A real exorcism? Carlos del Puente Stories

 "You've got to be kidding," Tom said, his voice crackling over the radio. "A real exorcism? In this day and age?"

"It's not a joke," Father Michael replied, his tone a mix of solemnity and urgency. "The girl's condition... it's beyond medical explanation."

The static on the line grew louder, and Tom could almost feel the unease creeping through it from miles away. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the fatigue of the long drive through the dense, untamed wilderness. "Fine," he conceded, his skepticism palpable. "But what makes you so sure it's the real deal?"

Father Michael took a deep breath before answering. "The animals," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They're acting... strange."

The cabin stood alone, surrounded by a thick wall of trees that seemed to lean inward, as if eager to keep the secrets within from escaping. The air was thick with the scent of pine and the distant calls of unseen creatures. It was a place where the modern world had barely left a footprint, and the wildness of nature felt almost tangible.

The priest stepped out of the car, the gravel crunching beneath his feet as he made his way to the cabin's door. The setting sun cast long shadows that danced around him, hinting at the approaching nightfall. He paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob, and took a moment to compose himself. This was not what he had signed up for when he became a man of the cloth.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, the flickering candles casting eerie shadows across the walls. A young girl lay on a makeshift bed, her body contorted in a way that seemed almost inhuman. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, and a low, guttural growl emanated from her throat.

The family huddled in the corner, their eyes wide with terror. "Father," the mother pleaded, "please, save our daughter."

Tom, the journalist who had been invited to document this supposed exorcism, took a cautious step into the room. He had seen a lot in his career, but nothing had ever prepared him for this. The girl's limbs thrashed, knocking over the chair beside her. A chill ran down his spine.

Father Michael began the rite, his voice steady and authoritative. The girl's body grew more and more agitated as he spoke, and soon the room was filled with the sound of her snarling and the flailing of her limbs. Tom could feel the tension in the air, like a storm about to break.

Then, something changed. The girl's eyes snapped open, and the noise from outside grew suddenly louder. The animals that had been so still during the day were now in a frenzy. It was as if the darkness itself had matured and was now knocking at their door. The priest's words grew stronger, the girl's growls turning to shrieks.

But amidst the chaos, Tom heard something else. It was faint at first, a whisper of a sound, but it grew, and with it, the animals grew more frenzied. It was the voice of the girl, but not as he had heard it before. It was the voice of something else entirely, something malevolent and ancient, speaking through the girl's lips.

The room grew colder, and the air grew thick with an unseen presence. The priest's face was a mask of concentration as he fought to maintain control over the situation. The voice grew louder, filling the cabin, until suddenly, it was all around them, a cacophony of unearthly sounds that seemed to come from every corner of the room.

Tom's heart raced as he realized what was happening. This was no ordinary exorcism. This was something much, much darker. The devil had arrived, and he had brought with him the wild fury of the untamed night.

The girl's body began to convulse violently, her limbs flailing in a way that seemed to defy the laws of physics. Her eyes had turned a deep, bloodshot red, and the veins in her neck bulged as the demonic voice grew in power. The room was a cacophony of snarls, hisses, and the frantic cries of the terrified animals outside.

Father Michael's words grew more urgent, his Latin incantations a battle cry against the encroaching darkness. Yet, the girl's body continued to contort, her back arching so far that it seemed it would snap. The wooden floorboards beneath the bed groaned in protest, and the candles flickered as if in response to the unholy presence.

The air grew colder still, and the candles began to blow out one by one, leaving the room in an eerie twilight. The demon's laughter filled the cabin, echoing through the walls like a twisted symphony. The priest's voice grew hoarse from the strain, sweat beading on his brow as he wielded his crucifix like a weapon.

But then, something unexpected occurred. The demon's laughter turned to a shriek, and the girl's body went still. The animals outside fell silent. The candles flickered back to life, their flames burning brighter than ever before. The priest stepped back, panting heavily, his eyes wide with shock. The girl on the bed looked up at him, her eyes clear and human once more.

"Forgive me, Father," she whispered, "I didn't mean to bring this upon us."

Father Michael stared at her, his hand shaking as he held the crucifix. "What happened?" he managed to ask.

The girl's gaze fell to her trembling hands. "The darkness," she said. "It was... it was so strong. It called to me."

The family rushed to her side, weeping with relief, but Tom couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning. The look in the girl's eyes was haunting, a mix of fear and something else, something wild and untamed. The devil had left his mark, and the true horror of the night was just beginning.

The cabin's walls seemed to pulse with malevolent energy, the shadows shifting and twisting into sinister shapes. The sound of rustling branches and snapping twigs grew closer, and the floor beneath their feet began to vibrate with a thundering rhythm that seemed to come from the very bowels of the earth. The animals outside had gone silent, as if in anticipation of a predator's approach.

The girl sat up, her eyes still clear, but now filled with a strange, feral intensity. She looked around the room, her gaze finally settling on the open window, where the night beckoned with its dark embrace. "They're coming," she whispered, her voice now a chilling blend of innocence and menace.

Father Michael tried to restrain her, but she was stronger than he could have ever imagined. She broke free from his grip, her body moving with an inhuman grace that sent chills down his spine. The window shattered inward, showering the room with shards of glass as a pack of creatures, their eyes gleaming with an unnatural hunger, leaped through the opening. They were not the local fauna Tom had seen before; they were grotesque, twisted versions of them, the very embodiment of the darkness that had been growing within the girl.

The room descended into chaos as the possessed animals attacked, their teeth bared and their eyes gleaming red. The family screamed, fighting for their lives against the unholy intruders. Tom stumbled backward, his camera forgotten on the floor, his eyes wide with terror. The girl was nowhere to be seen, lost in the melee of fur and fangs.

The priest's voice rose in a desperate plea, his prayers turning into a battle cry. He flung holy water into the fray, and where it touched, the animals recoiled, squealing in pain. But for every one he managed to ward off, two more took its place. The air was thick with the smell of fear and the coppery tang of blood.

Tom searched frantically for an exit, his mind racing. This wasn't just an exorcism gone wrong; this was something much larger, a punishment for their intrusion into the ancient pact between the land and the darkness it harbored. The girl's possession had been the catalyst, but the true horror was just now revealing itself.

The cabin walls bulged as if something massive was pressing against them from the outside, and the ground beneath them trembled as if in the throes of an earthquake. The night had come alive, and it was angry.

With a roar that seemed to shake the very fabric of reality, the girl reemerged from the shadows, her eyes now fully black, her form no longer that of a child, but a twisted, monstrous creature. The demon had fully taken hold, and with it, the girl's power had grown. The priest staggered back, his crucifix raised in a desperate bid to keep the creature at bay.

The room was a blur of motion as the exorcism turned into a fight for survival. The animals had become extensions of the demon's will, their movements coordinated and vicious. The family was scattered, each member fighting for their life as the cabin was torn apart around them.

Tom's instincts kicked in, and he grabbed the camera once more, capturing the unspeakable scenes unfolding before him. The girl-turned-monster advanced on the priest, who was now on his knees, his voice hoarse from reciting the rites of exorcism. The air grew colder still, and the shadows grew darker, until it seemed that the very essence of the night was reaching out to claim them all.

The girl's eyes locked onto Tom's, and for a moment, he saw the flicker of the child he had met earlier. A silent plea for help, for salvation, before the darkness swallowed her whole once again. With a scream that seemed to tear the sky apart, the demon launched itself at him.

Tom had no time to react. The world around him turned into a kaleidoscope of teeth, claws, and the overwhelming presence of pure evil. He could feel the darkness seeping into him, trying to claim him as its own. The camera fell from his trembling hands, and everything went black.

The story of the exorcism in the cabin would never be fully told. Only fragments remained, etched into the minds of those who survived, and the shuddering whispers of the trees that bore witness to the horror that unfolded that night. The girl, once a beacon of innocence, had become the vessel for a horror so ancient and profound that it defied the very fabric of their reality.

The demon's howl was the last thing Tom heard before everything went black. When he awoke, the cabin was in ruins, the walls torn apart as if by some giant beast. The only light came from the moon, which shone through the gaps in the wooden planks like a cold, uncaring eye. His camera lay a few feet away, the lens shattered, the film no doubt a twisted mess of light and shadow that would never be seen by human eyes again.

The priest was nowhere to be found, and the family... Tom couldn't bring himself to look. The floor was sticky with blood, the walls spattered with gore that told a story more terrifying than any he had ever written. His heart pounded in his chest as he staggered to his feet, every muscle screaming in protest.

Stepping outside, he was met with an eerie silence. The forest had reclaimed the night, the animals either gone or lying still in the underbrush, too scared to move. The only sound was the distant rush of a river, seemingly untouched by the chaos that had enveloped the cabin. The darkness felt alive, as if it was watching him, waiting for him to make a mistake.

The girl's voice echoed through the trees, a siren's call that beckoned him deeper into the woods. It was a sound that spoke of ancient, primal terrors that lay dormant in the hearts of all men, waiting for the perfect moment to rise again. He knew he had to find her, had to end this nightmare before it consumed them all.

The forest was a maze of shadows and moonlit trees, each one casting eerie, twisted forms that seemed to dance and whisper as he passed. Twice, he thought he saw the girl, her eyes gleaming with malevolent intent, only to realize it was a trick of the light. The demon's influence was everywhere, the very earth beneath his feet seeming to shift and writhe.

The scent of sulfur grew stronger, burning his nostrils as he approached the heart of the darkness. He stumbled upon a clearing where the girl stood, her body now a grotesque amalgamation of human and beast. The demon had fully emerged, and it was more terrifying than anything Tom had ever dared to imagine.

Father Michael lay at her feet, his body broken, his vestments torn, but his spirit unbroken. He looked up at Tom with a fierce determination that seemed to burn through the gloom. "You must finish this," he rasped. "The girl is lost, but you can still save yourself."

Tom knew the priest was right. There was no salvation here, no redemption for the girl who had been consumed by the darkness. He was a journalist, not a warrior of the divine. But as he looked into the priest's eyes, he found a strength he never knew he had. He raised his camera, the last vestige of his former life, and pointed it at the monstrosity before him.

The flash was like a bolt of lightning, illuminating the clearing with a stark white glow that made the demon recoil. It was a futile gesture, he knew, but it was all he had. As the light faded, the creature's form began to shift again, becoming something more terrifying than he could have ever imagined. The girl was gone, lost to the night.

The demon lunged, and Tom fell backward, the camera clattering to the ground. He closed his eyes, waiting for the end. But it never came. Instead, he heard a sound that seemed to shake the very heavens: the roar of a creature more ancient than the devil itself, a force of nature that had been asleep for millennia, now awakened by the disturbance.

The demon screamed in terror, and Tom opened his eyes to see a creature of light and fire, a force of purity that seemed to burn the darkness away. It was the girl, but not the girl he had known. She had become something else, something born of the very essence of the land itself. The animals of the night fell before her, their twisted forms retreating into the shadows from which they had come.

The priest's voice grew stronger, his prayers now a chant that resonated with the power of the girl's transformation. The ground beneath them trembled as the demon recoiled, its power waning in the face of this new adversary. The girl's eyes, once black pools of malevolence, now glowed with an otherworldly light. She had become a weapon in the eternal struggle between the forces of good and evil, a living embodiment of the land's wrath.

Tom stared in awe as the girl moved with a grace that seemed to defy gravity, her every motion a dance of destruction. The demon roared, but it was a sound of fear now, not fury. The air crackled with energy, and the trees themselves seemed to lean in closer, drawn to the battle unfolding before them. The girl's eyes met Tom's, and for a moment, he saw a glimpse of the child she had been, her spirit shining through the fiery visage that now consumed her.

The climax of the exorcism reached a fever pitch as the girl and the demon clashed, the clearing a battleground for the ages. The priest's incantations grew louder, and the light that surrounded the girl grew brighter. The demon shrank back, its form contorting and writhing as if in pain. And then, with a final, deafening roar, the girl's true form emerged, a being of pure, unbridled power that transcended the mortal world.

The demon was vanquished, its hold on the girl broken, but at what cost? The land had claimed her, turning her into a force of nature that could never truly be contained. The family, their fear now replaced with awe, watched as the girl, now a creature of the night, disappeared into the forest, her eyes never leaving Tom's until she was swallowed by the shadows.

Father Michael, weakened but alive, staggered over to Tom. "You must leave this place," he whispered, his voice ragged. "Tell them what happened here. Warn them of the darkness that dwells within the heart of the wild."

Tom nodded, his mind racing with questions that would never be answered. He picked up his camera, the only piece of his former life that remained untouched by the horror of the night. As he made his way back to civilization, the girl's haunting gaze stayed with him, a constant reminder of the price of curiosity and the terrors that awaited those who dared to disturb the ancient pacts of the earth.

The journey back was a blur, the forest seemingly closing in around him, the cries of the animals a mournful symphony of loss and despair. The girl's voice was still in his head, whispering of the punishment that awaited those who sought to conquer the wild. By the time he reached the safety of the city, the story had taken on a life of its own, growing in his mind like a malignant tumor.

He wrote of the exorcism gone wrong, of the priest's bravery and the girl's ultimate sacrifice. But the true tale, the one that lurked in the shadows of his thoughts, was the one of the darkness that had matured and the creature of light that had been born to fight it. It was a story that would be whispered in the corners of bars and shared around campfires, a cautionary tale of the price paid when mankind dared to meddle in the affairs of the divine.

Yet, even as he penned his article, Tom knew that the real story was not the one he was telling. It was the unspoken truth of the girl's fate, the horror of what she had become, and the dreadful understanding that the battle between good and evil was far from over. The darkness was still out there, waiting for the next unfortunate soul to cross its path. And somewhere in the heart of the forest, the girl-turned-avatar of the wild continued her solitary vigil, a sentinel against the creeping night, forever entwined with the very forces that had once threatened to destroy her.

The days turned to weeks, and the story of the exorcism grew into a legend, a whispered tale that sent shivers down the spines of those brave enough to venture into the woods at night. But for Tom, the experience was not so easily forgotten. He was plagued by nightmares, the girl's haunting visage appearing in every shadow and reflection. The voice of the demon, now a constant echo in his mind, whispered of the power that lay dormant within him, a power born of his witness to the unspeakable.

One night, unable to sleep, Tom found himself drawn back to the cabin. It stood as he had left it, a silent sentinel of the terror that had transpired within its walls. The trees around it had grown twisted and gnarled, as if in mourning for the girl they had lost. The air was thick with the scent of sulfur, a reminder of the evil that had once held sway over the land.

As he approached, the shadows grew restless, coalescing into the forms of the animals that had once been the demon's minions. They circled him, their eyes gleaming with malice. Tom knew that the darkness had not been banished entirely; it had merely retreated, biding its time, waiting for the next opportunity to strike.

Inside the cabin, the girl's presence was palpable. Her voice, now a part of him, whispered of the ancient pacts that had been broken, of the punishment that awaited those who dared to disturb the balance of the wild. He knew that he had been changed by that night, forever linked to the primal forces that had been unleashed.

With trembling hands, Tom picked up the shattered pieces of his camera, a symbol of the reality he had once tried to capture. He realized now that some truths were better left unseen, that the world was not as simple as the words he wrote on a page. The real story was the one that lived in the shadows of his soul, a tale of darkness and redemption that he would carry with him for the rest of his days.

The journey back to the city was fraught with danger, the animals of the night seemingly aware of the darkness that now dwelt within him. Yet, he felt a strange kinship with them, a bond forged in the fire of that fateful exorcism. He was no longer just a man, but a part of the very fabric of the land itself.

Upon his return, Tom's article was met with skepticism and disbelief. The world was not ready for the truth he had glimpsed, and so he held his tongue, allowing the legend to grow. But in the quiet moments, when the city lights could not drown out the whispers of the wild, he knew that the real story was still out there, waiting to be told. And he feared that one day, the darkness would mature once more, and the girl would be called upon to face it again.

By Carlos del Puente relatos