part0011

Hannah gently placed a blanket across John’s sleeping body. His position hadn’t moved at all, from where he had passed out. A cold wave of sweat poured from John’s skin and it reeked strongly of stale alcohol, combined with his normal, sweaty aromas. “I’m guessing: you had a good time then?” Hannah leant down to kiss John upon his forehead only for her to instantly recoil, wiping away a layer of salty grease from her lips, as she stood back from him in detest. “Fuck’s sake, John.” she spluttered, nauseously. “You couldn’t have just had a couple of pints, could you? You always have to take it that one-step too far.”

John was totally oblivious to anything else going on around him. He had fallen into the deepest of sleeps, lost in a realm where demons and witches reigned-on-high. The setting that John now found himself in, felt remarkably different than before. He was lost again in the marshes, though didn’t feel threatened at all - this time. No fog lingered, nor did any foul smells - strange. John sensed that something yearned for him to turn around, so he did.

“Sabina?” whispered John, with trembling lips, as he glared to the witch stood within their sinking environment. She was in her ‘fair’ form: long brunette hair, silken to the touch, with penetrating amber eyes that suggested a sorrowful soul within. Her dress, white as purest snow, though torn to reveal her plump breasts – something John couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard he tried. “What do you want...with me?”

“Thou body...” replied Sabina, within a set of orgasmic noises. “Thou soul...” The witch then teased her fingertips along her exposed breasts, reaching them down to tear the thin dress even more. She slowly began to reveal her pubic hair to John (to his reluctant pleasure), an act she herself seemed to take no joy from. “I shalt enchant, thee... ”

“No,” responded John in a sharp manner, his head motioning side-to-side. “Leave me alone!” Whispers suddenly echoed around John, which were certainly not from Sabina. They spoke in Latin, with an underlying, deeper and demonic nature ringing throughout them.

“Thou forsaken, wretch!” growled Sabina. “I SHALT enchant, thee!” John felt the ground beneath shudder; its water shifted like there were thousands of small serpents swimming within. As he looked back up from his submerging feet, there was Sabina and in her abhorrent form now. The witch’s eyes had sunk back into an endless void, her skin death-like, her hair mottled and filthy, and dress covered in a murky, watery moss. “Thy sins...haunt thee!”

“Sabina...” gasped John. Panic started to take over him, his breathing erratic and agonizing. “I don’t know...what you have against me – I don’t want to.” The witch unleashed a horrific, blood-curdling cry, only moments before she turned to chase John through the darkening marshes. “Leave me alone!” John sprinted as best he could through the sodden landscape; it felt like his legs were being constantly pulled at by unseen hands. He looked down, only for a split-second, finding to his horror that there were ghastly arms reaching out from the waters below. “FUCK!” John kicked at them as he ran, but this only slowed him down more. “Go to Hell!” Sabina cackled wildly, she was so close to John now. “Help! Anyone! Help me!”

Sabina roared with disdain. This new phantom voice was not of her making, nor her master’s ; it was gentle and thankfully familiar to John – his Grandpa Murray. How John’s grandfather, whom had not spoken a word in months, could commune with him now...painfully tore away at him.

Taunted Sabina’s ‘protector’, their voice filled with malice and hateful in response, more so towards the Lord’s Prayer . The witch quickly gained ground on John, being merely a few feet away from him now, as he sank further into her marsh. Sabina hungrily reached out to grasp her prey, only to be halted once more by Grandpa’s Murray’s soothing performance.

John felt as if he were trapped within a battle between archaic angels and demons. The two phantoms, one malicious, the other benevolent; proceeded to try in out-doing their enemy. All that remained, within the biblical atmosphere, was Sabina and John - their eyes fully locked against one another.

“I’m not scared of you, Sabina.” said John, as he cowered beneath the witch’s baiting presence. “Fuck you...” The witch tilted her head, appearing to show some false pity towards John. She motioned one of her arms slowly into the air, performing a mock-ritual of the Holy Trinity, before unleashing a blinding light that stunned John into a total silence .

“Thou, Heavenly Father...” whispered Sabina, whilst morphing back into her fairer form. John reluctantly opened his eyes to be met with an astounding and real vision. He was knelt inside, what looked to be, an old stone church. The welcome smell of incense and burning candle wax swiftly replaced the humid and putrid stenches encountered within Sabina’s Hellish marshes. The witch herself was also knelt like John, in a praying position, though she was placed just before the church’s altar with a fat, elderly monk stood menacingly in front of her. “Thine body belongs...to thee.”

“Thy sins surround thee, Sabina.” growled the monk, his mouth seemingly foaming with excitement. “Confess thou’st a witch...our Lord shall forgive thee.” Sabina licked at her lips slowly, inducing a small movement to rise inside the monk’s lower robes. “Blessed be thou choice.”

“What the fuck...am I watching?” groaned John, himself feeling strangely aroused by the witch’s provocative motions. “Sabina?” Suddenly, after another blinding flash, John found that he had switched places with the monk. Sabina looked up to her ‘prey’ with wantful eyes and then, carefully, licked at his now-protruding phallus. “What’s going on?”

“Bid me discourse, I shall enchant thou body.” replied Sabina softly, her mouth now filled by John’s tremoring erection. “Thou terrible sins...shall be no more.” John couldn’t help himself. He allowed for Sabina to pleasure him, in only a way his wife should, then in a maelstrom of instant guilt he pushed her away – screaming. “Fuck you! Fuck you, Sabina!”

Another blinding flash followed, after yet another heart-wrenching cry from John’s weary lungs. Only darkness lingered around him now. No light at all permeated, nor did any sounds or fragrance. The air fell icy cold to the point which John could feel his own breath freezing on exhalation. He could sense that someone, or something, was stood behind him. John froze immediately in fear – a sensation of the likes he had never encountered before.

John thought of Hannah and Lucy, his only defence in attempting to defeat the risen malice now lurking behind. “So, you can speak in English?” questioned John, reservedly. “I’m not scared of you – either! I won’t bow down to you or Sabina!” He snapped furiously. “Fuck you, too!”

John still couldn’t turn to face the demon; it was hard enough dealing with Sabina’s evil, let alone another (one that was obviously far-more ancient than her). “What do you and Sabina want from me? What the fuck have you been saying to me in Latin?”

“What happened to Sabina’s child...was horrific - barbaric.” John pitifully attempted to reason with the demon – what else could he do? “But, you can’t punish other innocent people like this, for a crime that was made so long ago. It’s not fair.”

“Grandpa?” John didn’t know how Grandpa Murray was talking to him but he didn’t care, his voice always brought a calm to any storm. The urge to join in with his holy words overpowered any other natural impulse. “Forgive us our trespasses...”

Without warning, John felt an abrupt surge of agonizing electricity pass through his entire body. The malignant presence, which John realized (to his horror), had positioned itself directly before him. John slowly opened his eyes again, held in utter dread and fear for his life, then spoke into the deepening void of darkness. “I’m...not scared!” No demon met against him, only the flashing image of Sabina’s ‘wicked’ form.

“Oh, was it a fun dream you were having?” questioned Hannah, sternly, from the armchair opposite John, as she stared at his bulging jeans. “You better not have had a ‘wet’ one.”

“No chance!” snapped John, both embarrassed and still fearful from his ordeal. “I... had another nightmare.” Hannah’s body language shifted to be more forgiving of her husband. She could see that something had clearly upset John, though didn’t know how to ask him about this – without causing further upset. “It was more vivid than before. I saw the ‘Red Ribbon Witch’ again.”

“She has a name now?” asked Hannah bitterly, almost resentful in her delivery. “I think, it’s time that you went to see a doctor...seriously. You’re starting to freak me out, John.” She shuffled herself beside him, deliberately catching John’s erection to divert his attention away – a strange and ill-received tactic.

“What are you playing at?” winced John, as he cupped his hands over the tender region. “That really hurt!”

“It better be over me and not that witch!” chuckled Hannah to herself, while John was still writhing from the misplaced strike against his groin.

“Look, Han, I’m going to be honest with you.” When John said these words to his wife, it was never a good thing. This statement would usually proceed some sordid confession or pointless tirade. Hannah folded her arms in anticipation of where John’s train of thought was now leading to, struggling to not just walk away from him. “In my nightmare, Sabina was trying to suck me off, but... ”

“You, fucking-what!” roared Hannah. “I’m booking you an appointment with the doctors surgery for this afternoon!” John held out his arms pleadingly, his eyes glistened still from the tears present within them.

“Please, Han. I’ll go to the docs sometime this week – I promise.” said John, himself using a begging tone. “What we need, is a look out somewhere. How about...Whitby?” he shrugged, with a hopeful smile. “You love it there...”

“Fine.” muttered Hannah coldly, in response. “I’m taking Lucy around my Mam’s for tea, when she finishes school. You just chill-out today and get some rest.” She turned away from John knowingly, to hide her sorrowful expression. “We’ll be back for supper, okay?”

“Yeah, no probs, Han.” John’s reply was vacant, his thoughts had unwillingly returned to the horrific vision of Sabina in her malicious form. “I’ll just chill and listen to some music while you’re gone, don’t worry about me.” Hannah sighed heavily and then, without even a kiss goodbye, left John to his own company. “Send my love to Barb and Ivan!” shouted John, as Hannah quickly slammed their kitchen door shut from outside. “Fuck...”

John tried to think of what music he should play, now that he had free-reign of the CD player. However, his mind went completely blank, clouded with the evil words spoken by Sabina’s demonic master. “Howay, John! Pull yourself together – for Hannah and Lucy’s sake!” He then moved into the kitchen to fill up his translucent kettle with fresh water, staring blankly at it as the liquid inside came to boiling point. “I can’t be arsed with this...” John pushed his kettle and empty coffee mug aside, instead choosing to sit upon one of the kitchen stools where he could stare outside into Skipton Road’s dense fog. “Looks like I’m in for an exciting day, then?” A shadow moved within the fog outside, though it certainly wasn’t Hannah. “Now what?” Pondered John, angrily. “I can’t have a minute to myself! ”

“John-boy! Are you in?” It was Sid, but his voice sounded so much clearer and less slurred than before. “John?”

“I’m coming (what does he want?).” John forced afar his frown, quickly replacing it with a fake smile, as he opened the door for Sid’s unwanted entrance. “How are you doing, Sid?”

“Better than you, my boy, by the looks?” said Sid, with a saddened smirk. “You were pretty worse-for-wear, last night. Hangover?”

“I’m...good. Thanks.” replied John, whilst carefully closing the door behind Sid. “Do you fancy a cuppa?”

“That’d be grand, pal. I take black coffee – weak and no sugar! I’m sweet enough.” grinned Sid, manically. “I’ve been off the drink for a few days now – never felt better!” John nodded his head politely in response. Sid must have been lying. “Ever since you’ve moved in, I’ve lost the urge to drink myself into a mess. Maybe, I should be thanking you?” Sid’s grin widened more.

“No need, Sid.” grumbled John. He poured out the strongest coffee possible for his neighbour, regardless of Sid’s personal preference – why should he show such care? “I’m happy for you...” Sid ran his eyes up and down John’s tremoring body, inquisitive to what plight he suffered from.

“Do you suffer from Anxiety or Parkinson’s? You’re shakin’ like a shittin’ dog.” asked Sid, in an abrupt fashion. “You can be honest with me, I suffer from anxiety and depression myself – fucking horrible – it is. What meds are you on?”

“None - yet.” shrugged John, as he struggled to make himself comfortable upon one of the hard kitchen stools. “I’m going to the docs later in the week...gonna have a day out with the girls first.” Sid raised his eyebrows to show his genuine interest in John’s words.

“Oh, Aye. Anywhere nice in particular?” Sid took his first sip from John’s coffee; it was bitter and incredibly difficult for him to swallow. “Fuck me, John. It’s a wee-bit too strong for me this...” he laughed .

“You’re joking?” blared John, without realizing how aggressive his tone had become. “You’ve been living off shit like vodka until only a few days ago (supposedly) – how’s my coffee any worse?”

“Leave it, Sid.” snapped John, although with a humorous undertone. “Me and Hannah are fine – in that department. It’s just...” He hesitated, and then hesitated even more on realizing that he was hesitating – such a vicious circle. “I’m having trouble getting to sleep at night.”

“I see...” said Sid in a gravelly, whispering voice (reminiscent of Sabina’s). “Is the witch plaguing you?” John instantly froze and then rubbed at his eyes, wondering whether if he had misheard Sid at all. “You know, the Red Ribbon Witch ?”

“How do you know about her ?!” gulped John, anxiously. “I must say, like. It’s a huge relief to know, that I’m not losing the plot.” Sid politely sipped again his coffee, despite its horrendous taste. “Seriously, mate.” said John, this time in a friendlier way. “How do you know about...her?”

“I’ve got Romany blood, my lad!” exclaimed Sid, proudly. “I’m a medium on the side, ya know?” He continued with an even wider smirk. However, John was more reserved in feeling any relief from Sid’s apparent ‘confession’. “Do you not believe me...cheeky fucker?” Sid’s eyes flared wildly. “I’m the real, fuckin’, deal!”

“Hey, don’t get me wrong, Sid.” John raised his palms up to suggest an innocent misunderstanding. “I believe you - I do!” John slowed down his breathing, also trying to ease the tension between himself and Sid. “So, have you seen...Sabina?” Sid frantically lifted a finger against John’s lips, his eyes now swarming with fear .

“Fuck me, boy.” Sid whispered. “Don’t say her name out aloud...she can hear ya!” His tone fell into one of utter disbelief at John’s naivety. John was none-the-wiser. “I thought you were meant to be a clever lad? Don’t ever call out a demon’s name!”

“I’m not thick!” countered John, whilst removing Sid’s greasy fingertip away from his mouth. “It’s not like I’ve had to deal with witches and demons before!”

“Oh, cheers, Sid!” whined John, in amongst a set of sorrowful gasps. “It’s been a real pleasure having you around...” John abruptly motioned for Sid to leave, though the ‘supposed’ medium refused to budge a single inch. “Some friend, you are!”

“You need me, John-boy. Only I can help break your curse!” begged Sid, with tears now coursing down his emaciated face. “Don’t you want to know what this ‘curse’ is all about?” John sighed and then submitted himself to Sid’s teachings; there was little else he could do, and the need to know more overwhelmed him greatly. “Shall I tell you about: ‘The Tale of the Red Ribbon Witch ?”

“...Aye.” responded John, his motions and reasoning reluctant, though also consumed by a thirst for further knowledge. “I’d really appreciate if you could, mate.” Sid cracked his knuckles together like a pianist might, before performing some lengthy composition. “Please, Sid. I’m fucking desperate. She’s starting to get to Lucy, too.”

“Oh, she will.” sneered Sid, menacingly “It’s a sad story, John, terrifying...and true. Don’t you be mistaken, my boy.” He leered into John’s face with his murky-grey pupils. “You better have some toilet paper ready, cos you’re going to shit yourself.” Sid laughed randomly, breaking the grown tension for only a split second. “I don’t know the full ins-and-outs, but I can tell you why you’re now a victim of this witch’s curse. ”

“It’s not really a curse, more-so a calling.” Sid shuffled closer into John’s personal space, still reeking of alcohol and stale tobacco. “I held a séance in here with the last tenants, before they kept calling the fucking cops on me...ungrateful bastards.”

“Howay, Sid.” groaned John. “So, what happened?” Sid moved in closer, whispering to John more discreetly.

“They didn’t bless the circle first – big mistake. I told them to, but they wouldn’t listen.” Sid rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Anyway, we started our session. I asked, if there were any spirits surrounding us and if there were, for them to turn the lights on and off...as a way to communicate.” John licked his lips eagerly, dreading what Sid was about to say next. “More than that happened, my boy. The girl who used to live here had her hair pulled, her partner slashed three times across his back! What a fuckin’ state they were in!” He laughed again. “Amateurs...”

“Was it...Sabina?” enquired John, his expression vacant and pathetic. “Sorry, did she harm them?” To John’s further frustration, Sid continued to merely laugh at him. “Howay, Sid! I’m being fucking serious with you here!”

“Was it fuck – the witch!” sniggered Sid, whilst wiping at his face wearily. “She wants revenge. A few scratches and some hair-pulling...just isn’t her style. I know this, because she told me – herself!” He rubbed his hands together hungrily, yearning for John’s reaction. “The witch didn’t attack them; it was her master ...” Sid took a few more sips from his coffee, only to make John’s suffering last a little longer, such was in his sadistic nature. “Don’t ask me to tell you who they are, either. Not without a bail-full of sage and some holy water. ”

“You’re taking the piss, aren’t you?” The agitation in John’s voice increased with each passing word. “I’m asking you for help...and you’re making an idiot out of me!” John tore himself from the stool to lean over Sid, his fists raised in unison to his burning hatred. “You’re nowt but SCUM! GET OUT!”

Sid remained calm – too calm. He downed the remnants of his coffee and then patted at John’s shoulder’s sympathetically. “My lad, I’ll do all I can to end this curse. You...need...to...trust me. I tried to help my last neighbours, they didn’t let me. Now look what’s happened – you’re bearing the brunt!”

“Sorry, mate.” responded John, sheepishly, as he seated himself back upon the uncomfortable stool. “It’s really getting to me.”

“I can see...I can see...” murmured Sid, like a mother would to soothe her child’s woes. “The Red Ribbon Witch got her name from the crimson cloth that adorns a part of her body on each visit – mostly her waist. It is a symbol, a metaphor, of the blood bond she made with her master and followers.”

“Followers?” gasped John. “There’s more like her?” Sid tutted back at this display of impatience.

“No. Not now, at any rate. The witch lived in Newton Escomb during the Middle-Ages; a cruel, dangerous period in our region’s history. The settlement, where the witch and her young daughter lived, was controlled by a group of holy men – they were anything but.” Sid paused, as if lost in his own mournful thoughts. “These holy men decreed: that all women, of child-bearing age, had to sell their bodies for them...to satisfy their ungodly lust.”

“Sick bastards,” replied John, with a nauseous groan. His thoughts intermittently turned back to what the demon had spoken of (regarding Sabina’s daughter). “Fuckin... Paedos. ”

“These were different, fouler, times...that was the norm – back then. The holy men had grown greedy for wealth, selling their women’s bodies and innocence was an easy way to gain power. However, their plan would back fire – big time.” John’s phone suddenly began to vibrate – it was Hannah – but he still ignored it, consumed by Sid’s twisted tale. “Are you not going to take that?” questioned Sid, with a confounded glance towards the shifting phone.

“No. If it’s important...Hannah will text me.” said John, his voice and body now trance-like. “Carry on.”

“Fuck me, you are brave... not answering your wife’s call!” cackled Sid, revealing what few teeth lingered inside his rotten mouth. “The holy men had become bored with their middle-aged whores, most of which had contracted numerous sexual diseases – not good business. One-by-one, the young girls of ancient Newton Escomb were removed from their parents’ possession... each were sold off into prostitution, or slavery. The final straw came, when the witch’s child was taken...” John’s phone rang again. “Just take the fucking call, John.” chuntered Sid. “Don’t leave your woman hanging. I can’t stand the fucking ‘Pogues’.”

“Alright, Han?” asked John, in a panicked and sharp response. He could barely hold his phone steady, something which Hannah could somehow tell. “I’m fine, honestly – stop asking! How’s your mam and dad, anyway?”

“They’re okay, just worried about you.” replied Hannah, sorrowfully “We all are, John. Are you sure about being alone today? I’m not sure, if it’s such a good idea?” John chuckled and then silently rolled his eyes to Sid.

“I’m fine, Han! I’m looking forward to our day out at Whitby...” John fleeted his sight to the calendar positioned opposite. “I’ve got more time off next week, we’ll go on Wednesday, yeah?”

“Aye, that’d be great.” Hannah’s tone seemed a little-more jovial now. Whitby was a town she held so dearly in her heart from being young. “I’ll see you later on, then? ”

“Love you, Han. Bye.” John ended the call there and then. He was desperate to learn more of Sabina’s alleged past, if only to satisfy his need to be recognised as ‘sane’. “She’s a good lass, Hannah, just worries too much about daft things.”

“A diamond in the rough? I don’t need a fuckin’ woman in my life...they’re nowt but a burden.” grunted Sid. It was crystal clear, just how little he regarded the need for holding any affection towards his opposite sex. “I’m my own master...” He sneered, whilst jabbing at his bony ribcage.

“Hannah’s great, I’m lucky to be with her.” John became increasingly defensive, and regretful against allowing Sid into his home so freely. “Carry on with your story, Sid.” An awkward stalemate followed, only broken by the need for something stronger in both men. John looked first to a half-empty bottle of scotch whiskey, itself situated on top of his fridge. Then, just as hungrily, Sid glanced to it. “Fancy a wee dram, Sid?”

“No...I shouldn’t, John.” whimpered Sid. “Fuck me, you’d make a great incubus...with your temptation skills.” The pair laughed together, though forcefully. “Go on, one won’t hurt.” John reached for the bottle and felt some fleeting remorse on opening it. Sid, by this point, had found two clean glasses for the neat whiskey to be poured into. “That’s very kind of you, my boy. Cheers!”

“Carry on with the story, Sid.” commanded John, as both clinked their glasses together. He took in the first mouthful of 45% proof alcohol, choking on its fumes – unlike Sid. “By, I forgot how strong that one is. ”

“It’s beautiful,” gleamed Sid, on his first mouthful. “Now, where was I...” He looked back through the kitchen window, outside. A thick fog had emerged, increasing the horror surrounding Sid’s haunting tale. “Ah, yes! The witch had her child taken from her, so she made a pact with the other women (that remained) in town...for revenge. It should be noted, that the Red Ribbon Witch was once, until her dark pact, a Wiccan. She only used her magic for good, creating potions that healed and other things of the same sort. Anyone who wished to seek vengeance along with the witch, wore a cloth soaked in her blood around one part of their body – a blood pact. Powerful magic...and incredibly evil.” Sid himself became nervous, taking John by surprise. “It was to connect them with her...master . We’re not talking of a dozy fella dressed in red tights and with little red horns, here. The witch’s master is fucking terrifying, John. You don’t need to see ‘It’ to realize they’re around.” Sid frantically stood himself and then poured the rest of his whiskey down John’s sink. “Fuck, I’ve...I’ve said too much. The witch told me this in confidence.”

“No, carry on! Fuck her!” begged John, whilst holding out the whiskey bottle to Sid as a bribe. “I need to no more!”

“I’ve said way too much,” Sid looked upon the empty glass in resentment, wishing to have taken just one more sip. “I’ll be going now, John. Take care...and heed my warning: do not summon the Red Ribbon Witch .” John had no time to reply. Sid left, without uttering another word or granting any further ‘advice’ .

“Why would I want to summon, her?” pondered John. He woefully topped his glass of whiskey up again, then poured some back into its bottle. “That’s it!” he exclaimed, as all dread suddenly seemed to fade away. “I need to cleanse the house...but, how?” John pulled out one of the ‘moving’ boxes from a cupboard beneath the stairs, labelled: Books and DVDs. “Where is it? Where is it?” A line of cold sweat began to draw itself down John’s face; he was desperate, and melancholy soon set in. “Where’s my Bible gone? I know that I’ve packed it in here – somewhere!” Finally, after a few more curse-words, and to his immediate relief, John found a copy of the Bible (King James version).

“Right.” said John, affirmatively to himself. Just holding the small holy book in his hands again, for the first time in many years, wrought with it a cocktail of emotions and deep-seated resentment. John laughed initially at how desperate he had become, at how desperate Sabina had now made him – to turn to such superstitious texts. “She and that demon-thing hated it, when the Lord’s Prayer was spoken.” John carefully moved aside some of the silver-lined pages, licking at each of the corners, as to not tear their thin pulp. “I wonder, if there might be a Psalm or a special passage that could help...why is there no indexes for exorcism?” John chuckled anxiously, hoping to calm his nerves. “Here goes...” The first page John landed upon, was within the book of Job.

“What a great start,” frowned John, as he flicked through a few more pages. “You reap, what you sow? What have I done to deserve this? I’m reading from the Bible, Sabina. Does that piss you off?” A cold surge of electricity swam across John’s arms and neck. He slowly turned towards the stairwell, sensing that a presence was there also – staring right back at him. “How about one this, Sabina ?”

“I can relate to that one!” sighed John. He clasped his holy book shut; lost, as to how it could possibly help him against such a wicked and ethereal malice. “I’ll try something I saw on Ghost Adventures instead, maybe that’ll do it?” John inhaled a painfully extended breath, then released it into the icy air surrounding him. “Spirits! You are not welcome here!” John raised his arms up like a Pastor blessing their congregation of willing listeners. “Leave this home! Be gone! Your evil is not welcome! You are not welcome!” Suddenly, a series of vicious whispers fell into John’s ears and ever-fearful soul. He turned away from the stairwell, towards his living room, though the being only seemed to follow John’s line of sight.

“It’s all in my head...this is ALL...in my head!” Whimpered John, fighting greatly to hold back any tears now forming. The demonic whispers echoed from all sides again their prey, relentless in their tirade and hateful aim. “Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heav--” Without warning, a fairer, more-feminine voice made itself known behind the demon’s...acting just like a translator.

This was too much for John. His body shuddered with the sensation of being drowned, forced into a realm which he had no knowledge of. The whispers finally ceased now, although their impact on John had been truly horrific and paralysing. In wake of his torturer’s absence, John lay helplessly within the living room; his eyes blinded from fear, his ears deafened to all noise other than that of his own racing heartbeat .

“Fuck you...Sabina.” stammered John, against his overwhelming fatigue. “Fuck you...whatever you are!” Nothing replied. Nothing else seemed to exist, other than John’s contrived feeling of death – of utter worthlessness. “Hannah...Lucy...”

Time slipped by John’s conscious self. He remained in his foetal position for another two hours, before Hannah and Lucy eventually returned home. The distinctive sound of metal grinding against metal reverberated through John’s mind. He understood, without any doubt, that this noise was Hannah turning the key in their door. Something had a control over every inch of John’s body - he couldn’t even speak, let alone muster enough strength to move.

“John?” cried out Hannah, her fragile voice suggesting that she was thinking of only the worst scenarios possible. “John! Where are you?”

“I’m...here...” replied John, sounding as if he was being choked. “Hannah! Hannah!” The words barely left his mouth, before disappearing into an inaudible haze. “Hannah...help me!”

“Daddy?” mumbled Lucy, her whole body then froze in fright, as she entered the foreboding atmosphere of John’s living room. “What’s wrong with you, Daddy? Are you poorly?” She started to cry, adding further agony to John’s humiliation and despair. “Mummy! Mummy!” screeched the child. “Daddy’s here! He’s sick!”

“What the Hell?!” gasped Hannah, on being reunited with her small family again. “John! Have you had a stroke, or something?” She reached down to wrap her husband protectively within her arms; this most-selfless action was also supported by Lucy. “Oh, God! I’ll call an ambulance! Lucy, get my phone – quick!”

“No!” strained John, his words now slightly clearer to fathom. “I’m not having...a stroke! Get me out of this room! ”

“Okay...” whimpered Hannah, her eyes fleeting across John through sheer panic. “I can’t lift you, John!” No matter how much strength and wilful force she used, Hannah barely moved John an inch from his incarcerated position. “Shit! I’ll call Mam and Dad!” John shook his head violently in response to this notion.

“No! Don’t tell anyone!” John began to move himself, appearing as if in slow-motion, gradually away from Hannah and his watchful child. “Open...the door! OPEN THE DOOR!” Before Hannah had chance to form any instruction, Lucy intuitively bolted across the room to open its outer door. Mother and child then held on to one another, lost in grief and confused as to what John was suffering from.

“What’s going on, John?” quivered Hannah, in-between some sporadic gasps of terror. “What’s happened? Oh, God! Are you hurt?” John silently dragged his heavy torso across the rugged carpet beneath, aiming for the cold air outside – to him it seemed strangely warm, inviting...a place of solace. “John! Oh, God!” Hannah repeated to herself and Lucy; whether she was attempting to pray, or merely curse in dread, could not be deciphered by neither herself nor John.

“Come on!” screamed John, frantically. He was almost ‘there’. He could feel the sharp blades of grass tear across his exposed forearm, as he finally punched a fist into the sodden earth outside. “Help! Get me out...of this house!” Hannah and Lucy clambered to aid John, neither knowing how to end his current plight – they pushed at him, in total disregard of their doubts. “Almost...I can’t breathe! I can’t...BREATHE!”

“John!” wept Hannah. “If you’re playing a prank on me, this isn’t funny!” She scorned. “What’s gotten into you? ”

“Arghhh!” sighed John aloud in utter relief, whilst allowing for his body to fully sink into the freezing, sludgy mud. “Thank God!” He exhaled like it was his last. “I’m not messing with you, Han.” He gently shook his head, still weakened from his ordeal. “Something...oh, FUCK IT! Sabina got to me – okay?”

“...What?!” Hannah responded with a stern and judgemental glare, also shielding Lucy’s ears with her hands to prevent the child from hearing John’s foul language. “You’re going to the doctors’ surgery tomorrow, John...or I’m leaving you. Don’t you dare think for a moment that I’m not joking.”

“Daddy! My poor, Daddy!” Lucy pushed Hannah aside to lay with John, not caring at all for how her mother would react. “Daddy needs a doctor!” said the child, with an innocent smile. “My poor, Daddy. Stop shouting at him, Mummy!” Lucy wrapped her small arms across John’s shivering chest, hoping that her own warmth would add to his. “Don’t die, Daddy! I love you so much!”

“I’m okay now, sweetheart. Daddy’s not going anywhere...” assured John, with what strength remained. He silently stroked at Lucy’s hair to comfort her; it was still so difficult for him to speak. “Daddy will see his doctor tomorrow, alright?” Lucy nodded back in response, then wiped a tear away from her face. John slowly attempted to stand, though he received little assistance from Hannah – the rift between them now firmly setting in. “Just...give me a sec. I’ll explain everything.” John, to his dismay, slipped upon the greasy soil, landing back firmly beside a huge puddle of filthy, putrid water. “Shit...” John’s eyes fleeted around him, finding everything was a blur again - apart from the murky puddle. “Pull yourself together, John...” A dim light gradually transpired within the murky water; it swam freely, swirling into random spirals, forging into Sabina’s haunting features. “No...NO!” Growled John .

“Get back inside, for God’s sake!” commanded Hannah, as she pulled Lucy and herself into the warmer setting of their home. “People will see you, John!” He didn’t care. Nothing else mattered. All that existed to John, was himself and Sabina’s growing apparition in the water lain before him. “You can sleep on the couch...freak!” shouted Hannah from the living room’s window, after slamming its door shut. “Go and play upstairs, Lucy!” Was all John heard. An eerie silence then ensued, not even the passing breeze seemed to create any faint sound. Sabina’s entrancing features soon began to change into her demonic self and, as they did, a red ribbon appeared around John’s neck in his reflection, tightening itself with each passing breath.

“Sabina...” said John, hypnotised and consumed by the witch’s morphing face. “Leave me and my family alone...please!” He begged.

John clambered back inside. Hannah and Lucy had already gone upstairs, leaving him alone to dwell on his actions. He sat on the sofa for a few moments, stewing over what had just taken place: His failed cleansing. Sabina’s possession over him. His family, regardless of the strong love he felt for them, now seemingly moved to fall apart. John didn’t want to fall asleep. At this moment, John didn’t even want to be alive.