Knock Three Times

19. All Saints Day

                AN AMBER GOLDEN SUN peaked over the city skyline like a shy toddler behind legs of deep purple cloud, a vibrant pink halo warning of a coming storm which would soon roar in from the west like a vicious beast. The entirety of Belleville seemed placid in anticipation of the storm's wake, a soothing silence disturbed occasionally by the odd engine rumbling by in an early morning commute. The air was exceptionally crisp and tranquil in the quaint harbour town. A fresh sense of renewal carried a thick coat of morning dew, which glistened like heavenly diamonds touched by gentle rays of a peaceful sun on every surface for as far as the eye could see, including the windows of an outdated motel, settled just on the outskirts of town.

    Father Jeremy couldn't sleep if his life depended on it, a knot in his stomach warning of turmoil ahead, positive this day would be one to remember. The foreboding revelations from the strange anomaly who gently purred away on the bed next to them kept him wired, his mind racing with horrific possibilities.

    "Who was this little girl?"

    "How could she pick away his beliefs in such a short amount of time?" he wondered.

    The more he contemplated her strange abilities, the more he thought of his early Catholic teachings, countless mentors and teachers of the faith warning of false prophets and self-appointed messiahs said to mislead the masses nearing the end of days. Was her claim to divinity truly genuine, or was she something much darker and maleficent sent to lead him astray before what would surely be his darkest hour?

    It was the morning of Halloween, a significant date in Jeremy's early studies, rich in folklore, strange rituals and traditional but highly questionable customs. This was a holiday seeped in paganism, he had been taught—an evil day in which the restless dead and demons alike were granted permission to roam the earth. According to Father Theron in his many years of paranormal research, this particular day was when the veil which separates the realm of the living from the dead is at its thinnest; the one day of the year when the average Joe could make contact with the other side.

    Father Shawn Theron had lost count over the years just how many severe infestations and demonic possessions had begun with a Ouija board, a tool of the foolish in the hands of the naïve and ill educated. Most began with a child-like curiosity, the board itself a product of toy companies. How could these victims possibly take such a dire threat seriously when the average spirit board could often be found between Monopoly and Scrabble in the toy section of your average Wal-Mart? The seasoned priest had petitioned for decades to have them removed from the shelves, but to no resolve.

    As Father Jeremy recalled this conversation during the long drive from Pearson International Airport the previous day, a part of him lost hope in humanity.

    "How many people would have to die before corporate America and the like would head their warning?"

    "What would it take to convince the masses that the demonic exists?"

    "Are the Biblical warning against reaching out to the dead not enough, or was the world's populous really that desperate to put themselves in harm's way for the sheer entertainment value?"

    Ghosts and demons were considered clowns in the modern era, there to amuse and put on a show for the thrill-seeking naïve on nights like Devil's Night and Halloween, and the devilish damned were no side show carnival, if he had learned anything in his many missions.

    "What a masterful manipulator the Devil be," he thought. "Convincing mankind that he and his ilk were trivial creatures to be trifled with for mere amusement." In his enduring thirst for innocent souls, Satan's greatest tool remained the indifference of the human mind. So easy convinced—so willing to throw caution to the wind.