Safe in His Arms

Angry flames surrounded the entirety of the white marble table. It tossed and wildly reached as high as the ceiling went, but there was no evidence of smoke inhaled or seen. The flames weren’t normal though for it couldn’t burn and it was in the shade of blue and violet. As unearthly as it was, it seemed to envelop a lying, unconscious man. His arms were restrained on each of the table’s edge. His feet - with the same treatment. Called by most of the resident staff as André, he was the eldest son of the Rogratiatto Family Master of the House, Monsieur Alfon Rogratiatto. For the most part, it wasn’t the man’s willingness to be a sacrifice in a demonic possession, but he accepted anyway. For the most part, it was the family’s endeavor to capture and control the demon now residing destructively inside him. With all the planning and careful estimation, neither of the family members had expected that their plans would go awr

Nine thirty in the morning - that’s the time the airplane of Father Marcus and his secretary landed on the City of Prague. They were greeted by a chauffeur named Mr. Ocarino, who was instructed by Madame Regina to drive them to the Rogratiatto Estate. “The estate is past the city, located in the first mountain you see in your windows gentleman. It is going to be a long ride, so please do entertain yourselves along the way, ” the driver stated in thick English, addressing the two before he drove the limousine out of the airport parking area. They nodded with this and went on to glance at each of their side’s window. True to what the driver stated, the travel was a long one. Marcus spent amusing himself with the scenery outside, while Father Julien, as usual, went on to pray the rosary cycle. It was actually their second time visiting the city. The first was when Marcus got invited to become a speaker in a youth assembl

The two priests arrived in the residence at exactly eleven-thirty in the morning. It was lunchtime, of course, so the growling of Marcus’ stomach was understandable even though he just had four rolls of pastry an hour ago. Luckily enough, the moment they entered inside the mansion’s foyer and after exchanging pleasantries with Madame Regina and Master Alfon, they were directed straight all the way to the family dining room. They were important guests, so no one except the Mistress and the Master planned to dine with them. And Ysabelle, supposed to be if she decides to show herself up on time. “Please, make yourselves comfortable, Father Marcus, Father Julien, ” Madame Regina stated, gesturing for them to sit in their reserved seats. “Yes, Madame, thank you.” Marcus was the one who answered politely. On the right side of Alfon’s center chair was where he sat, and beside him, Fathe

Black sky. Black earth. Black sea. Marcus found himself again in the same dream, but this time, not in the same way. He was lying on the sand, gazing at the sky with the blankness that was comparable to the barren place. Emptiness filled his mind. And yes, he had been like this for what seemed like hours until a wave of water came rushing towards him and when it touched his bare feet, this somehow pulled him out of the void state. His thoughts and emotions ran wild then as if it was freed from being imprisoned, and with this, confusion immediately clouded his mind. His lips tensed and his brows furrowed as he contemplated all of the recent events. He was confused because ever since he had exorcised the demon in André’s body, this dream came into full swing. How? Why? Was it possible that this was the work of the demon? Most likely not for he was sure he exorcised the damn entity into oblivion. Very sure of it. 

Exhilarating. That’s what Marcus first thought of when his eager lips met Ysabelle’s. He had almost convinced himself that he was already devouring the lunch table’s dessert as she tasted of sweet honeyed strawberries and the curve of her lips were moist and velvety like a chocolate cake. With all the willpower he could muster up, he didn’t use it to stop this moment. Instead, when he found her unsteady, trying to push him lightly away with both of her hands, he snaked a hand in the small of her back and pressed her closer to his body. His back was against the balustrade to stabilize them at least for any possible imbalance. A fall down to the base of the stairs would be unlucky indeed, not to mention painful. There was still some tiny pang of guilt a priest like him was expected to feel when treading on restricted boundaries, but true enough, it didn’t rack his mind. His logical reasoning was already clouded in