Bold Words

Day 3: Canvas - Church - Kick

The brass bells of the church hadn’t been rung in some time, but the ghost investigators apparently couldn’t have helped themselves. The layers upon layers of rust coating didn’t stop the gonging from echoing throughout the abandoned church and the large courtyard outside. There wasn’t anyone around for miles and that’s why this spot was originally picked. Bethel had been hoping to avoid everyone, but it seemed people had an uncanny affinity for abandoned buildings. They were abandoned for a reason. That said, the poisonous asbestos didn’t stop them, sleeping bears wouldn’t stop them, rotting floorboards and ghost tales didn’t stop them. If anything, it seemed to fuel the curiosity in them more.

Things sure had changed in the last hundred years away. Albeit, when he was a kid, he sure enjoyed ducking into abandoned factories and spooking all the squatters. So maybe things really hadn’t changed after all this time. Just instead of sneaking into the church, he pretty much lived there.

“Hey, if there’s anyone here, talk to us!” A voice below demanded.

Bethel’s dark red pools dropped to look beneath him in the dark. His ass was set comfortably on one of the few support beams above the sanctuary. He got a great eyeful of mother Mary holding baby Jesus in stained glass to his left and could see just about the entire room below him.

“If there’s a spirit here, tell us. Is that you Father Haggard? We heard you might have killed prostitutes here. Did you? If you want to set your reputation straight, tell us. We want to hear from you,” another voice below continued.

Bethel couldn’t keep the smirk off of his lips. Oh yeah, that was good. That legend. It was all his idea anyway. He wouldn’t have figured so many people would want to talk to a sex pusher priest or some kinds of prostitutes, but they were so damn intrigued and they all wanted to meet him—even if they didn’t know it was all him.

Barely lifting a finger, Bethel made one of the books fall out of a pew pocket from below. It landed with a loud thunk which in turn caused the ghost hunters to gasp.

“Holy shit! Did you hear that?” One of them said.

“Yeah man, what the hell? I think it was over here,” another one said.

Bethel’s grin grew as he closed his eyes. Fuck it was too goddamn funny. These guys. These humans.

“Dude… Look. That sound—it was a Bible hitting the ground,” assumingly, this was the leader talking. “Hey, Father Haggard? Is that you? If it is, can you tell us what you did here when you were alive?”

How much did he want to play it up? That was always Bethel’s question. If he didn’t play along, most of the time the kids would get bored and use drastic measures to try and provoke a response and while he did get kicks out of spooking the people to trespass in his home, he also hated how more of them came because he responded. If they hadn’t thought it was haunted, there wouldn’t be anyone here.

It was a kind of damned if you did, damned if you didn’t situation. Being a demon however, Bethel was pretty much damned no matter what he did. It’s just something he had to live with.

This particular night, Bethel didn’t feel like entertaining company for long. He just wanted to relax for one night out of the year. Despite the fact it was dark, he dropped his sunglasses down his nose. He just so happened to like aviators and they didn’t affect his vision. He leaned back against the wood and closed his eyes, hoping to get a lil shut up if he ignored those below, but they didn’t let up. One hour went by, then two, then three and they still wandered around, looking for a response from him.

It wasn’t until they mentioned a Ouija board that they actually got his attention.

Fuck. Bethel sat up instantly.

They’d already had it set out on the stage near where the preacher would speak. Their hands were on the small pointer, getting ready to ask it a question. Bethel wasted no time as he melted into the shadows and formed, walking down the center aisle below.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Bethel said, his tongue flicking against his teeth within his mouth.

The three at the Ouija board jumped, lifting their cameras. All they saw was shadow. The figure had yet to form and Bethel’s demonic form was distorting on their cameras. They only thing they could really capture electronically was the red glow of his eyes, even though he was wearing sunglasses. It was subtle, but it was there.

“Wow, wow, wow—Who are you?” The assumed leader said.

“Not important at the moment. What is important is the Ouija board. Get it out,” Bethel said, “You know what that thing does?” His voice was cocky like that jock you loved to hate, an obvious grin came through the darkness.

“Well… um... duh? It channels spirits,” one of the other’s said.

Bethel sucked in a small breath and chuckled. “Not exactly. Let me explain something to you. When you go somewhere, bring out a Ouija board—hell, that’s like going to your friend’s house and calling up all your friends to party and trash the place. Except those friends… you might not want to see, you get what I’m saying?” Bethel asked as he approached the altar the men were placed at.

“Not really. Look man, we’re trying to contact spirits, get an idea about the afterlife. We know something’s out there. We’re just trying to get proof,” the third guy with the handheld camera said. He couldn’t take his eyes off the screen and Bethel knew why.

He could see the bewilderment in the man’s face and the growing fear as he grew closer. He knew the individuals had no idea just why they were feeling more fear now. “If that’s all you want, then let me help you with that. There’s no need to call anyone else to this party,” he said, reaching the altar. Bethel lifted his hand, giving a light wave, the Ouija board flipped, catching on fire as he snapped. The flames exploded, causing the men to do their versions of a scream.

Bethel grinned. The cameras were on him. He knew, but through them, they wouldn’t see anything other than shadows and red dots.

The leader stared at him over his camera. “What—what are you?” he asked.

Bethel chuckled lightly to himself. The flames flickered off his human-like face. He wasn’t a bad looking bastard and he knew it, but he also knew the subtle differences existed between him and the humans. The fire flickered in his glowing red eyes and illuminated his skin. His left arm looked something like a canvas, with a maze of black ink trailing up from his hand and over his shoulder, disappearing into his shirt. The ink did more than decorate his skin, it hid him from the real monsters. The ones these boys were just trying to summon.

“You wanted the devil? You got him,” Bethel’s voice dropped and suddenly, each one of the ghost hunters had visions of their worst nightmare where they once saw Bethel. They went running out of the church within ten seconds.

Bethel snorted a chuckle as he disappeared into the shadows once more, reappearing in his ‘bed’ above the sanctuary.

“The devil,” he snorted, dropping his head back and closing his eyes, “God, I hate that guy…”