The Innocent Life of Valerie Vale

Possession

Possession

Zeke entered his chamber. Darkness consumed the room, which itself was rather small and smelled of exotic smoke. The altar had already been prepared, with idols and bone laid out upon the table. There were skulls and stone, crow feathers and chicken feet, crosses and candles and the effigy to complete. In the centre was a piece of cloth, stained with demon blood. It would be enough.

The wall was engraved with faces and shapes, lines cut out by a blunt knife. They were symbols of visualised emotion and satanic desire. Hatred and dread, intoxication and greed, dark salvation, and revolting, acidic revenge. Hidden by darkness, revealed through candlelight, the wall vanished and appeared in a glowing sense of horrific beauty and disdained pain.

The room was silent but for the chicken that trembled in trepidation. Locked in its metal cage and left to one side, it could barely move as it rattled against the thin steel bars of its lonesome prison. The bird was anxious, fearful even of what was to come. A ceramic pot sat upon the floor, burning herbs, spices and drugs, while cooking the assortment of animal meats that lay within. The smoke that filled the air was disgusting and foul, yet strangely addictive, destructive to the body and to the soul.

Zeke was a sight to behold. The boker stood almost naked in the centre of the room. He held a long wooden stick and wore dirty rags below his waist. His body was partially covered by a white powdered paint and a chain of broken bones hung from his neck. Bands of feathers wrapped around his arms and legs and his deadlocks swung freely from his head. In his other hand he held a knife – a sharp but rusty old thing he used for occasions such as this... rituals, murders, curses.

Zeke sat down upon the floor and lowered his head to the ground. He was silent for a moment, transfixed in meditation, focused on clearing his mind, preparing for inhabitation. Suddenly he began to mumble. His eyes were closed but his mouth opened as strange noises emerged from between his lips. There were no words, just feelings and emotions, sounds that were foreign to the world of mortal men. Altogether it was a sickening tune of worship and praise.

With that, an energy began to flow through his body. It started in his heart. It ran down his legs and up through his arms. His neck burned and his muscles ached from deep within. He felt compelled to stand. He grabbed hold of the chicken cage and opened it aggressively as he dropped his stick. He seized the bird by its neck and gripped its throat fiercely as he chocked it without mercy. The bird clawed at his arm, drawing blood from his wrist, but Zeke was too powerful. It didn’t stand a chance.

‘Me spirits,’ Zeke said at last, ‘take this as me offering, feel its life enrich yars, feed upon it and cam to me now.’ His voice was cold and clear. He took hold of the knife using his free hand and cut into the chicken’s throat as it squealed and squawked in pain and anguish. Zeke held it up above his head and let its blood gush down through his hair, dripping across his face and drenching him in a sick red. ‘Me spirits... me calls ya to enter me heart,’ he continued, ‘fill me with yar presence, take me soul and change me ta do yar will.’

As the chicken faded away into its death, Zeke threw its bloodied carcass to the ground. He moved his attention to the burning pot and with one great gulp of toxic air he filled his lungs with flavoured smoke. ‘Shape me, twist me, bind me,’ he chanted, ‘I call on ya, Bakulu Baka, I call on ya ta be with me now.’ Zeke reached his hand down into the smoking pot and pulled from inside a piece of meat, mixed with herbs and burning ash. The heat shot pins of searing pain up through his arm but by now Zeke’s possession had already begun. Now there was no turning back.

Zeke filled his mouth and tore into the meat like a vicious dog. The taste was disgusting as he swallowed it down. The ash felt like satin had crawled into his mouth and was desperately trying to rip his soul from inside his chest – a devil’s hand reaching down through his throat, grasping for any shred of humanity it could find. ‘Bakulu Baka,’ he chanted again, ‘me body is yars, take me, Bakulu Baka.’

Suddenly he began to shake. His whole body vibrated as he lost control of his senses. His movements became violent. His arms and legs twisted as the spirit of Bakulu Baka seized control of his body. The boker coughed out a cloud of black smoke. It was a ghastly sight, a concoction of bewitched torment and twisted desolation. He took hold of his knife and slashed into his wrist. There was no scream, but as blood poured down from his arm he wiped it across his painted face. Zeke became rigid and gripped the knife tighter than before. ‘I see ya,’ he shouted as he gazed at the altar, but it was not him. Zeke had reached the threshold. He was powerless to control the forest spirit, to define its will or shape its madness. The beast had been unchained. Bakulu Baka had been unleashed.

‘I see ya,’ he shouted again, ‘demon of the night, soulless creature of the devil.’ Zeke grabbed hold of the stained cloth that lay upon the altar and wiped it across his bloodied face. ‘Alexander,’ he shouted, ‘yar blood will dry, yar eyes will burn, yar heart will descend into dirt.’ Zeke slammed the cloth down onto the altar and as he continued to shake he stabbed down into it with his knife. ‘Yar neck Alexander... will be slit, yar tongue cut and yar bones crushed!’ He screamed and moaned, mumbling in tongues and lamenting in satanic pain.

Suddenly Zeke dropped the knife and coughed out again as a second cloud of black smoke escaped his rotting mouth. He fell to the ground, shaking and trembling against the floor. He screamed out in horror and continued to shake. He moaned as his body slowly returned to his control and cried out in fear of the act of sin he had just committed. Tears streamed down his face. He felt warped to his very core but the deed had been done. Their enemy had been cursed.

In the corner of the room, two eyes watched from the shadows. Silver glistened in the silent darkness but there came no movement of interference. There was terror and there was pride. There was a smile, so very wide. As Zeke lay down on the floor the wolf was waiting by the door. An attack would be made on his enemies reign. That was the will of the monster Caine.

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