๋ก๊ทธ์ธ๊ณต์
Fifteen
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2021-09-06 16:19:00
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Devourer of Soulsย ย ย Coda
CODAThe welcome sign for Tahawus is up ahead on the right. A glance at the dashboard clock on my JEEP shows that, indeed, it is only about forty minutes away from Clifton Heights. I find that hard to believe. It feels like weโve been driving for hours. Of course, Iโve learned in my few years in the Adirondacks that the back roads feel endless, surrounded on both sides by thick, seemingly impenetrable stands of Adirondack pine. A thirty minute drive to Old Forge feels like an hour and half, most days.As I slow for the turn-off, I glance at Father Ward in the passenger seat. He sits with Nate Slocumโs journal in his lap, staring out the window. Heโs been quiet for most the trip. I donโt blame him. His encounter with Stuart Michael Evans sounded harrowing. Of course, heโs now telling himself that clicking sound from Stuart fleeing the confessional booth mustโve been his walker, and not . . . something else. That Stuart had suffered some sort of hysterical break instead of . . .Chang
Devourer of Soulsย ย ย Twenty-Three
TWENTY-THREENowFortunately not everyone in town was at church that night. A scattered fewโthose devoted non-attendees our faithful little town toleratedโhad of course been at home. Some of them were volunteer firemen. They were the ones who found me in the basement the next morning.โSomehow I didnโt break my neck falling down those stairs. The heat and the smoke of course rose and enough of the floor held and didnโt collapse on me. I ended up spending only a week over at Clifton Heights General for mild injuries and smoke inhalation. I did, however, suffer ligament damage in my knees and ankles from the fall, exacerbated because of my CP. For several weeks I got around first in a wheel chair, then with a walker.โI sat back in the confessional booth, speechless, deeply concerned for the poor manโs soul, wondering about his sanity . . .Except.I distinctly remembered the burning of Tahawus Methodist Church, the summer after my senior year in high school. My father had helped o
Devourer of Soulsย ย ย Twenty-Two
TWENTY-TWOEver see the movie Backdraft, Father? By the summer of my senior year, everyone including me had. A good enough movie, it was mostly forgettable, except thereโs this scene in which one of the fireman characters mistakenly opens a door without checking the knob for heat first. When he opens the door, his ass gets fried by a huge gout of flame. A backdraft, caused by the sudden rush of oxygen.Now, Iโm not exactly sure if thatโs what I was trying to accomplish. Point in fact, I didnโt end up causing a backdraft. For that you need a smoldering fire thatโs used up all the oxygen in a room. But heyโI wasnโt a firefighter or arsonist. I was a scared and pissed off (but mostly scared) eighteen year old trapped in a room with no way out. The door was guarded and it didnโt matterby whom, because I wasnโt gonna be waltzing by them any time soon.That chanting was getting louder. Weirder. The words all jumbled and mixed together, like from my nightmare of what Iโd seen in that clear
Devourer of Soulsย ย ย Twenty-One
TWENTY-ONEThroughout his entire talk with me, the muffled sound of hymns had drifted from the sanctuary through the storeroom door. When he left, the hymns rose into a crescendo, exploding into a chanting the likes of which Iโd never heard before. His voice boomed in that strange language I remembered from my dreams. I imagined him striding up onto the stage, arms spread high into the air, yellow suit blazing with unnatural light, the flesh on his face hanging loose as the thing that hid behind it got closer to finally coming out.I hauled myself to my feet, gasping at the pain exploding in my ankles and knees, gritting my teeth against a sudden surge of bile. Somehow I managed not to puke, leaning back against the shelf, gasping for air, trying to gather my resources for one last final . . .What?What could I possibly do? The man in yellow had covered all the angles. Had obviously planned this whole thing out long before heโd come here. Hell, heโd done it before, apparently, in
Devourer of Soulsย ย ย Twenty
TWENTYWhen I awoke I found myself lying face first on a thinly carpeted floor. My head pounded, feeling about twice its normal size, throbbing behind my eyes. I licked dry, cracked lips and felt my stomach heave.I felt enormously tired. Fuck it all, right? I didnโt understand any of this. Didnโt understand why it was happening. How it could happen so fast. How apparently a quaint little Adirondack hamlet had turned into a compound full of crazed cult members in just several days . . .Of course, youโre assuming it didnโt start quietly, long ago.. . . I barely understood what was really going on beneath the surface of things . . .Weโre going to be over into His Unknowable image.. . . and I wasnโt sure I cared much, anymore. My best friend or what remained of him was good as gone. My preacher Dad had not only gone full-on religious-nut-loony, heโd apparently set Bobby and me up as targets or even (fucking unbelievable) sacrifices to invite the man yellow into our town. If the
Devourer of Soulsย ย ย Nineteen
NINETEENBobbyโs front door slammed shut in the wake of my frenzied escape, a sharp crack disrupting that quiet July morning. Not caring if anyone saw me, I stumbled to a stop on the front walk, covered my face with my hands and breathed in deeply, trying to quiet the pounding in my head.What the hell had I just seen?In all respects, Iโm thankful that to this day only distorted, fragmentary half-images remain of what I saw flopping in that water-filled bathtub. Those fingers, fish-belly white and slimy, had sprouted from a hand and arm of the same color. It had reached up from a body the same as it. Huge, bulging and reptilian-fish eyes had glared unblinkingly from beneath the water, and . . . and . . .Gills.Several rows of them, slits on either side of that . . . thingโs neck, from its ears to its collarbone. Gills, puckering in white skin, pink around the edges, fluttering open and shut in rhythmic pulses, bubbling . . . breathing underwater.Thankfully I remembered no more
Devourer of Soulsย ย ย Eighteen
EIGHTEENIt didnโt take long to figure out why Dad hadnโt heard me scream, if indeed I had. The house was empty. Six-thirty in the morningโway too early for VBS to start, but the house was empty. I had no idea where Dad was. I assumed the church. Where else would the pastor of the townโs only church be during VBS? Heโd left no note, however, and I had no idea when heโd left. For all I knew, he couldโve gone two hours ago, thirty minutes ago, or maybe heโd even snuck out last night after Iโd fallen asleep. He always made his bed in the morning, so that didnโt offer much in the way of evidence.All these things tumbled through my head as I sat at the den table, staring into nothing. I didnโt know what to think or feel. Three days ago, Bobby and I had skipped the opening Sunday night services of our annual VBS to get snacks from the gas station and to chill. On the way back to the church we stumbled across those two dead dogs and that weird alter with the symbol carved into it. Both of
Devourer of Soulsย ย ย Seventeen
SEVENTEENAmazingly, Dad didnโt wake when I screamed. In fact, Iโm not sure whether or not I did scream aloud. All I really remember is jerking upright, heart banging, head pounding, sweating bullets and what sounded like a scream fading in my head.After about fifteen minutesโduring which my heart hammered like Iโd just finished a marathonโno sounds came from Dadโs room next door. No stirring of bedsprings, no creaking of floor boards, nothing.Eventually, my heart slowed down and my hyperventilating faded. I managed a shaking breath and ran a hand through my sweat-damp hair. I tried to piece together my second nightmare that week. Like last time, only blurred fragments remained. Iโd been on the path in the woods heading toward that clearing, from which had come a strange and unsettling but also arousing medley of growling moans, grunting, hissing and yowling . . .The man in yellow.Heโd been there. His face had looked different, however. Like a loose-fitting rubber mask. I reme
Devourer of Soulsย ย ย Sixteen
SIXTEENIn the dream I was walking down the path again, this time at night. I shouldnโt have been able to see much, but the moon above seemed strangely large and bright. It cast an odd luminescence that filtered through the trees, bathing everything in an eerie yellow glow. The path seemed different. Alien. As if I didnโt belong there. It looked like the path running through the woods from the gas station to the church, but it also looked like it led elsewhere, somewhere different . . .Somewhere beyond.Up ahead on my left, I recognized the break in undergrowth leading to the clearing where Bobby and I discovered those two dead dogs and that weird altar. As I quickened my pace, compelled toward that clearing, I felt myself moving along the path smoothly, quickly, with purpose, strength and ease. I was walking with a rhythmic, even gait. I felt no pain in my extremities or my lower back at all.I didnโt look down at my legs, however, just marveled at how fluidly I was moving down t
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