Deathproof

We all heard stories. Voices in the night, whispers in your ears, objects gone missing, the pulling of your bed sheets, an uncanny guttural voice from a child. We all murmured them under the covers in a sleepover, around a candle, nestling beside a campfire. But what happens when it becomes real? When the shadows gets the best of us? When friends fear our home? When the whole family sleeps in the living room petrified of the darkness? Who then we call when we realize it isn't insanity, they see it too, they hear it too? When the Ghostbusters are naught but fiction, who then we call for help? But what when the paranormal investigators run away screaming, when the medium refuses to come inside, when the priest tells you to never call again, when you can't afford to move out? When desperation takes over, you run in a quest for answers. It is at this very moment of distress, someone, somewhere, gives you this white business card that reads A.D.W. Wilde. Exorcist.