Deliver Us From Evil...

Deliver Us…From Evil…

Prologue

It was April 17, 1925. The people of Hartford were devastated-Fr. Michael Hancock, pastor of St. Pius’ Catholic Church, was murdered by John Sanford, along with his parishioners. It was a mystery, and they wanted to know why this shocking brutality was happening to their small town. Everyone knew John Sanford. He had dark black hair, pale skin, and light blue eyes, and he was known for his attractiveness. They knew him as being kind and generous, always wanting to assist people with their needs. But what they didn’t know- was that he was a devil worshipper. John was formally a Roman Catholic, and attended the church regularly, with his wife and children. He was in tune with the Lord, and he never stopped ceasing to pray. He loved his wife and his children, more than life itself. And he helped out with the locals, for charity and similar things of the sort. But, everything changed as soon as he discovered the cult. The leader of the Satanic cult was James Brewer, and not very many people knew that he even existed. No one, to be exact. John Sanford was struggling in life- he lost his job, and had to declare bankruptcy. And in turn, his son was diagnosed with heart disease, at such a young age. He prayed to God that his life would improve, and there were no changes whatsoever. But on one day in March, a man unexpectedly shows up on his front porch with a black trench coat, a top hat, and black leather gloves. The man had an eerie look about him. Almost as if he couldn’t be trusted. He knocked on his front door, and John answered it.

“Hello, Mr. Sanford. My name is James Brewer.”

“And, who are you to show up on a day like this one? At, 5 o’clock in the morning?”

The man nodded his head, as if he understood where John was leading this conversation. He pulled out a scroll from the inside of his coat, and handed it to him with a feathered ink pen.

“John-I know you are going through some things that are hard to understand.”

“How do you know about my personal life? Have you been, stalking me?”

The man shook his head, and grinned at him politely, showing courtesy.

“No. I just, know these things, John. Here- I want you to sign this contract at the bottom. And I wouldn’t pass this one up, if I were you.”

John read the contract, and it stated: ‘This contract is meant for you to have a peaceful, enjoyable life- without any despair, sadness, or problems. And all you are required to do is sign the paper, with your own blood. It is very simple, and there is not much pain involved.’ Then, at the very bottom, in small print- it said: ‘By signing this paper, you are lawfully paying the price, of selling your soul…’ John had no choice- if he wanted to change his life around, this seemed, and was, the only option to him.

“Okay-give me the pen, please.”

The man handed the pen over to John, and he cut his wrist with the point. He then signed the contract, and the blood showed permanent on the scroll.

“Thank you, Mr. Sanford. If you have any questions…then, let’s keep in contact. Have a splendid day, sir.”

And before John even had a chance to ask him if it was possible to reverse the contract, he left with his horse…

Detective Jacob Smith of the Hartford Police Department, was studying the crime scene with his partner, Jason Carter.

“Jesus Christ almighty, we gotta get these bodies out of here,” Jacob said, looking at the victims, lying on the church floor.

“Yeah, you got that right,” Jason said. With their guns drawn, they slowly entered the church, checking to see if there was anyone with them. Then, they looked to the front of the church, and their eyes were wide open. On the floor was a pentagram, drawn in blood. The priest was sprawled out, with his arms to his sides, and had a paintbrush in his right hand. They faced each other, and Jason shrugged his shoulders in disappointment.

“Wow- damn, this is terrible. Absolutely terrible,” Jacob said, folding his arms.

“Yeah, you’re telling me. Looks like a ritual killing, doesn’t it?” his partner asked him. Jacob was in utter disbelief. Things like this never occurred around here- not since the 1800s. How would they ever investigate?

“Sure does. Hey- you sure there’s no one lurking around in here?”

“Yeah, of course.”

They were just about to leave, when they heard the faint whisper of a child reciting the Rosary, repeatedly. And the voice was almost inaudible.

“Wait! Jason, don’t leave yet! Do you hear that? Who is that?”

“I don’t know, Jake- let’s go find out. Sounds like it’s coming from downstairs.” They walked slowly down the steps, and they listened carefully to where the child’s voice was coming from. They found a small storage closet in the corner of the room, where the child was located.

“Hey- anyone in there?” Jason asked, knocking on the door. No response came from the child.

“Hello?” he asked again- and this time, the child screamed, kicking the door with his foot. They opened the door, and saw a brown haired boy with green eyes and a scrawny build, trembling. He had his face buried in his arms, and was crying frantically.

“No! Don’t kill me, Daddy!”

“Shh…we’re the police. We’re not here to harm you, we’re here to help you.” Jason said, holding his hand out to the frightened child. They took out their badges, and showed him. He started to calm down, and the crying stopped. He looked up at them, with solemn, pleading eyes.

“What’s your name, kid?” Jacob asked him.

“I’m- I’m Jonah.”

“And, do you know the man that did all this?”

The boy nodded.

“Yes- I’m his son…”

The boy took Jacob’s hand, and he helped him up. They exited the church, entered the horse and buggy carriage, and left…

They brought him into the police station, and sat him down in the sheriff’s office, hoping to get information from him. The sheriff casually walked into the room, and sat down at his desk, and the two detectives stood behind the boy. The sheriff was short and chubby, with blonde hair and brown eyes. He didn’t have a friendly look about him, either.

“So…what do we have here, folks?”

The sheriff twiddled his thumbs, and looked at the boy with curiosity in his eyes.

“Well, Sheriff. This boy, claims to be our suspect’s son. He was in this, closet as long as we were there. Maybe even longer.”

“Hmm…nice information, Jacob. Now- how about you, young man?” The sheriff pointed at the boy, and raised his eyebrows.

“What’s your father’s full name?”

“John Sanford.”

“Ohh…him. And, can you tell us what happened today in the church?”

The boy rocked his chair back and forth.

“Yes, sir. My father came in unannounced, and murdered the parishoners first…”

The boy continued to explain what he witnessed…

John Sanford barged into the church.

“Freeze! On the floor- NOW!”

Everyone immediately dropped to the floor. And without warning, he shot each one of them, one by one. Blood spilled everywhere, and splattered on the walls-and the innocent people died instantly. John walked toward the priest and he was speechless.

“So…Fr. Michael- are you ready?”

The priest appeared confused, not knowing what to do.

“Ready for what?”

John started to laugh maniacally, and tugged his hair with his hands.

“For what you’re about to do.”

He removed a knife from his pocket, and forcefully grabbed the priest’s wrist.

“Where’s your buckets at?!”

“Uhh…” the priest stalled, trying to find a choice of words.

“I asked you a question, damn it!! Where are they?”

“They’re in the sacristy!”

John searched for them, and found one in the closet. He then took a large paintbrush from the drawer, and returned to the priest.

“Give me your wrist- give me it!”

He took he priest’s arm once again, and cut it with the knife. The priest winced at the pain. John poured out the blood oozing from his wrist into the bucket, but not enough to kill him. He needed him alive, for what he was about to do.

“Here’s the brush.”

John closed the cut with gauze, and handed the priest the brush.

“Dip your brush into the bucket, and draw a pentagram with a circle around it.”

“No- I won’t! I live for….”

John took his face into his hands, and gave him a grimace stare.

“Do it! Now!”

The priest didn’t want to risk his life over it, so he drew the pentagram on the stone floor with his dominant hand. When he was finished, John pointed his gun at him. He motioned for him to lie down on the pentagram.

“Please don’t. I’ve known you and your family my whole life, I…”

“Shut up…put your arms to your sides, and your feet together. Do it!”

The priest instantaneously did as he was imposed.

“Bye-bye, Fr. Michael…”

John waved at him, and shot the remaining priest over and over again, until he finally perished. He sadistically smiled at the priest, and sneaked out of the church without anyone noticing that he was there…

“And that’s what happened, sir. I hid in the closet as soon as the killing started, and stayed there. There was a voice inside my head that told me, to go and hide.”

“Wow. You’re so brave to witness all of that. Do you know why your father did this?”

There was a brief pause in their conversation.

“Yes. But I doubt that you’ll believe me. I was up at five AM, and a man knocked at our door. He looked really strange to me, too. He handed my father this scroll- and I think it was a contract. My father signed it with his own blood, and then the man left. And since then, he’s changed. He never says he loves me anymore, or my mother. He never spends any time with us, he only stays up in his room. I don’t know what’s happened to him! It’s like he’s, possessed or something!”

The boy started to cry, and the detectives comforted him.

“It’s alright, Jonah. Where’s your father now?”

“At home, with mother. I wouldn’t go near him, if I were you. He’s never in a good mood, anymore. Plus, our house has changed, also. In every room, there’s like this awkward presence. It almost seems like its haunted. It probably is, too. And oftentimes, you would see these shadows lurking around. If you’re lucky enough.”

“Well, we’ll go check him out, if that’s alright with you.”

The boy gave them his acknowledgement, and the detectives along with the sheriff, left the police department. They arrived at the residence an hour later. The address was 295 7th street. They knocked on the door, and a woman answered.

“Hello there. And who are you fine gentlemen supposed to be?” The woman kindly grinned at them, and welcomed them into the home.

“We’re from the police department, and we’re just going to check out your property- if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course. Come on in, if you may.”

They entered the home. It was neat, and had nicely polished furniture in every room. It wasn’t exactly a home for the wealthy, but it was manageable. They searched the perimeter for any clues, and for him. He wasn’t there, as far as they knew. And there was truly negative energy all over the house.

“Mrs. Sanford- have you noticed any negative energy in here? Anything odd or strange?”

“Well, then. Yes I have. Since the local priest isn’t alive, have you found any others lately? Our family has been devout Catholics for years now, and we won’t allow any Protestant denominations in here. We never have.”

“We understand, Mrs. Sanford. And we’ll try to find one for you ASAP.”

The woman thanked them, and then they returned to the police station…

The detectives returned Jonah to his home, and he went inside. It was a stressful day for him, explaining everything that he saw at the crime his father committed. His father came home for the night, and was sitting in the living room chair. It was the first time he was out of his room in months.

“Good evening, Father.”

“Oh hello, Jonah. I was just reading the paper. Would you like to join me?”

“Sure, Father.” Jonah sat on the couch next to his father. He was unusually pleasant tonight, more pleasant than before. And his eyes were so gaunt, and his skin was so pale. Now, his appearance changed, and it frightened Jonah to the point where he was about to leave the room. His father grabbed his arm, and stopped him abruptly.

“Where are you going, Jonah? Why are you leaving so soon?”

Jonah didn’t know what to say. He wanted to run away, but his father wouldn’t let him. He was trapped with his father, and he couldn’t leave.

“Oh. I wasn’t going anywhere, Father. I apologize for being so rude.”

“It’s fine, Jonah. So why were you gone for so long today? Where were you all of this time?”

Jonah didn’t know how to respond. If he told his father he was at the police station, he would harm him- possibly kill him.

“Just out, I guess. Why weren’t you home?”

“I was at a meeting with my colleagues. Did I worry you?

“Yeah, I guess. It doesn’t matter. I’m going to retire for tonight. Have a good evening, Father.”

“You too also, son.”

Jonah left the room, and went into his bedroom. He got under the covers, and lay down in his bed, thinking about what happened in the church and in the police station. Then he wondered what was going to happen now. How everything was going to fall into place. Would his father get arrested for murdering all of those innocent people? Would they get justice served? He didn’t know what the future held either. Then, the candles flickered, distracting his thoughts. Objects were moved around the room from his shelves. Books were thrown onto the floor, and the windows slammed open and shut. His door was locked, so there was no escape from this nightmare. He thought he was dreaming. He needed to get out of there. Now. Or else he would probably cease to exist. Whatever or whoever was doing this, would fatally harm him.

“Stop! Who’s doing this? Get out of here, please!”

He heard people whispering. Only they sounded nothing like people- they sounded like things. Creatures, demons, anything of the sort. He thought it was just in his head, that he was only imagining things. But then, his mother came in.

“Jonah! Something’s happened to your father-he’s moving uncontrollably! Hide in your closet, bring a crucifix, anything you can do. Before something worse happens!”

“Alright, Mother. Straight away,” he said, as he hid in the closet. He felt something brush against him, and he screamed. He tried to open the closet door, but it wouldn’t nudge. He was trapped once again. His mother came into his room at once, and tried to open the door with him, as well. It finally opened for them, and he ran out of the closet as quick as he could, and they moved out of the bedroom, into the living room. When they got there, however, there was more than one man in the room. They had eyes as black as night, and were wearing black trench coats. Then, he saw the man who turned his father into who he has become. James Brewer, the leader of the Satan worshippers…

“Get out of here!! Why are you ruining our family?!” his mother screamed at them. James walked slowly toward them with a ruthless smile on his face, and folded his hands together.

“Well, well, well. Hello there, Mrs. Sanford. You seem to look a little, upset. I won’t harm your family. Truly, I won’t. It’s just- your father Jonah, and your husband Mrs. Sanford, is very important to me. He advises me in my duties, and is very special to my group of men, as you can see. Oh, and one more thing- you might not see your father anymore, Jonah. He is coming with me.”

Jonah clenched his fists in rage. As much as he disliked his father after what had happened, there was no way that this man was going to take him away.

“No! I won’t let you! You’re the devil-go to Hell!” he defended his father, and stood by his mother’s side. In retaliation, James lifted him up off the ground, choking him.

“How dare you call me that, you little wretch! And I’ll make sure that you and your mother get what’s coming for you- wait and see.”

He raised his hands up in the air, and his eyes rolled back into his head. He started to chant an ancient spell that brought demons into households, but it was impossible to stop him. Once the spell was recited, then there was no turning back. Once the demons have infiltrated the home, they would never leave. And that was happening to them, now. Jonah wanted to reverse it somehow, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. It was too late for them, anyway. When he finished the spell, Jonah felt an evil presence enter their home. He wished now that there was a priest at the moment, but it wouldn’t help that much. At least not to them. The room began to shake, and blackened shadows surrounded them. It felt as if there was no air, to begin with.

“Well, problem solved. I shall leave here, and chances are- I won’t return. Have a good night.”

The men vanished, along with his father. He couldn’t accept this. His father was gone forever, and there was nothing he could do to stop them. There was nothing he could do to bring him back. The demons were trapped in his house- he could feel them, still. And he doubted that they would ever leave...

They moved out of the house a week later- the demons would not stop harassing them. They packed their bags, and they decided to sell the house. But little did they know, that this was their biggest mistake. For the legend states- ‘that whoever steps foot in this house, no matter how much protection they have, will never be able to escape. The demons have more power now, and will never let anyone out ALIVE…’