The Exorcist's House by Nick Roberts & Crystal Lake Publishing

Author:Nick Roberts & Crystal Lake Publishing [Roberts, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: epub, Ebook, QuarkXPress
Publisher: Crystal Lake Publishing
Published: 2022-05-05T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

Daniel sat in the basement with his beer and began reading the first page in Merle Blatty’s journal, dated April 1973 . . .

I reckon I better get this written down and out of my head before I start to lose my marbles. My name is Merle Cliff Blatty, and I am fifty-three-years-old at the time of this confession. I suppose that’s a good enough word for it. I was going to write journal entry, but confession feels more appropriate.

I’m not trying to tell you my entire life’s story because there’s no need. I’m nothing special. No one who finds this writing long after I’ve passed needs to know what my childhood was like or what baseball team I rooted for. I’ll include only the necessary details of my life that helped form the larger picture of what’s going on here. My only intention is to document my encounters with absolute evil.

My wife, Gertie, and I were married in our early twenties, and we moved to this farm and had a boy shortly after that. My son, Sam, God rest his soul, got bit by a copperhead when he was eight years old and passed. Needless to say, it was the worst experience of our lives. Gertie never got over it, and Sam’s death eventually led to hers.

I know I wasn’t there for her like I should’ve been. My reaction was to stay busy and keep my mind occupied. I built the fence around the farm, brought in some chickens, and dug a well in the basement. I know now that the devil doesn’t just use idle hands to do his work.

She hit the booze hard and spent her days sobbing in random corners of the house. I’d come home from work and find her passed out in the early evenings. I told her something had to give, and she knew it before I said it. She agreed to go to church on Wednesdays and Sundays, and that’s what we did. Gertie quit hitting the booze, but she became dependent on something else entirely.

She joined an all-women’s prayer group that met before the Wednesday service. One of the ladies in that group listened to my wife’s story of losing Sam. This woman—Rita was her name—told Gertie that she had heard of ways to communicate with spirits from the other side. She’d been studying books on the occult out of morbid curiosity I suppose, and she told Gertie she wanted to put it into practice. When Gertie came home and told me that, I about lost it. I thought, what kind of church group has ideas about talking to dead people? I told her that it seemed like witchcraft to me, and I wanted no part of it. Gertie was not happy with my reaction, but as far as I knew at the time, that was the end of it.

About a month went by and Gertie seemed her old self. She was off the booze, she was back to cooking and keeping the house in order, and she was even putting together quite the garden in the backyard.

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