The Toll - The Exorcism of Maurice Theriault
↪a drabble by @holdmypurse https://tinyurl.com/2j9ed8nh Trigger Warning: Mention of Miscarriage.
The air crackled with tension as the exorcism of Maurice Theriault unfolded in the dimly lit room. The scent of incense hung heavy in the air, mingling with the palpable sense of dread that permeated every corner. The afflicted man sat writhing on a chair, his body contorted in agony as the demon within him fought against the forces of light. In front of him, the priest stood tall and resolute, his voice echoing through the room as he recited passages from the Bible in Latin. Each word was a weapon, a shield against the darkness that threatened to consume Maurice's soul. Lorraine and Ed stood by his side, their hands clasped in fervent prayer as they lent their strength to the battle that raged before them.
The clairvoyant knelt beside the French-Canadian man, her heart heavy with compassion as she wiped the sweat and tears of blood from his contorted face. "Stay strong, Maurice." She whispered, her voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos. "You can fight this. You are stronger than you know." But the farmer's struggles grew more intense with each passing moment, his body convulsing with the force of the demon's wrath. Sweat beaded on his brow, his eyes rolling back in his head as he fought against the unseen forces that held him captive. With each word of the priest's prayers, the room seemed to vibrate with an otherworldly energy, a clash of light and darkness that threatened to tear the very fabric of reality asunder.
As the man's body convulsed with the intensity of the exorcism, his voice rose in a guttural chant, speaking in tongues that sent shivers down the spines of all who bore witness. Ed reached out to restrain him, but his movements were wild and unpredictable, slipping through the demonologist's grasp like smoke. In an instant, the farmer's hand shot out, seizing Lorraine by the wrist with a strength that belied his frail appearance. The clairvoyan'ts eyes widened in horror as she found herself locked in a chilling gaze with Maurice's white, unfathomable eyes—the eyes of the demon that dwelled within him.
A chilling presence materialized before her, taking on the twisted form of a nun. But this was no holy figure—its visage was contorted with malice, its very essence a perversion of everything sacred. Lorraine's heart pounded in her chest as the demonic entity advanced towards her, its movements unnaturally swift and fluid. She felt a cold dread creeping over her, threatening to paralyze her with fear as the creature drew closer, its darkened hand outstretched. With a sense of foreboding dread, she watched as the demon's hand descended towards her lower stomach, its touch sending a shockwave of terror coursing through her veins. In an instant, she was consumed by a vision of the future—a future tainted by darkness and despair—a glimpse of her beloved husband's death, unfolding before her eyes with agonizing clarity.
She watched in horror as Ed's valiant form was consumed by shadows, his voice lost amidst the cacophony of screams and wails that echoed through the void. Tears welled in Lorraine's eyes as she reached out to him, her cries drowned out by the overwhelming sense of despair that threatened to swallow her. As the demon's grip tightened around her, Lorraine felt a searing pain shoot through her womb, causing her to gasp in agony. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever experienced—a torment that seemed to pierce her very soul. The demon stared into her eyes, its voice slithering into her thoughts.
"For this, I give you knowledge. For this, I shall take my toll."
The demon's words echoed in her mind, its voice a chilling whisper that cut through the darkness. In that moment, the clairvoyant felt a surge of terror grip her heart as she faced the consequences of the price she had just been forced to pay. A primal scream tore from her lips. With a trembling hand, she reached out to grasp at the ephemeral threads of hope that remained, her fingers closing around the rosary beads that hung around her neck. She collapsed to the ground, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The exorcism was now over and her husband was holding her, apprehension painted all over his face as he attempted to ask her what had she seen.
As her hand trembled against the tender flesh where the demon's malevolent touch had tainted her skin, a wave of realization crashed over her with devastating force. In that agonizing moment, she felt a profound sense of loss wash over her—a loss that cut far deeper than she could have ever imagined. And as her husband held her, Lorraine grieved the loss of the child she would never meet.
