depended on it. With it using her flesh, it would grow up and become prominent figure in politics or business. We would see a fiend in the guise of a woman pervert and subvert the Father’s Will for us. I couldn’t let it happen.

The pain didn’t stop at my hand. My brain suddenly felt much larger than my skull could contain. My ears popped. My eyes went blind. My nose could no longer smell anything. And my body went numb.

My hearing was fine though. I could hear the screams. I guess this was part of the experience of Hell.

I had trouble thinking straight. I had to focus on the screaming. It would let me experience that. I couldn’t tell if it would stop or not. There was no inhalation, just exhales of noise.

Gradually, the screams turned to a whimper. Then a rush of wind passed out of the girl’s mouth. I lifted my hand from her chest. Sight returned, along with touch, taste, and smell. My hand became flesh again.

Only I couldn’t move my fingers. My hand was stiff now. There was no feeling in it either. The life had left it.

I turned my head toward the girl. She was lying on the bed motionless. Her eyes stared deep into nothing.

I crashed onto the ground next to the bed and banged my head against the wall. My hand was useless but the girl was even more so.

Eric gawked at me for a moment. Then he proceeded to sit down across from me leaning against the bed.

“You tortured it out of her,” he said. A small tear ran down his cheek. He knew what I had done and the potential cost to my body and my sanity.

“I didn’t come to fix her,” I said, “but to get it out of her, no matter the cost.”

He nodded in slight agreement. I knew better than he did what the Father’s Will was in all this. But to be honest, I didn’t see much more than he did.

“Is there anything else here?” I asked Eric.

He got up and glanced around the room. Then, he went to the door and opened it and looked down the hall. After a few seconds, he closed it and turned around.

“Nope, they all appear to have run off,” he said.

Now that my sense of smell was back, the overwhelming smell of burnt hair and cinnamon had vanished. I pulled myself up with my good arm.

“What do we do now?” Eric asked.

“We go out there and tell them the archdemon is gone,” I replied.

“And what about their daughter?” he asked.

“We’ll give them Cammy’s number,” I responded.

“I can call her myself right now,” said Eric, “You’ll need her services too. You aren’t going anywhere for the next few hours.”

“I doubt there is anything she can do for me,” I responded.

“It never hurts to try,” he said as he pulled out his cell phone.

Strange that it didn’t break during his struggles.

“Cammy, we need you now,” Eric said into the phone.

Then his voice started to get more muffled. My vision blurred.

Three

“What you have is an archdemon inside of your daughter, Mr. Scott,” I said to the somber man in his 40s.

“What’s the difference from what you said last time?” he asked.

“Last time I thought I was dealing with a regular demon,” I said, “mostly because that is usually the case in most possessions.  An archdemon rarely possesses someone.  They usually are the ones who command the demons who possess people.  They hardly can be bothered to do it themselves.”

“How do you know this?” asked Mrs. Scott.  She was the one who dragged my unconscious body from the girl’s room a month ago and got me to the hospital.  While my life wasn’t in danger, at the time I doubt even I was would have known it.

“It pretty much admitted it to me the first time,” I responded, “Also, it managed to command various imps, which are low level demons who aren’t strong enough to possess, but do like to knock physical objects around.  The Catholic Church sometimes believes them to be souls trapped in purgatory.”

Eric was casually setting up a protection circle as I explained what was going on.  He calmly poured the stuff around the living room of the house.  It would keep the imps out and protect the family from other possessions.

Paying no attention to my assistant, Mr. Scott asked, “so is that what hit you on the head last time?”

“No, it was the dictionary that the imp threw that hit me on the head,” I quipped then added, “that is why I brought help this time around.”

I pointed to Eric.  He looked up at everyone, smiled, then proceeded to pour more of the salt and ash in the circle.

“What do you need him for?” Mrs. Scott asked.

“Eric has unique abilities that will help keep me focused on the exorcism,” I responded, “mainly he can see the spirits where as I can’t.  This allows him to anticipate the attacks as well as fight back against them.”

“Fight back, how?” she asked.

“I usually just grab them and throw them against the wall,” said Eric, “despite their lack of physical form, I’ve been ‘gifted’ with the ability to see, hear, and touch them.  They generally flee when they realize that they can be harmed.”

“What do they look like?” Mr. Scott asked.

“Usually just blobs of odd colors, although they sometimes take physical shape,” he said.  He was leaving out one important fact: that those odd colors tend to drive seers like Eric insane over time due to the unnaturalness of them.  I was surprised that Eric had kept most of his sanity this long.

“Were you born with that gift?”, Mr. Scott asked.

“I was,” he responded, “but you have to understand that I hardly ever see them.  Also, most people who do see them usually do so because they had previously been possessed themselves.”

I shot a glance at him.  If the exorcism was successful, I didn’t want Holly’s parents to know that she might end up a gibbering idiot anyway.

Eric ignored me and walked to the coffee table, which was now in the center of the room.  He reached into the already opened briefcase that was placed on it and pulled out a blue candle with a cross on the side of it.

“Once I light this candle, you are to stay within the circle,” he said to the family.

“What good will it do?” Mrs. Scott asked.

“It will prevent the archdemon from possessing any of you once I am able to expel it,” I explained.

“What about the imps?” she asked.

“Once the archdemon is gone, they will disperse,” I said.

“What is to protect you or your friend?” Mr. Scott asked.

“Our gifts provide us with protection from possession,” I said.  In truth, our faith did, but I didn’t want to have to explain to them that their faith was lacking.  Also, the circle and the candle were merely tools to strengthen what little faith they had.  They did nothing on their own.

“We can explain all about our world after we finish the task at hand,” said Eric.  He then unceremoniously lit the candle.

I stood up from the chair and smiled at them.

“Don’t worry, today we will get your daughter back,” I said.  I shouldn’t make promises like that, but I was fairly confident that today the archdemon would be exercised at least.  As for the mental state of Holly, God only knows.

Eric and I looked at each other and walked down the hall toward Holly’s bedroom.  The door was shut with bolts.  She had been restrained with only her mother to take care of her, which had been troublesome at best.  I can’t imagine how that woman was able to change the bedpans and provide food to the girl without acquiring several injuries herself.  Perhaps this archdemon understood the importance of the caretaker until it was fully in control of the poor girl.

As we approached the door, Eric paused for a second.

“James, there’s imps all along the hallway and they’ve taken form,” he said.

Not good.  This meant that the archdemon was asserting more and more control over the various spirits in the area.  It also meant that he was going to be even harder to get out of the girl.

“We’ll deal with them later,” I said.

I unbolted the door and opened it.  Holly was sitting up in her bed, back against a pillow and a headboard.  She had a sinister smile on her face that would put most serial killers to shame.

In a demonic, yet sweet voice, she said to me, “Welcome back to my kingdom James.  I hope your performance this time around is more amusing than last time my court jester.”

The games these things play.  I glanced over at Eric.  He was already pale and nervously sweating.

“James, there are more than just imps in here with it,” he gasped, “there are two regular demons standing as bodyguards on either side of the bed.”

Shit.

Two

“You know it’ll use me against you, right?” he said as he unclicked his seatbelt.

“Yes, I know,” I replied as flashes of the good times with Rachel went through my head.

“But this is what needs to happen,” I added after a brief pause.

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” Eric asked.

“Yeah, I should be okay,” I said, then smiled and added, “I hate them more anyway.”

He was taken aback by that last part.  I guess my dark humor is lost on most people.  I don’t know if God himself really understands it.  Good thing you don’t go to Hell for having a twisted sense of humor.

Both of us got out of the car and closed the doors.  It was a cloudy day and the gray atmosphere didn’t really help the situation.  Piles of leaves sat in the streets waiting to be picked up by some city worker.

The house we approached, however, hadn’t even a single leaf on the street.  The house itself was a bit rundown, like there hadn’t been any regular maintenance work for months, which was probably the case considering the circumstances of the family residing in it.

We had been fasting for about a day now, along with praying.  But no amount of prayer or fasting can really prepare you for that knot you get in your stomach leading up to something like this.  Or maybe it was hunger at this point.  Regardless, I did feel a sense of peace despite my physical unease.

We started to make our way up the long driveway to the front door.

“How old is the girl?” he asked.

“She’s eleven I think,” I replied, “though I don’t know that for certain.  Her features were a bit distorted when I went in for my initial assessment.  I never thought to ask her parents and I only have some photos to go by from earlier this year to guess her age.”

“Always the analytical type I see,” Eric said, “it’s amazing that you’ve even been called to this line of work.  I would’ve thought the Good Lord would have had someone more passionate and spiritual in mind.”

“Oh, I am spiritual in my own right, you know that,” I said and quickly added, “just because I’m not shouting out Hallelujah every Sunday or singing hymns on a regular basis doesn’t mean I’m not part of the Body.”

“Believe me, I am well aware of that,” Eric said.  He then shifted his focus back to the task at hand by asking, “Are the parents believers?”

“If they weren’t before this happened, they should be now,” I replied, “though what shape their faith will take on after this is as good a guess as any.”

“Did they have anything occult-like in their household?” he asked.

“I didn’t see anything, but then again, they didn’t really want me to look around.” I replied, “although her parents did mention that this all started after a slumber party at a friend’s house.”

“Ah, the old girls sleepover with activities that resemble softcore witchcraft,” scoffed Eric.

“And 99% of the time, those harmless activities are just that," I responded, “but I think there was something more serious in this case.  It doesn’t matter at this point since it clearly chose her because of her detachment from reality and vivid imagination, along with a somewhat strained relationship with her family.”

“How big is the family?” he asked.

“The two parents, both worked until this happened, and three kids,” I responded, “the youngest is a boy and is five and the older brother is 14 I believe.  I suspect the youngest was a surprise.  Also, considering that the youngest gets considerable more attention, I suspect that this girl’s current path started when he was born.”

“Whatever happened to kids using drugs and sex to alleviate their relationship abandonment?” Eric quipped.

We had reached the door.  Eric started to reach for the doorbell.

I quickly reached for his hand and said, “Wait, I need you to understand what you role is in this.”

“I know what it is,” he replied.

“I need you to state it because I can’t have you deviating like last time,” I said.

“Fine,” he stated, drew in his breath, and said, “I am to use my gift to guard you from the spiritual forces that may physically or mentally attack you in order to prevent you from accomplishing your task.  That is the extent of my role in this exorcism.  I am not to touch or talk to the demon directly nor am I to invoke His authority unless you are unable to do for whatever reason.  In that case, I’m to only calm the demon down as best I can so I can get you to safety.”

I needed him to state it out loud because he needed to understand the gravity of the situation and I needed reassurance.  The last time he deviated, he ended up drooling and muttering nonsense for a few months in a lunatic asylum.  The weakness of his gift makes him more susceptible to such things if he loses his focus.

Rachel wasn’t happy about that and was especially angry when I placed the blame on him.  I wonder if she was with him then….

I needed to focus.  I nodded at him and he reached again for the doorbell.  Before he pushed it, however, the front door opened and a middle-aged plump woman answered it.

“Hello Mrs. Scott, it is good to see you again,” I said then nodded to Eric and stated, “this is Eric Braun and he’s going to assist me this time around.”

She looked over him as he smiled and waved at her.

“I thought you were going to get a professional priest,” she said.

“I’ve done this kind of thing with Eric before and he’s much more valuable than a generic man of the cloth,” I replied.

“Well, you are the expert,” she muttered sarcastically.  The last time I had seen her was from a hospital bed and it took an hour of convincing to allow me to try again.  I think she was frightened I might die the next time around.

“Come on in, we’re all here,” she said, “my husband even has taken a vacation day so that he could help out if needed.”

“I appreciate the gesture, but if things go well this time, he won’t have to do much but pray,” I responded.

There was a taint in the air coming from the house.  I glanced over at Eric.  He was a little paler now.  I suppose he could see the taint itself.

Some days I wonder which of us got the short end of the stick when it comes to our gifts.  It looked like today I was the fortunate one.

We stepped into the house.

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.