I am the Punisher

I am the Punisher

"Can you help us?"

Those are the words I wait for. I nod to the woman, murmuring a soothing reply. Tears glisten in the mother’s eyes as I pat her thin hand. It's an advantage to be as old as I am. She will trust me as the others have done. She will allow me into her home to commune with the spirits there, in the hopes that she and her family can find peace. I, in turn, will show her that peace comes with a price. The world has fallen away, but I have not; my mission is to show the godless that evil is out there, that it DOES exist, and that our only salvation is in Christ. I will show this family that God is not mocked.

The mother is babbling about meditation and crystals. I do not tell her that once you open a door, you cannot always control who enters. The so-called New Age is the kingdom of the Deceiver, who would have her believe that there is no darkness, only light; that there is no hell, that God will forgive the faithless. She is wrong. God only forgives those who promise to serve and honor Him. 

I walk through the house, listening to the voices of the dead. Some are happy, attached to this place by love and memory. Some are not; there is a murdered wife and a man who hung himself after his daughter married. They rush to me, begging for attention and help and I have to work hard to keep them at bay. It's good that there are so many. It means there will be more energy to draw from, when it's time.

"There is great evil in this house" I announce. The woman pales and she and her husband glance at each other. "I'm glad you've contacted me. Most of the spirits here are harmless, but there is another one; one that is not human. It wants nothing less than the complete destruction of your family.”

"A demon?"

"Yes.”

~~~

The night is as dark as a night can be and my flashlight needs a new battery. Cold wind roars through the moonless sky and I bless the earmuffs John brought me on his last trip into town. I'm getting old for this, but there is no rest for the soldiers of God.

It must always be done at a crossroads, and there must be an offering in blood. We live near a farm where you can purchase your own chickens and the farmer will slaughter them for you. I stand inside the protective circle, making the incantation, sprinkling the blood, and laying the chicken's carcass on the ground. What I've called doesn't burst forth in a flash of light; rather it oozes up out of the ground in a dark mist. When it's speaks, its voice is as cold as stone. I tell it what I want it to do, where I want it to go.

They will be harried, these frightened, unbelieving children. They will be tormented. They will endure Hell on Earth, but if they make the right choice, they need not suffer after death. Nothing in that house will be sacred or safe, so they may reach out to Christ, to our Lord's saving hand.

"Do you understand?" I ask the shadowy form.

"As you will, Lady."

~~~

When I see them again, the family looks on the verge of death. Nearly hysterical, they tell me the tale: slaughterhouse odors, objects moving, the squealing of pigs. Attacks on the mother and daughters, the family pets killed off one by one. Shadows fill the house with deathly cold; the youngest child is wasting away. "You must give your lives to Christ" I tell them. "Only He and His angels can save you from the evil in this house."

"Please!" the woman whispers. "My little girl is dying! If God can save her, then my life will be His forever."

"Mine, too" says her husband. "All of our lives will be His if He will save us."

"Then you must be brave, and do exactly as I tell you."

~~~

The casting of the demon is dramatic. The forces of evil never want to leave a place where they feed. It takes a strong family to resist them and an even stronger witch to command them. The mother is thrown about the room like a rag doll; the little girl screams obscenities in a man's voice; the house reeks of shit and roses as the angels I call arrive to do battle. The banging in the walls is so loud it sounds like the house will collapse, but eventually the activity dies down. I sink into a chair and John asks if I am all right. I tell him I am. My heart is thundering in my ears and there's blackness around the edges of my vision; the doctor has warned me about my blood pressure but if I am killed doing God's work, what does it matter? John finishes the words of the ancient rite while the family and I tremble.

I've done well. I can see the looks on their faces. They will give up the ways of the Deceiver and turn their lives over to Christ. They will swear allegiance to Him and only Him, as it should be. No more crystals or mediation, no more calling on Eastern demons, no more indulging in the illusion that they can choose without suffering. Later that night, I return to the crossroads with another offering. Fortunately, wild rabbits have been tearing up the yard again.

Standing there, watching the blood and dark mist soak into the ground, I think of my mother. She took me into the woods late at night when the moon was full, to prepare me to join the ranks of those who worship the Devil. She collected crystals; she repeated the Devil’s lies. She said she was nurturing my "gifts,  I know now that she never loved me. My eyes were opened when I met John and he brought me to God. How I laughed when I gave her directly into the tender mercies of the one she chose to follow! How I still laugh when I think that I use everything she taught me to bring the fallen to God. I pass on the gift of salvation by being the rod that chastens.

I've been doing this work for fifty years. I'm a little old lady in a cardigan sweater; if you saw me out, you would never believe it, but I am also the Punisher, the gatherer of fallen souls. If you should hear footsteps in your house when no one is around; if your lights flicker and little objects move from the places you've left them and you have bad dreams, call me.

I will make straight your path.