The Exorcism

What happens when evil isn't really evil?

Her pure angels' face crumbles and crumples, withers and wilts as he chants out spells and waves bushels of leaves menacingly.

The tears roll down her cheeks as she silently screams, crying out for the fate she and her friends have, closer, now...

She feels her soul exuding from her, as he chants faster, spinning his arms wildly in his mad dance of ecstasy.

Not realizing his mistake, that he will destroy humanity forever, he chants on, until the sea of pale ghosts is gone, their pure souls destroyed forever.

He lights a match, and places it upon his book of hatred, laying the leaves upon it, his customs, his beliefs that they may only be used once.

In his maniacal pleasure, he lets the flames engulf the rotting wooden house, until the wood charrs, then collapses.

His lungs fill with soot as he chokes in his desperate attempts to breathe as he futilely attempts to lift the burning wood that burns on, charring his body to ashes.

And with humanitys protection gone, the spirits from hell claw their way up through the ground, as his spirit walks the earth, dreading the day of the exorcist.

Author's Note

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Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

You told a wild tale in this story. I had to read a few times. This would be a very good longer story. Need more detail and description of events. The who, what, where, why and when of this tale could make this a classic tale. I enjoyed this tale. I like the ending. Thank you for sharing the excellent story.
Coyote