Novel & Cerita Exorcist Book

The old stone rectory basement had been converted into a makeshift exorcism chamber. Heavy crosses hung on the walls, candles burned in a protective circle around the large wooden table, and thick iron chains dangled from the ceiling. Father Elias stood at the head of the table in his black cassock, eyes glowing with that familiar demonic hunger.

“I’m sorry for the troubles.” And that’s it on Confessions of an Exorcist. I guess the only plus side to all of these shitty happenings is that I will not be ordained. I will take that as a win. Who knew seven year olds could pack a mean punch? Goodbye everyone. Stay Divine. Author’s Note: Finally wrote my first exorcism, what do you think? This chapter is the longest I have written but I hope to write longer chapters in the future, possibly ten thousand words *wink*

All I knew was that if it had anything to do with that demon on the computer then this might be worse than I thought. “Okay,” she said in between her sobs, she continued in telling me about her dream, not leaving out a single detail. She told me about gashes that had appeared, how she had mumbled some sort of chant under her breath and how the demon had appeared. Abby cuddled in my arms and explained how it had disappeared after the symbol had been revealed. Even now she had thought that she had woken up and had seen it in the mirror and woke up in a start. “Then, I came straight down here, those eyes burning in my mind, to research everything on the computer. I found out that the beast is a

Sneered Eric. Megan threw more holy water at home and started to recite an exorcism in hopes Daniel would be pulled out of Eric. “Grr! Bitch what are you doing to me?” “Stop fighting me, Eric. It will only make the pain last longer. Push him out.” Megan recites the ritual Romano exorcism in Latin. She watched as Eric twitched and screamed. Blood started to drip out of his mouth. “You’re killing me you bitch, and you don’t even care.”

I don't remember anything, how I get here and how I did it? I think I'm in someone's office. I hid my body behind the thick curtains that covers the glass window. Someone came and I know him. He's our professor, Damon Salvatore. He's the vampire who killed teacher Dan. He's the killer of everyone and I have to kill him. He's holding a book I guess. It's a black book. I think it's a book of spell. He's walking back and forth like he is in big problem. He's biting his finger with his teeth and he casually frowned when needed.

She watched through a crack in the wood, and saw just enough to see the mob racing down the aisle, seemingly right for her. “That way!” screamed the priest. “The vampire fled that way!” He pointed out the side door, and the mob rushed right past him, and back into the night. After several seconds, the never-ending stream of bodies fled from the church, and all was finally silent. The priest closed the door, locking it behind them. She could hear his footsteps, walking towards her, and Caitlin, shaking with fear, with cold, slowly opened the trap door. He slid back the curtain and looked down at her.

"I killed someone via sex and now I don't know any means of bringing Jonathan back." "Jonathan? Who is—" She sat a shot of rum on her small nightstand. In the center, was an exposed eyeball complete with dangling optic never. In the pupil was the shade of a little man, soul trapped inside an eye, a classic case of demonic exorcism done wrong on the possessed. "Ah...that's Jonathan."

A strange giggle slips from my throat. “Open the door!” I shout again, kicking it this time. I start to scream. “Let me out! You have no idea what you’ve done! He’s coming! The devil is coming for his own. He won’t leave a single one of you standing!” I hear them talking loudly. They say I’m losing my mind. They don’t realize I’ve finally found it. The lock clicks, but it isn’t Mason. My father walks in, followed by a man dressed in heavy black robes, carrying a bowl of stagnant water and a crucifix. The “Exorcist.”

It simply disintegrated, then reappeared back in the car. “Sick bastard,” I spat. He'd been stalking me. I tore a slim black book from the rat pile. Book of Psychopomps was etched on it in gold ink. Numbers, emails, and old-fashioned addresses accompanied names, written in no apparent order. I rifled through the pages: “Old farts: ODIN, MORRIGAN, YAMA, HERMES....” and “New pests: ANAESTHESIA, AIDS, SANTA MUERTE...” A red ribbon marked a page at the back. “Accessories: SHANNON PARKER.”

I take what little I can into my mouth, sucking the warm residue clean until my eyes roll back and blackness takes me. The next thing I know, I’m wearing a clean white dress in the altar girls’ dressing room. My parents and Daniel are standing by the narrow cot. Little Jason stands quietly beside my mother. “Oh, Calista,” Mom whispers, leaning down with a look of deep sorrow. “I’m sorry you had to go through exorcism.” She presses her lips to my cheek—the very same lips that have wrapped around the holy men of this parish. A wave of intense nausea rolls through my stomach.