It’s hard to believe that only a year has passed since I left the orphanage and entered this world on my own. The first couple of weeks were scary, I won’t lie there were times when I wished I could go back to the sisters or that I had some place I could call home. In those weeks it was all too easy to give up, I could have just crawled into some alley, gave myself to sleep, and never woke up; I’m sure there were many of my former companions from the orphanage who did that very thing. Nothing about that place had prepared us for this reality. I mean we knew it wouldn’t be easy, we knew there were nasty and vile people out here, but even knowing all of that didn’t make the transition easy to handle. To make matters worse, I was passing through a big city about a month after leaving and I happened to hear a story on the television display. A teenage boy’s body had been found in the river, his throat had been cut so savagely that it had all but decapitated him. His abdomen was also sliced, which let his guts spill out for the fish to feed on. At the end of the report they described what investigators assumed the boy had once looked like. I knew it was Jeshu; there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he had been punished for losing the gun. At least this time there was no one else around who could blame me for his death, just me and I was doing plenty of blaming. That night I dreamed of him. He was with the glowing dream person, telling me he knew I had taken the gun and that he forgave me, that his death had been a blessing and the spirit realm was better than anything he could have ever found in this world. I woke up feeling sick. I wasn’t sorry anymore, I was jealous. Jeshu had been working with criminals for years, he’d been selling drugs to kids younger than we were; yet because I stole his gun and his bosses punished him with murder, he gets to be all happy and content living in his new spirit realm home. It didn’t quite seem fair to me, but I had no real moral compass to judge it by.
Jeshu came to me a few more times in dreams, mainly telling me about some choice I would soon have to make, and trying to persuade me to choose the light over the dark. I didn’t listen to him, I was still jealous that he was happy and I was stuck working a crap office job and living in a crap apartment where there were enough roaches that they should start chipping in on the rent every month. I should have listened to him more closely, if I had, I might not have been quite so blind sighted when the day finally came. The day in question came a few months ago, my eighteenth birthday to be exact. Ever since I was six I hadn’t had a semi normal birthday, I hoped this one would be different. I was invited out to dinner with a couple girls from work, other underpaid overworked secretary types. We had a nice time; we laughed about what pigs our bosses were, lamented over the states of our dismal love lives, and discussed our hopes that the future held good things for us. It was a nice night, I felt like a normal person for the first time in twelve years, and I have to admit that I liked it. Then I went home and everything changed.
I changed out of my work clothes and got ready for bed like any other night. There were no hints beforehand that tonight was anything out of the ordinary. I fell asleep easily enough, no haunting memories or guilty feelings to stall the peace of sleep. Then the dream began. I have no clue how long I’d been asleep or even how long the coming encounter lasted, all I know is that one moment I was falling asleep and the next I was stuck in what I could only hope was a nightmare. The dream people were there, even that wasn’t anything new, they were always there. This time they were talking directly to me, telling me it was time for me to choose, saying they would help me complete the ritual. I had no idea what they were talking about. I didn’t know what choice I had to make and I’d never known anything about any sort of ritual. I was lost, and when I said as much in the dream, both beings laughed at me. The glowing one took pity on me and began to explain. Evidently I was somewhat special as the sisters had said. I was supposedly a vessel prepared for a spirit being to inhabit. The choice would be which spirit being I wanted to allow into my body. I had gone from being lost to being on information overload. I’d seen these two beings in my dreams as long as I could remember; it was like they were my personal angel and demon, walking through life in my mind rather than my shoulders.
The dark one was growing agitated the more the light one spoke. He, I call it a he because there is really no way to tell what it is but darkness seems more masculine to me than glowing light, kept cutting off the glowing one with impatient snips. He claimed it was time to start the ritual or they would lose their window. The glowing one agreed finally and began to draw strange symbols on the walls of my bedroom. By this point I couldn’t tell if I was still asleep or if I had woken up at some point, I felt awake but I was still stuck in this surreal situation so I had no way to know for sure. While the glowing one was doing that, the dark one perched himself on the edge of my bed. He spoke softly, though the grate of his voice was as harsh as if he’d been screaming in my face and his breath reeked of smoke and sulfur. He told me that the stigmata were a product of my being a vessel, that the glowing one’s boss had chosen them to mark me as one of these individuals. He then promised that if I chose the spirit he called, the wounds would stop appearing for good, but if I chose the glowing one’s spirit they would continue and grow worse anytime I did anything unsavory. I wasn’t too keen on the idea of giving my body to a dark spirit, but given the fact that I live in a slum and had caused at least one death, I figured the stigmata would kill me if a good spirit were able to report back all that I had done. I still wasn’t sure I could let a dark spirit inhabit my body. I wasn’t a bad person; at least I didn’t think I was. I worked an honest job, paid my bills on time, and kept to myself while trying to lead a quiet life. If I invited something evil into myself, how would that affect my soul? In my mind, I was not worthy of a good spirit so my only real choice was the dark one, plus I couldn’t pass up the chance to be free of the injuries once and for all.
Until this point I had been underneath my sheet, my naked body hidden well enough to avoid embarrassment, but once the glowing spirit had completed her task, the dark one ripped the sheet away and bound my limbs to the corners of my bed. While I was still half thinking this was a dream, the cool air on my nude form and the rough restraints cutting into my flesh felt all too real. Candles appeared on every flat surface in my small bedroom, the flickering of their flames replacing all other sources of light. Symbols, candles, nudity, and bondage… this was starting to look more like some Dionysian festival than a spirit merger… plus it was feeling less and less like a dream with each passing moment. When the glowing entity saw my position, she gasped and shot a scornful look to the dark one. She began to protest that I had no made the decision yet so the restraints weren’t necessary, but the dark one just grinned and turned to me. He instructed me to tell the light one what I had decided. I couldn’t speak; I couldn’t force myself to invite the dark, to renounce all that is holy, to give up my eternal soul so that I might be free from mysterious injuries. The dark one leaned closer, his smoke and sulfur breath washing over my face, clogging my senses and bringing the bile up from my stomach. He asked me if I wanted the wounds to stop. I choked out an affirmative answer. He asked me if I deserved the holy spirit, I shook my head no as tears slipped from my burning eyes. I could see the haze of red blurring the corners of my vision, I was crying tears of blood, this had to stop, I couldn’t deal with the stigmata any more. I cried out to the dark one, pleading for him to take away the wounds, to free me from them. And my fate was sealed. The glowing being came to the side of my bed and placed a cool hand on my face. She told me that she would pray for my soul and then she was gone. I knew I had just made the biggest mistake of my life, it was too late to recant, I was stuck with this fate whatever it may be. The dark one laughed again and then he moved fully onto my bed. Lifting his black robe revealed a pair of grotesque legs, legs belonging to a goat or some other barnyard animal. He swung one sparsely furred limb over my slender body and suddenly I knew his intention was to mount me. The first one to enter my body was going to be this demonic being; I was going to be raped into the legion of the damned.
I don’t know how long the act itself lasted, I was only conscious for the beginning. As he shoved his hellish appendage into me my world was torn apart at the seams. I could feel his flesh burning my tender, previously untouched insides. He was searing the sensitive tissues, deadening the nerves as he rutted. I prayed for death, prayed that the blood I could feel escaping would be enough to stop my pounding heart. His voice echoed in my ears, his calling to the spirit, inviting it into me. The last thing I heard was him enticing the spirit, telling it that I would make the perfect host. When the sweet darkness came, I welcomed it with open arms thinking it was the answer to my prayers. When I woke to the sound of my alarm the next morning I thought it had all been a dream, a figment of my vivid imagination. Then I moved one leg and the pain told me I was wrong. The symbols were still on my walls, in the same charcoal they had been written with. I was no longer tied to my bed but there were angry welts on each wrist and ankle to prove they too had been real. The candles were gone, but the wax drippings remained. As if nothing so far had proven the events had been true, the large pool of maiden head blood staining my sheets cemented the reality for me. Every move of my legs shot pain through my core; somehow it was worse than all the pain of the mysterious wounds had ever been. Maybe because it wasn’t just physical pain, not only had my body been broken beneath that demon, my spirit had been shattered and ripped away as well. All to make room for the spirit he had invited into me. Forcing my legs to carry me to the bathroom, I curled up at the bottom of the shower. I lay there letting the scalding water rain down on my body, trying in vain to wash away the previous night. I knew it would do no good, from the moment I had cried out to him I would be forevermore unclean.
2114, Seer Possession
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