I Have Friends in Holy Spaces

5: Forgive Me Father, For I Have Wheat Thins

   The lights were off as we entered; only the silhouettes of the furniture and the shimmer of our tree ornaments could be seen from me. Our star had not been placed at the top of the tree yet, it was December 21; the Iero family had a tradition where on Christmas Eve you would place the star on the tree before opening presents.

    My hand roamed the wall, searching the light switch. Once I had found it, I flicked the switch, but nothing happened; the power was dead. "Probably consumed by the entity," Father Way explained, the lot of us nodding. There was a low hum that would circulated through the house; it wasn't exactly in the room we were in now but could be heard through like vents and stuff. The darkness and the hum combined scared the shit out of me, though I wouldn't admit it aloud.

We past the living room and entered the kitchen, diverting Pete away from our line. He walked in and started opening my cabinets and drawers, gasping when he opened a specific one and pulled out a box. "You have wheat thins? You pathetic little nard, Frank," Pete half whispered. Rolling my eyes, I made my way to him, grabbing the box and placing it back in cabinet, closing its door.

   "I don't have wheat thins. My parents do," I said, still walking throughout the house. I didn't know if anybody were following me and I didn't really care, we were in my house now and I needed some quiet time anyway.

  While everybody roamed my kitchen for food like the hungry bastards they were, I walked to my Dad's office, to be alone for a bit in the haunted house. I'm a bit of an introvert so I can only take being with people for a certain amount of time; going to find some space to be alone in is always a godsend for me, so I can be with my own thoughts and not somebody else's for a while.

Since the demon seemed to be only haunting my room, everything in my Dad's office was fine. I like his office, it was a medium sized space with a perfect amount of clutter on his desk and everything else pretty clean. His rosary hung from a crucifix placed in here; we have a crucifix in about every room in the house.

I sat down in his chair and took in my surroundings, letting the familiar silhouettes of paper stacked on paper and drawers overflowing with whatever he would shove in it greet me like an old friend. The clamor in the kitchen was softly heard; sometimes it would be louder with Pete's shrieking about food. I opened my phone and checked the time, 9:48, and none of us haven't even had the balls to go to my possessed room.

   I wonder what the demon was doing in my room to be honest. Like it threw my bed out the window and hit Pete in the head with one of my books. For all I know, it's just lounging in there like a Satanic teenager. In the distance, I heard muffled footsteps creak against the carpeted floor and I faced the direction it came from, seeing that it was Father Way who entered.

"I was trying to find your room..." He trailed off and I looked at him, smirking, "Aren't priests not supposed to lie? You could easily find my room with the humming." He raised his hands in defeat and smiled shyly, sitting down in a nearby chair, "You caught me. I saw you were in here and thought you might needed some company that weren't your friends."

I laughed silently at that part, it was true, "Aren't you observant? So tell me," I turned the chair around to have my whole body facing him; I read somewhere it showed you were interested in conversation and other shit, "Have you've done an exorcism before?"

Father Way shook his head, "Surprisingly, no. Like I've been taught what to do and how to deal with it in case it ever happens, but despite all the murders and such, this is a pretty sleepy town for demonic activity." "Well I don't know whether or not I should be happy to be your first," I nodded along to his words. He was right, the town was a bit sleepy, even the murder rate was starting to fall because people were getting tired. When you roam the streets at night, you might still get a bit apprehensive, but it wouldn't be full blown anxious to get back.