Chapter 4
Emotions.
Jason did not understand them very well yet. While he understood certain ones clearly, most made him uncomfortable. The love his mother was expressing to and for him, while understandable, was beyond his ability to return. He felt nothing but mild gratitude towards her.
He knew this disappointed her, but he was unable to feel what she wanted him to feel, and what she obviously needed from him. He did feel badly for her about this, but in a disassociated way. He wasn't who she thought he was.
He examined his memories. He had two sets, and both were fragmented. He could see that he had (or, this body had) indulged in feelings and emotions freely in the past. But when he awoke, he was changed. He knew he was not the original inhabitant of this body. His other set of memories, which were coming in flashes, were growing stronger. He remembered another life, but that, too, was frustratingly just out of reach. He also knew he'd had a different body in that life.
He mentally set the whole business of emotions aside, and went about looking into land and houses to buy. Over the past eight months, he had turned a pretty good profit by keeping several units for rental. A few more he had bought, and then turned around and resold.
He also liked to travel and see the country, and observe people. He was still enjoying each meal, and always ate with a gusto that people had actually chuckled over. Everything was going fairly well when he became disturbed.
He could <feel> something was wrong. He was approaching it and had no idea what it was, nor how to counteract it. It unsettled him. He had rented a car for the weekend. He was traveling into the country outside of a large town in Maryland. He was going to go look over a prospective land purchase.
As he rounded a bend, he found it. He braked to a halt, skidding the last few feet briefly on the asphalt road. A dirt road to the right was getting weed choked, but was still visible as a road. He felt the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand up. He was instantly on his guard.
Evil was rolling off the woods and road towards the road. Something bad was located off the road, in the woods lining the side of the it. Deep inside himself, he <knew> what it was, but was unwilling to consider it. Yet, his <second site> confirmed the 'darkness' that he saw.
He parked the car, and locked it. He started walking up the overgrown dirt road. Potholes and erosion of the road's shoulders showed clearly. There was no evidence of any vehicles having traversed this road recently.
Keeping an eye out on the woods around him, he continued down the road at a brisk walk. Five minutes later, after rounding a curve, he came upon a dilapidated old building.
A wooden picket fence had, at one time, surrounded the old weather beaten house. It had fallen down in several places. The house was two stories, and looked like it had not been painted in years. The wooden sides were weathered and shingles were missing from the roof. The front porch sagged. At one time, it had been screened in, but the outer screen door was down on the ground.
The feeling he was getting, emanated from this house, almost like a wave. It beat against him continuously, and seemed to push at him physically now that he stood in front of the house. He gritted his teeth and walked closer, getting more detail as he did.
He managed a few more steps in the direction of the house then noticed that he had changed directions. He stopped. He had not wanted to change direction, but had found himself going off to one side. He narrowed his eyes and thought.
An image came to him then, of a glowing sword. As soon as the image came to his mind, the pressure that had been pushing at him was gone! The image wavered as surprise took over his mind. A sword?
As soon as he released the image of the sword, the waves of force were back, pushing with as much strength as before. He called up the image of the sword, again, and the pressure was gone. While he still could sense the "evil", it no longer affected him to any degree. It was now no more than a nagging sensation.
He held the image of the sword firmly in his mind, and strode forward with a new confidence that he wondered at. He got to the porch and stepped up onto the floor of it, carefully.
The wind had blown leaves and debris inside, but there was no sign of animal or insect activity. While he doubted anyone lived here, he called out, and knocked on the door of the house. No answer. He knocked again, just to be sure, and then tried the door. It was locked.
He tried peering in through the window, but a curtain on the other side blocked his view. He left the front door and walked around the house. All the windows at ground level had curtains that were closed.
The upstairs windows were similarly curtained, from what he could see from the ground. He knew abandoned buildings usually wound up with broken windows, and were vandalized. But with the way the evil rolled off of this one, he doubted anyone or anything would approach it deliberately.
As he went to the back of the house, he noticed a ladder that had been bolted to the side of the house going up to the second floor. He frowned. That was a strange place to install a ladder. It was attached to the side of the back of the house, just a couple feet from the back door.
He tried the back door; but it, too, was locked. Shrugging, he went to the ladder, and tested it as best he could. He started climbing. Of all things, there was a door built into the wall, up here. There was also a small platform you could stand on. From the looks, it was a homemade job. Perhaps the owner was not a good craftsmen, but had done it anyway, and hurriedly. All in all, a very strange place for a door.
Jason reached over and tried the door, the knob turned, and he pushed on the door. It opened stiffly for a short six inches, and then stopped against something. He frowned, and pushed harder. It opened a bit more, but stopped, again.
Since he was still standing on the ladder, he was in a bad position to apply any pressure. The small platform-landing that had been attached to the side of the house, did not look that firm to his eye.
He tested the platform with his left foot, adding more and more weight, while keeping a firm hold of the ladder. While the platform groaned and creaked, it held. He decided to take a chance, and stepped fully onto it.
He now had the leverage he needed. He put his shoulder to the door and pushed. It was difficult, but he it opened enough for him to slip inside. He looked at the floor behind the door, and noticed that someone had placed a small box against the door. That was what had made opening the door harder than it should have been.
Now why would someone put a box here against the door? Jason wondered briefly and decided to come back to it later. He looked around. He was in a small room that seemed to be a storage room of some sort. Things were neatly stacked against the walls, as if waiting for the owner's further attention. Dust was everywhere.
There was an old foot powered Singer sewing machine, covered in dust, sitting against a wall under a window. Perhaps a sewing room at one time? Other boxes and trunks were stacked neatly along one wall, almost to the ceiling. This room had definitely become storage space, at some point.
Another door was against one wall. He opened the outside door all the way, and after moving the box, used it to prop the door open. The place had a stale and musty smell, and the lighting was limited to the doors and windows. Opening the door shed more light into the room, and more details became clear.
While he was interested in some of the boxes, he was more interested in the door leading further into the house. He crossed the room and opened it. It gave a squeal from its hinges. He found himself in a dim hallway with two more doors. One was directly across from the room he had just exited. The other was a little further down the hallway at the end of the hall. Stairs were in evidence leading down to the first floor.
He quickly checked out the other two doors. They turned out to be bedrooms. Dust was all over everything in here, too. He went into the bedroom at the end of the hall. It was the largest one. A closet was full of hanging clothes, which were years out of date, even to his untrained eye. A dresser was against the wall. A large bed made up the rest of the furnishings.
He left, re-closing the door carefully behind him. Someone either had left this house in good condition, or had made sure it looked that way when they had left. He made his way down the dimly lit staircase, and into the front of the house. He could see the front door ahead of him, and open doorways leading off to other parts of the house.
Jason quickly made his way through the downstairs. He saw that things seemed to have been left just as they were when the owner had... departed? Left? Moved? Died? He just didn't know. He finished his tour in the kitchen, and noticed that the stove was a very old model indeed, as was the refrigerator. A small table occupied the center of the room, and cabinets lined one wall. A door that he identified as the back door was located there, as well as another door, close to the refrigerator.
He opened the door. When he did, he felt a fresh wave of evil rush at him! The image of the sword in his mind flickered and dimmed, but he concentrated, and firmed it up. He beat back the new assault.
A stairwell led down. This had to be the basement. It was dark. Dankness and a foul stench rolled up through the door opening. He gagged and took a step back. He was about ready to close the door, when a whispery voice came up from below.
"Who comes?" it said.
"Hello? Who's there?" Jason yelled down.
After a moment of silence, Jason was just beginning to think he had imagined the whole thing when the voice spoke again.
"Come. Release me," the voice said, sounding a little stronger, and a compulsion was growing within him to comply.
"Stop that," Jason said, shaking off the compulsion easily.
There was a brief moment of confusion from down the stairs. Then a red glow started emanating from further inside the basement. It lit the stairs, and a portion of the basement that he could not see from his present angle.
"Who are you?" the voice asked, a bit stronger.
"I might ask you the same thing," Jason replied, trying to put his finger on the nagging feeling that he had heard this voice somewhere before.
"Come, I am trapped, and need release," the voice said, stronger still.
Mentally crossing his fingers, Jason carefully made his way down the wooden steps. Then saw the origin of the glow. A large pentagram had been inscribed onto the floor. The dead body that lay outside it looked to be mummified.
It was what was inside the pentagram that concerned him... and repulsed him.
It was a dark shape, hidden by darkness despite the red glow. It was caught within the pentagram. It was obviously trapped.
"Release me!" it demanded.
"No," Jason responded.
The creature within renewed it's psychic assault on Jason, but his mental image of the glowing sword seemed to offer him continued protection from the miasma of evil rolling forth.
Something made its way into Jason's consciousness. A name. He knew this demon.
"Morthosipian, cease," Jason said firmly.
There was a moment of total startlement from within the pentagram. Then the pressure was gone.
"Who are you, that you know my true name," the voice asked.
"A person who is curious. What happened here?" Jason asked, pointing at the body close by.
"A doting husband lost his wife, and wanted her back. He had summoned me to perform a certain ritual, and died while gathering the power. He could not contain the power. It killed him, and I have been trapped ever since. Release me!" the voice commanded at the end.
"I am not releasing you until I know better what will happen if I do. I also want to be sure you stay gone after being released. I know who and what you are," Jason said.
"I will not release the likes of you onto this world," Jason finished firmly.
Edited by TeNderLoin