Willi stays the night
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[A Note to the reader. This is a horror story written from a Christian perspective. A Christian ‘world view’ is present in the protagonist. If you are offended by characters who are truly dedicated Christians this is not the story for you. However, Christian or not, if you like horror stories you might like this one.]
The Story.
My name is John Murphy. I have a strange tale to tell you. You won’t believe it, and I don’t expect you to. It is my understanding that several other sources will be added to my record. Being only one person I can’t have seen all the events, but my friends will fill in the gaps. Here is what happened last fall.
Chapter One, The Awakening
Saturday, 1 November
The first thing I remembered was the damp earthy smell around me. It wasn’t unpleasant, just the strong clean odor of dark rich soil.. It was early morning and the faint brightness of the early morning sun, filtered through clouds, was the only light to be had. About this time I realized that I was lying down. I apparently had somehow fallen asleep in a thin part of a small wood. That confused me. I was having a bit of difficulty concentrating. I had a bit of a headache and that groggy feeling that one has after a good deep sleep. I decided to get up. As I started to get up I felt a branch brush against my bare chest. It was then that I realized that I had no shirt on. I was laying on top of my shirt and jacket. I felt a bit numb so I struggled to get my damp shirt and jacket on. That is when I first noticed that all things were not right. I saw the blood on my clothes. Thick dried brown stains and dried heavy clots of blood. I looked like I had all but taken a bath in blood and then been set out to dry for many hours. Man, was I a mess. I started to do a quick survey of my body to determine if I had sustained any injuries. It didn’t take long to determine that there was a massive cut in my chest and that I had no pulse.
I struggled to get into my shirt and jacket, as if that mattered at the moment. It’s funny how habits stick with you. Why should a corpse have to worry about modesty?
Do you know how hard it is to accept a clear truth when it runs against what you believe? I looked more carefully at my hands. They were a greyish white. I checked my pulse again hoping that I had been wrong the first time, there was no pulse! This can’t happen! It might be fine in old horror stories, but this is the twenty-first century. Things like this violate all the physical laws that we know. As a trained high school science teacher I knew that it was a scientific fact that I was a dead man. But I was still functioning! How could this happen? I could be hallucinating, I could be dreaming, I could be ……….what? If this were a dream, it was a dream in full color with smells, sounds, and feeling. This didn’t feel like a dream. How about hallucination? I didn’t feel feverish, as a matter of fact my body temperature seemed to be about the same as the surrounding air. This made no sense unless I was dead. But how could I be dead as well as conscious and mobile? Clear logic said that I had obviously been attacked and killed. But clear logic also said that dead bodies tend to be very, very immobile and totally unaware.
In the process of assessing what damage I might have sustained I had noticed that my boot heels and the back of my boots were caked with mud. That was unusual since the bottoms and tops of the boots appeared to be no dirtier than usual. I wondered where the mud could have come from.
I started to take stock in my surroundings. Having spent two hitches in the Navy Seals I was quite good at reading tracks. I first examined the place where my body had been left. Under the leaves that had covered me I found a large, knife with a blade that curved like a sickle. The blade was black and the handle was made of bone. The bone had been carved so that the hilt of the blade looked like a goat’s hoof. On one side of the handle was a five sided star with the fifth, and longer, point aimed away from the blade. On the other side of the handle was carved a ‘face on’ view of a very stylized goat’s head. This knife was no hunting knife and it was caked with blood. I had never seen this particular knife before, but remembered seeing a picture of one like it. But, where had I seen it? I looked around. A small clearing was next to where I had been laying. I could clearly see the tracks of two people walking in dragging someone. Only two sets of tracks left the site.. From seeing the drag marks of what looked like the heels of a pair of boots I now understood why my boots were so scraped up on the heel.. The heel of my left boot had a distinctive mark. It was a standard issue military boot. But, my left boot had a deep vertical score mark across the very back of one heel. It left a distinct mark in the soil. These drag marks showed the presence of that score mark and were between the two sets of footprints that came into the clearing. My skill in hunting told me what had to have happened. Two people had dragged me, into the woods and only they had walked out. My heel tracks stopped at the pile of brush and leaves. Their tracks showed much walking around but in a funny pattern. Then the tracks walked back out toward where the road should be. There were faint traces of blood on their boot marks and on the trail that they made away from this spot, but the tracks coming to this spot showed no signs of blood.
I started to look around more carefully. Was there some clue that would help me understand what was going on? It was only at this point that I noticed some other strange things about the clearing. In the center of the clearing was the remains of a fire. This, in itself, wasn’t strange. However, the setting was strange. It had five black stones placed about six feet from the center of the fire pit and a ring of small stones around the fire pit itself. There was an indication that there had been blood spilled over each of the five stones and in the area of the fire pit. The ground had been cleared a bit and someone had done some scraping on the ground and then used their boots to try to erase the marks. At this point none of this made any sense to me. There was something else that didn’t make sense. The fire pit had a funny residue in it as well as what appeared to be a metal deposit. On closer examination I saw that the metal looked and felt like silver. It was as if someone had taken a crucible of molten silver and poured it into the fire. I took a few large leaves and gathered some of the strange residue and a couple of pieces of yet unburned wood. I took the lighter out of my jacket pocket and held the flame under the yellow residue. It was Sulfur as I had suspected.
I needed to think. Did Divine Providence have a reason for me to be a walking, thinking corpse? Was there a purpose for this? Why had I been cut the way I had?
It was only at this point that I began to put together the pieces of the puzzle. From my reading of history and good horror stories I remembered the purported rituals of those who worked with black magic. Blood, sulfur, and five sided stars, or pentagrams, were all part of most of the accounts. The evidence suggested that the clearing had been used for some evil sacrament. I know that this sounded silly to me, but it was the only answer that fit the evidence that was currently available.
There was something else. I had the feeling that this answer also was the clue to who was involved. As I had said, I taught in the local high school. I knew that there was a small group of boys and girls that I had heard were very interested in witchcraft. The boys in that group were not members of the scout troop I led, but were active in sports. I didn’t know, as fact, all the members of the group, but I had a pretty good idea who the chief ones were. The leaders were from two of the richest families in the area. If I had to characterize those families I would have to c
all them amoral. They didn’t seem to recognize any of society’s rules at all. The two families were both well to do and their two family businesses worked together whenever possible. They never did anything that could be proved to be illegal, no one could prove that they cheated customers or the government tax agencies. But, their businesses gave a discount for cash, and rumor had it that they provided a better price if a receipt wasn’t required.
These two families were the Marshyls and the Pryces. No one had ever proved that they were doing anything illegal, but there is no question that their businesses have raised more than a few eyebrows.
I snapped back to the situation at hand. What should I do next. I needed guidance from Someone who had a complete knowledge of what had happened and who knew why I was in this strange, unbelievable state. I turned to God and asked Him for guidance.
At some point after praying a strange thought came to mind. That knife that was left under that pile of branches was too good a knife to throw away. Perhaps they had lost it. In that case they might come back to find it. I needed to built a blind cover from which I could watch the clearing without being seen by anyone but an exceptionally good tracker. My skill from the Seals was going to come in handy.
I put some extra forest litter in the spot where my body had been placed and tried to make it look like I thought it probably looked before I arose. Then I used a leafy branch to carefully smudge all the tracks that I had made in the clearing. The next question was where to make the blind. The answer was the remains of an old low stone wall. It was in a sorry state of disrepair and the ground over which it was built was uneven. I found a shallow depression on the side of the wall away from the clearing. The ‘frost heave’ of many winters had worked some of the stones loose so that there was a small opening between some of the rocks that formed the base of the stone wall. It didn’t take long to arrange a pile of leaves and fallen branches so that the shallow depression looked like the level forest litter strewn ground. From my depressed shelter I had a clear view of the clearing. Now I waited.
It would have been nice to say that the people who killed me showed up right away. But they didn’t. I had started waiting for them at about ten in the morning, At what I believed to be about six or seven in the evening I finally heard the sounds of approaching feet. I am sure that they considered their movement stealthy, but it was obvious that they had no idea about how to move stealthily. They stepped on old twigs that snapped. They sometimes didn’t lift their feet enough when they walked through leaf debris, so that the leaves made a rustling sound.. They were talking with each other, and occasionally laughing. Their idea of quiet would have gotten them killed by any half way knowledgeable adversary. And worst of all, they were smoking and using a flashlight to watch the path for their footing! Anyone who knows the woods knows that tobacco smoke is identifiable in very small amounts and at relatively significant distances. This is especially true when the wind is blowing from their backs carrying the scent ahead of them like a warning signal to any who are interested in smelling the air. A bright flashlight is a giveaway that anyone would be able to spot. These people had very little wood craft.
Into the clearing came two people. I was surprised to see that one of them was a girl. She was large for a girl, but not exceptionally large. I recognized her as one of the track and field girls, a senior. The boy was the captain of the football team and also a senior. His name was David Pryce. He was the only child in the Pryce family. The girl was Sue Marshyl, the youngest child in that family. They went right to the spot where my body had been left and started to move aside the branches and leaves. They might have been trying to be quiet before, but the scream from Sue would have waked the dead. (I silently chuckled at that comment. After all I was already awake.) They started frantically pulling branches off until they were down to the bare ground. They had a look of abject horror on their faces. All they could seem to say was ‘it’s gone’ and ‘who could have taken the body?’. By this time night had arrived. They started to look further away from the clearing to see if there were any tracks that might tell them something. Their walk took them away from where their vehicle had to be parked. As soon as they were about fifty yards away I stealthily moved from my blind and quietly worked my way along the old stone wall and then made a path roughly parallel with the path that they had taken into the clearing. I knew how to move quietly in the brush.. It wasn’t long before I saw their SUV. It had a fair amount of junk in the back most area of the cab. It was obvious that the junk had been there for a long time. There were a couple of old tarps, a blanket, air mattress and pillow. I fit nicely underneath the junk, and since I didn’t need to breathe I didn’t make a sound. You could say that I was as silent as the grave, pun intended.
It was about an hour later that I heard them climb into the cab of the SUV. They weren’t saying much. I heard the engine start and they drove out onto the highway and back toward town. I wasn’t sure where they would go, but wherever it was it should be closer to my old house than I was at the moment. They finally stopped the SUV and got out. I waited for half an hour or so before trying to take a look at where we had stopped. It was next to the garage behind the Pryce house. It was dark, and I knew exactly where I was. I quietly exited the SUV after making sure that the dome light wouldn’t come on when I opened the door. Then I was gone.
My house was about three miles from where the SUV was parked. On the way there I avoided being seen. I kept a spare house key hidden in my back yard. It was hidden almost in plain sight. I had posted signs up around the property and one of the signs had a third nail on the top edge. The nail wasn’t truly nailed into the tree, it slid into a drilled hole. The nail passed through the hole in the house key which was directly behind the sign. It took me two minutes to get the key and quietly enter my house.
I turned on no lights. I quietly filled the dishes for my pets and dug out my night vision gear. This was standard issue military equipment, not cheap commercial knock offs. I then did the thing that I had most needed to do. I called a friend on his cell phone, using my cell phone.
After several rings a voice came on the line.
‘Hello, this is pastor Jennings.’
‘Hi Paul, this is John, I need to talk to you very badly and with complete confidentiality. Can we arrange that?’
‘Hi John, I missed you last night. You were going to tell me what the Elders had to say about the candidates for membership in the Church. Where were you? Is everything o.k.’
‘I can explain that later Paul. Things are not o.k. I need you to quietly and very discretely come over to my house and come in the back door. Do not turn on any lights. In fact, I remember that you had been a green beret, use your old skills as you come over. In case you are seen you might even want to come armed. You can’t be seen, for your own sake.’
‘O.k. John, I can be there in half an hour. Is there anything that I need to bring?’
‘Yes Paul, be praying on your way over for the Lord’s covering and protection. Paul, you were in Nam. You have seen things for real that civilians haven’t seen in their worst nightmares. Be prepared for a shock.’
‘John, how much of a shock should I expect?’
‘Well, you might consider the effect that the Resurrection had on the first disciples.’
His voice took on a grim businesslike tone, ‘I’ll be there John.’
The line went dead. Paul and I had been through the same hell during our tours in Nam. Paul was made of good stuff. He’d handle it. Not having the lights o
n was important. If those who got to me thought someone else was on to their actions, that person’s life wouldn’t be worth a canceled postage stamp.
It was about twenty minutes later that the back door opened a crack and pastor Paul slithered in. I say slithered because he was flat on the floor and made no more noise moving than a snake. He had his old 1911 Colt automatic in his hand. He had taken my warnings to heart.
I very quietly whispered, ‘I’m here Paul’. He moved over to where I was sitting on the floor.
‘What’s going on?’, he said.
‘Paul, I need help. My theology isn’t up to handling the present facts. I need you to promise me that you will keep your mouth shut and make no noise while you determine the problem at hand. Can you do that?’
‘I’ll try John. What do you want me to do.?’
‘As an opener, come over here and take my pulse.’
Paul moved quietly over and placed two fingers on my carotid artery. It was only a moment later that he said:
‘What’s going on, is this some kind of trick? I can’t find a pulse, and you are very cold. What’s happening’
‘Put your hand just below the sternum on my chest Paul’
Paul moved to place a hand on my chest near the diaphragm. He withdrew his hand as if he had touched a poisonous snake.
‘John, that should be a fatal wound.. What in God’s name is going on?’
So, I told him the entire story.
‘Paul, I stopped believing in supernatural horror stories a long time ago. How can I be functioning and be dead? How can I be damaged this badly and not be in total agony? Does the Bible say anything about a case like this?’
Paul sat there in the dark for several minutes. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of the pendulum clock down the hall in my living room. He finally broke the silence.
‘In a way it does, John. Do you remember the bad prophet Balam? He was riding on his donkey to go somewhere that God didn’t want him to go and God spoke to him through his donkey. Donkeys don’t talk, obviously, but that one did because God had a reason for him to speak. The donkey was a tool in God’s hand. Do you remember Belshazzar’s feast, a hand appeared and wrote letters on a wall. The hand wasn’t connected to a visible arm. That hand was a tool in God’s hand. Remember that the Lord Himself said that if the crowds didn’t shout hosannah that the very rocks would cry out. Those stones would have been tools in God’s hand. Of course you remember the resurrection. A body dead for three days was brought back to life. I don’t know what the Lord has in mind, but you are here and moving for a definite reason. God is going to use you as a tool, I don’t know how, but that is what it has to be. Let’s pray about it and seek the Lord’s guidance.’
All I could say was, ‘Thanks pastor.’
‘Heavenly Father, you are so far bigger and beyond anything that we can imagine. You do things that no man can understand. We ask your guidance. John is obviously dead, by human standards, but alive by Your Will. We don’t know what you would have John do. Lord please provide John the guidance that he needs. He wants to do your will in your way. Lead him and then bring him to the rest that you have for him. For we ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen.’
‘Thanks pastor. I apologize for the shock that I have given you. I know that I cannot use any method to find out what has happened that runs contrary to the Lord’s teaching. It is God, probably through the police that must settle this matter. Maybe I’m to find a way to break loose some needed information. I just don’t know much at this point in time.’
‘John, I hate to remind you of this, but when Pharaoh’s magicians and priests were working against Moses, up to a certain point they were able to use real magic, demonic magic, against him. You may well find that you are up against real powers and authorities that will seek to do you harm. . Last night I heard a story from reliable people about being confronted with a daemon. Watch yourself.
Jeannie
- 15.10.2022
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