#caliete

With Halloween coming up I thought I'd post some stories that happened here at my little co-op farm. Its a small farm I bought with my best friend and her husband that we run and take in unwanted animals, that is when we aren't working our day jobs, charity-volunteer, or Search and Rescue cases.

So in the spirit of the season I'll start with the unusual events leading up to our first Halloween. On the night of the Autumn Equinox we built a bonfire and poured ourselves a few drinks- some family recipe Appalachian home brew.

Now, I take bonfires very seriously and had been preparing for weeks, carefully selecting the best branches and tinder, even going so far as to collect and dry out large bundles of late summer flowers and herbs to add to the top of the fire. In my family, we have a long standing tradition of welcoming in each new season with a bonfire and an important component of those seasonal bonfires are the flowers and herbs. So for weeks I had been going out to cut the necessary plants and dry them in the barn.

Now they were blazing brightly with the cut grass, weeds, and branches from our months of hard work setting up and renovating our new home and the surrounding acers.

I don't normally dance, but when I do, it is not pretty I am very, very intoxicated. So I flail happily around my fire, taking turns dancing with my friends under the bright stars and just enjoying myself free from big cities and a nice break from all our hard work.

As the night progressed the fire finally began to die down and after a few drinks I felt myself beginning to tire.

Ty, the husband of my friends asked me question that I wasn't quite able hear over the music. I thought he asked if I wanted more to drink, so I said yes. Being deaf in one ear I often mishear people.

A few moments later, I hear Ty holler out "Move!" as a large pile of debris we had stripped from the house was hurled onto the dieing flames. Krystal (my friend and wife of the pair) and I jumped back just in time to avoid the cloud of ash and embers. As I stagger backwards trying to comprehend what I had just witnessed when he again yells out for us to move just in time for me to watch him throw a bucket onto the smoldering embers. In the next instant the embers have erupted into bright yellow flames roaring skyward. The blast of heat sends all three of us onto our asses and I watch in shock as my bonfire turns into a flaming trash heap.

Black smoke rolls off the inferno, choking my lungs and making my eyes water. I crawl away when I hear Ty laughing drunkenly as the collection of boards, plaster, vinyl and trash blacken and burn. "Whoooo!" He lets out hill billy hollar. "Look at it burn!"

Krystal is now screaming at him for nearly killing us all and I just and watch quietly (and inebriated) as all my weeks of planning go up in smoke.

For you see, when my ancestors started the first Farm centuries ago, at the birth of our bonfire traditions, it was not a way to simply celebrate the changing of the seasons. No, it was a way to show respect to the things that we do not see, the beings that dwell within the woods just outside our view. It was a way of making peace with the Good Nieghbors, or local spirits. The old stories say the tradition started with my earliest ancestors inviting the beings to celebrate with them, to thank them for their protection, and that the plants we used were a sign of respect toward that treaty. Of course as the generations go by that origin has become more of a legend, few of my extended family actually believes this ritual is anything more than a leftover from our pagan, superstitious roots. But me and my grandfather know the truth. We've seen the things that lurk at the edge of the forests, seen what they can do to livestock, livelihoods, or of course people.

So imagine, if you will, you are invited to a party. A party filled with wonderful cakes, treats, and beautiful decorations. Now imagine someone literally dumps a pile of garbage on top of it.

That essentially is what has happened.

So I sit there, unsure how to tell my arguing friends what has just happened, and finally decide to just go to bed.

The next morning I wake up in the predawn hours, hungover from our libations, I look out my window see the fire pit is still smoldering. The black smoke is now grey and I can see old wires birnt black and twisted with pits of melted plastic sticking to the stones I dug up and carried from the creek.

I sigh, put on a pair of pants and go to rhe kitchen to make the moring coffee.

As the smell of the black brew wafts through the house, my cohabints emerge from their room looking as good as I feel.

My throat feels tight and scratchy so I simply raise my mug to them in greeting and am met with simular responses.

"Sorry Ty tried the burn the house down," Krystal offers when she has her coffee prepared.

"Hey, I said move!" Ty tries to protest his actions were justified.

I sign to Krystal, who translates for Ty, that its all good. Even though it may not be.

Back at my family's old Farm we hold to our traditions very seriously, like an old woman to her purse. I don't expect my friends to understand the importance of these traditions just yet, and believe me, I know how it sounds to explain these.

But instead I finish my coffee and try to tell them I'm off to start the morning chores, but my vioce comes out in a raspy gravel, so again I sign to Krystal.

Morning chores are typically the bane of my existence, but as I have the day off from my day job so it's not as bad, and it gives me time to think. I obviously can't just write an apology letter or throw another bonfire, the next time to hold one won't be until Halloween- and thats just for fun, normally. No instead I'll just have to my Buck Moon ritual will be enough to protect us from any malevolent spirits we may have offended.

I will note the Buck Moon ritual is NOT one of family's ancient traditions (well, on the Farm its called the Hay Moon and we did use to do something for that) but one I deviced myself as a way protecting myself when away from the Farm and the protection of the Hay Moon rites.

Nothing exactly happened that day, though none of the chickens had laid any eggs (which wasn't too far out the norm) however as the weeks progressed I noticed a few things that hinted something might be wrong.

The milk turned sour, the bread molded, and the grass began to die while the weeds began to overtake the pasture and garden. The grain barrels (thick plastic and metal that were advertised as critter proof) in the barn were chewed through and no matter what type of traps or bait I used the elusive culprits were still at large.

The chickens continued to not lay eggs and we soon went from an overwhelming plethora of tradable goods to a tiny stock barely able to feed ourselves. Not to mention that my voice had still yet to return making my job at the animal hospital very difficult to perform properly. My manager had to pull me aside and ask when I would be seeing a doctor about. If I could have laughed I would have but instead I was sent home early.

When the third week started of me being continuously mute and down to my last 6 eggs I new something had to be done. But the final motivation was when one of the horses, Cowboy, got sick. Immediately I called one of my vets and began to put my plan into action.

Thankfully the horse that was sick wasn't my horse, Prince. My family use to breed and sell horses for generations and Prince was one of the last horses born there. Prince is also very important to the Buck Moon ritual. As an avid hunter I normally follow all the hunting laws to a T, however for the Buck Moon I can only hunt in the middle of the night on horseback. Prince is the only horse we have trained for hunting so he's my only hope.

The day of the hunt I set everything up. My saddlebags, bow and arrows, along with a few less than normal trinkets. And in the express interest of keeping this long story short, I'm just going to skip ahead to the part where Prince and I return just before dawn with yearling buck being dragged behind us. Maybe I'll get a chance to explain more about it. How finding the deer took all night and the other beasts we saw in those woods, Gas Mask Gary, and how when we finally made it back with an hour to complete the ritual I was covered in blood and exhausted but still I got it done.

Work was not fun that day but luckily my sore throat was better and I had fresh eggs for breakfast. Along with some venison steaks.

I believed that the ritual had worked and soon our fall vegetables would be ready to harvest and everything wouldnbe back to normal.

To my relief, it was. Our vegetables and eggs were taken to market and our horse, Cowboy, was better almost overnight. I could finally talk again and had almost forgotten everything until October 30, the night before Halloween.

Like I said earlier we are renovating the house and one of the last rooms is the Krystal and Ty's bathroom- the master bath. We had ripped out the old vinyl and redoing some of the plumbing which left a small hole in the floor. We had all pretty much gotten ready for bed and Ty and I were outside with our last cigarettes for the day when we heard Krystal scream from the bathroom. We tossed our cigs and both ran toward the bathroom, Ty rapping on the door. "Babe, you alright?" He called thrpugh the door. Inside we could hear quiet the cacophony of noise, like bull in a China shop type deal. When Krystal started yelling again Ty and I burst through the door.

Krystal was armed with broom like a lance 8n one hand and towel like a whip in the other. And emerging out the whole in the floor was a black eyed, foam spitting raccoon. Its little claws dug into the vinyl leaving deep grooves and a horrific coughing, gagging noice emitted from its throat.

"Its rabid!" She yelled and jabbed the broom at it.

I've seen a rabid raccoon before, and so has Krystal, we've both worked those kinds of cases but this raccoon was different. Yes they will try to run up and attack, but it looked different. Like its skin wasn't on right and the sounds it made weren't what I had heard from raccoons- rabid or not.

Finally the little beast pulled itself free from the whole and ran, on its hind legs toward. All three of screamed but Krystal armed with her trusty broom hit it with everything she had and smashed its head into the cabinet.

For a moment the raccoon wobbled a few steps before it fell over, the mishape of its body more pronounced but even more damning was the blood running out its eyes and nose. Thick, black, tar like blood oozed from its head and the smell of rot and shit filled the bathroom.

Ty and Krystal nearly gagged as the smell hit us.

"What the fuck is that?" I head Ty ask as he pulled his shirt over his noes.

"It tried to kill me!" Krstal yelled. "I was trying take a shit and it climped up with its little paws!" She made a hand motion mimicking the raccoon reaching threw the whole. "We patching that whole tonight."

"Why does it smell so bad" Ty asked. "I ain't touching it."

I was oy half listening (well, less so than I normally can) and took the broom from Krystal to poke the thing.

As soon as the bristles touched the body the raccoon jumped back up, making even more gagging noises. I slammed the broom immediately on top of it, screaming again.

I grabbed a glass sitting on the counter and threw it onto the writhing beast. As soon as the water splashed onto its patchy fur a hissing could bebheard and steam rose from its now thrashing body.

"Holy fuck!" They screamed while I simply responded "Thats where I put the Holy water!"

The demonic raccoon was screaming and convulsing on the floor infront of us as the water burned it.

Krystal turned to me. "Why was there holy water in my bathroom?!"

I shrugged. "Divine intervention? But now we know its a raccoon corpse possessed by a demon."

Krystal threw her hands up. "Oh that is wonderful! Demon coon in the house!"

I looked back at Ty. "Can you help me grab my things?"

He just nodded, somewhat dumbfounded. I guess this was his first possessed raccoon.

It only took a few minutes to gather the stuff I would use. However there was one last thing I needed.

"So, I can't really banish it without its name and raccoons don't have vocal cords so I need to put it something that can talk." I looked Krystal in the eyes with a pleading look.

She shook her head. "Oh hell no. We are not doing that. Can't we use my in-laws?"

"Hey!" Ty was not amused. "Why can't we use your family?"

"We're not using anyones family!" I was tired and the circle I had made for the demon wasn't going to hold forever. "Krys, please."

In defeat she sighed and left the room for few minutes. While she was gone I prepped Ty on what was about to occur. I handed him a blessed knife I had and told him "If it leaves the circle, no matter the vessel, stab it hard enough to pin it to the floor." He looked at the long blade and just nodded.

Krystal camd back in with her son's Tickle Me Elmo doll. That thing gave us all the creeps but now it would be put to some good use.

I made second circle with very specific symbols, not dissimilar to the first one that held the Satanic flailing beast and drew a kind of infinity like symbol touching each circle. Krystal placed the Elmo doll in the new circle and I began the ritual.

If you have only seen exorcisms in movies or tv you will think there has to a Bible, screaming, and lots of flailing along with green pea soup.

It's possible all of those things could happen if you are dealing with humans, especially eccentric ones. A raccoon corpse on the other hand, not so much. The only difficult part I have is not knowing the demons name and the time crunch I have on the circles. Once the water dries, I probably won't be able to hold it back. And yes, like I told Krystal I can banish it but it could just pop up right back. And then we could be in a loop trying to constantly send him back and forth back and forth. Instead, I can trap him in a body that doesn't have claws or teeth or rabies. Which is what I did.

The words don't matter so long as you believe them, so long as you give them power. Now that doesn't mean I can just say whatever I want. I have a long monologue I use that took me years to perfect. It's written in few languages most ancient Hebrew and Hellenistic Greek with a bit of Gaelic thrown in for that extra punch. These are the languages that are strongest to me.

Except I have to read them slowly, if I mess up a single syllable I have to start all over. And I have a mild speech impediment. And worse sometimes.

Carefully I pronounce each syllable, its still a race against time and if mispronounce anything I will have to start over.

The smell of rot and shit is getting worse and the demon-raccoon starts convulsing madly. The black blood is still flowing from its head but as it slamns it head and claws at its body the black tar leaves smoldering smudges in the bare floor.

I'm nearing the mid point of the ritual and motion to my roommates to leave the room. Krystal tries to get my attention, to tell me no she is staying there but I pour all my focus into the words I'm spewing. If anything goes wrong, and the demon doesn't go into the proper vessel it could easy posses my friends. And while a simple wooden door won't keep a demon from possessing a host, if there is only one visible option they typically take it.

I hear the soft click of the door behind me. I raise my voice and the raccoon is now actively ripping fur and flesh off itself. The most ear peircing scream emits from its maw of broken teeth, I can see black blood gurgling in the back of ots throat. My stomach almost feels sick but I push on.

I hold up my left hand and draw a second knife along my open palm. I didn't want my roommates to see the self mutilation that is part of this exorcism. I hold my bloody hand above the irate demon. I let the blood drip a new circle around the demon.

The smell of apple blossums, cedarwood, and salt water mixes with the demonic stench from the raccoon. Its enough to be overwhelming and for a brief moment I almost stumble over the final phrase but it comes out well articulated.

The sound of bones snapping fill the room as I watvh the raccoon literally brake in half, part of its spinal column protruding from the stomach. Black blood spew from its mouth, filling the circle.

In the neighboring circle I hear the little voice box of the doll come to life. "Elmo loves you!"

Stupid fucking demons.

I scoop up the now animate doll and hand it to Krystal. "I had one rule!" I yell as I stumble to my room. "No goddamn demons!"

The next day, Halloween, was like any other day. I went to work, did my chores, rode my horse. The new addition of locking Helmo wasn't too offsetting. He still gets out of his case and walks around, rather poorly, but so far he can't do much. Aside annoy us with his flailing and constant prerecorded chatter. "Hehehe. That tickles!"

"No shit, Helmo!"

"Fuck off, Helmo!"

Sometimes, when he is too much, we put him in shoebox. Other times we might even take a stab at him. He doesn't like that.

But the arrival of our wayward demon isn't what upset me. No, what upset the most was what happened Halloween night and the next morning.

As we sat around the bonfire Halloween night in our costumes with our drinks and smokes I glanced up. Through the flames, at the edge of the woods I could see a tall, lean figure in a hoody. The flames reflected off the lenses of the gasmask that covered his face and I felt a cold shutter run down my spine. Gas Mask Gary is the biggest enigma in the town, but his presence always means something strange and possibly dangerous is going to happen.

The next morning when I rose up to care the animals before getting ready for work, I saw something unusual in the extinguished firepit. In the predawn light I walked over closer to inspect it.

A door made of hard carved wood with a plain handle lay unmarked as if raising out the soot and ashes.