In retelling this tale to others – even friends, I have run into a wall of denial from overly religious people who clearly demonstrate an inability to accept truths which differ from their children’s fairytale version of the world, and – this I find hard to believe – insist that such things (if true at all) are entirely the fault of the victims!
My friend T, who was at the center of this paranormal perfect storm, had grown up being the center of paranormal attention, and it appeared that the entity tormenting her had been with her since childhood, growing with her. In fact, one of her earliest memories was watching her younger baby sister being flung against a wall by an invisible force – and being blamed for it by her mother. To blame people for falling prey to such things, and for having abilities to see things they cannot, and to deny the facts of what happens around them, is not only foolish and malicious – but simply stupid as well. And so, I continue my recollection of events, in Part 3:
December 24: Into The Night
Saturday morning at 4 am, R called me in a panic. T had gone, car and all. I checked my bbm and found a suicide note. I immediately left home and headed to the house to search. This was the start of what was to be the longest day of my life.
I picked R up at the house, still angry at her for sleeping through T’s great escape, when she explained to me how she thought T had put her to sleep somehow, talking to her while being unable to stay awake. I later found out from T that she had taken a picture of this conversation with R on her Blackberry, and found it later. (Note the curious phenomenon that looks like an energy orb between R and T’s hand. It’s really hard to make out, and resembles a candle, but R was lying on her back when this image was captured – and so the angle of the light and flame would be incorrect.)
We took T’s notebook along. I knew the password – which ironically enough, was “hope” – and while I was driving, R found the farewell letters she had been typing to her friends and relatives. Her journal of the past year had also been deleted.
We went to the smallholding she had lived on until recently to see if she had gone there. R had to climb the gate and bypass the mechanism to let me in with the car so we could check out the cottage. Negative. Then we sped out to Seaview to a spot where we had taken sunset photos the previous week. Nothing there either. Driving back, we stopped at another spot I knew she liked. Also nothing. I can’t recall how many times we drove out between Victoria Drive and Seaview that morning, but it could easily have been four times. Then, demoralized, we headed back to the house to see if she went back there. At this time, T was still not responding to any BBM’s or calls. I knew her phone was always running low on power or airtime, so we didn’t have much hope. Unable to contact her, we were sure she would die.
When we got back to the house, it was already growing light. The house was still just as we left it, empty. In absolute desperation, I decided to do the Eyes of Heaven ritual. The ritual is intended to cause hostile entities in a place to cease plaguing a person, but also gives the user power over them. Now R is a Christian, and with her watching – skepticism plain on her face – I set about the ritual. Right at the end of it, I struck the earth with my hand three times, and then added something I improvised – I demanded from the entities present to know where T was. Immediately after the last word left my lips, my mobile phone rang in my pocket – it was a call from T’s number.
“It’s her!” I said. R’s jaw figuratively smacked the tiles.
With T on the phone sporadically, we drove in haste all the way back to Seaview, and searched every little clue she tried to give us, every likely side road, every small farming community, every hiking trail we spotted, anything at all we thought likely. It took hours. Some paths we followed into the wild bush should only have been traveled on foot, or with a 4×4 or Landrover – anything you didn’t mind getting hammered and scratched by rocks and branches and obstacles on the surface. Considering the terrain we covered, I still can’t believe my car made it through all of that without breaking down, overheating – and without getting stuck. The little 2001 Mazda 323 Sting carried us in and out of places I didn’t think had places. We went into nooks and crannies and into places I wouldn’t have dared go with a 4×4.
All the while, we called T and she called back, all the while struggling to keep her coherent and to try and get a clue to where she was, what she could see or hear in her vicinity, and if she could remember how she got there. She kept telling us she had been cut, that her wrists were sore, and that there was so much blood. She was lying on the ground outside the car, and could not get up without losing consciousness. She couldn’t see where she was, or make out what was in her area. It was just trees, grass, and the sea in the far distance.
One message she managed to text to us – disjointed and garbled, led us to the Seaview Lion Park area. She said the turn-off had been somewhere near there, but the directions were unclear and confusing. We drove around in circles for hours, trying to clarify whenever we had her on the phone. A dirt track provided R with some excitement as we traveled a way down it, decided it wasn’t where we should be – and I did a three-point turn while the car was still in motion all the way through it. Yes, it was a little reckless, but these were desperate times, and anyway she enjoyed that part and sang my praises as a “great driver” for the sole reason that it worked. Had I hit something or gone off the road, all would not have been so shiny.
All the time, I was so worried her phone battery or airtime would run out, which would effectively spell death for her. All the while, as darkness gave way to the light, and the time approached 8 am, I felt her slipping away from us. She said goodbye, and just wanted to hear my voice as she went. Unbelievably, T had for reasons unknown, taken pictures of her injuries on her phone, included below. We didn’t see these until days after we found her.
While driving, we resorted to honking the car horn while on the phone with her, to find out if she could hear the horn. At first, she couldn’t, but several times she heard the horn – and I could hear the horn reverberate back over the phone from her end with a short delay – and each time we stopped to get out and try to locate her and her car, or a turn-off – and we saw nothing but impenetrable bush, fences, and no tracks of any kind. It was extremely vexing and frustrating. Oh, how I wished for an air search!
Cyclists out for a morning ride were unconcerned and unhelpful. ‘Who cares if your friend is lying bleeding out somewhere nearby? No, I don’t know of any hiking trails nearby! Leave me alone, I’m busy!‘
We drove back and forth, sometimes visiting the same places more than once over again in case we missed something. We knew we had a devious and resolute adversary in Silace. It was 7 am already, and R was an hour late for work – and stood a pretty good chance of getting fired. But we had to keep looking – and we weren’t going to quit. We just couldn’t.
Searching for her was hard, probably the most frightening and frantic experience of my life. I could not bear the thought of her dying out there in the wilderness, alone. The prospect of that threatened to drive me mad.
We ended up on a hiking trail that led from one side of the main road near the Seaview Lion Park, passed under the main road, and extended up a narrow track on the side of a hill. We didn’t see her, but she was on the phone, and she couldn’t hear the horn. But she did see an aircraft flying overhead – and it was the same one we could see! Then we were certain she was somewhere on the other side of the main road! I had to back up about a kilometer on the narrow track as it was far too narrow (and also close to the edge of a sheer drop) to turn around, but we did it, and when we got to the bottom and turned around, we found that we had somehow taken a wrong turn and landed up inside the Lion Park itself! Fortunately it was an access road, and not one where the animals roamed!
At the exit, we turned right, and traveled up the road a short distance, spotted some telephone poles that went off into the tree line, and honked. She heard it! We turned off the main road, slowly headed onto a short tar road that went off to the side, and saw where the line of telephone poles crossed it and disappeared into the bush over a small clearing in the woods opposite a small house. We honked again, and she heard it! There were dogs barking outside, but no other sign of life. I couldn’t see anything in the clearing, but continued honking. She could still hear us! I turned off into the clearing, and immediately saw the cunning of the entity – it had led her here quite intentionally. There couldn’t be a better hiding place.
“I can hear you!”
The clearing was deceptive, because from the road it looked like a dead end. As we entered it slowly, we saw how it curved round to the right, and became a dirt track. To the left, there was what appeared to be a fire-break, down which the row of telephone poles extended. The pathway went up a moderate incline. As we progressed, I honked the horn, and ever louder, she cried over the phone “I can hear you!” After about 30 meters, with mounting excitement, we saw the top edge of a silver car roof over a low rise, and we knew we had her! As we drew closer, it occurred to me just how isolated and deserted this spot was. There was nothing – NOTHING here. Not a soul. Just us – and she was lying on the ground beside the car, in the long wild grass, wet with morning dew. We found T at exactly 8 am, sharp. The search had taken us almost exactly 4 hours.
The car was perched precariously on the edge of a steep down hill section of the fire break. The ground was sea sand, over grown with grass and weeds. She lay on a fluffy wrap, soaked with dew. Her wrists were slit and there was some blood on her arms, but not much else visible on her as she lay. She wept with joy as we rushed up to her.
We checked her out first. Her pulse was steady and the bleeding had stopped – the swelling in the cuts had choked it off. The left wrist was worse than the right, with a small part of the artery protruding from the cut, and the right looking more like a small cut that had nearly closed of its own accord. She seemed stable and coherent, just shivering and cold, and uppermost in my mind was the knowledge that getting her out of there was the priority. We decided to load her into my car before doing anything else. We had to lift her up, supporting her under her arms. She walked with us to the car and climbed in under her own power, covering herself under the wrap as she lay down on the back seat. Her clothes were drenched in her own blood. There was so much blood, any doubts of this being just a “simple” cry for attention were drowned in it.
The car battery was drained, it wasn’t going anywhere. We would have to come back for it later. Next, we checked for anything critical that had to come back with us, such as her ID documents, keys, camera etc. I discovered that the park brake was off, and the car in neutral – and it was perched atop a steep downhill! It was amazing it had not rolled off on its own yet!
The inside of the car was nightmarish. The dash and windshield were splattered with her blood. The steering was smeared red. A pool of dark semi-congealed blood covered the passenger seat and the center console featured another. Small objects drifted in it, and the floor was littered with shiny, freshly unwrapped and blood-soaked razor blades. We made sure everything was turned off, applied the park brake, put the car in gear and locked it – recovery would have to wait for later. First things first.
T begged us to not take her to a doctor, but just to dress the wounds and get her home. Knowing what the root cause of all this was, it made sense. If we took her to any doctor, they would fear “she” would try to kill herself “again”, and if we tried to explain what had happened, including all details of the paranormal activity, we would probably be locked up at the wah-wah farm as well! Calling for an ambulance would be a waste of time – people in this city die waiting for ambulances that never come. They die waiting in queues at clinics and state hospitals – and T had no medical insurance. I agreed with T, comforting her – deciding with R that it would be best to get her home, clean the wounds, and assess further actions there. At the time, while we knew she had lost a lot of blood, we did not fully realize how severe her blood loss had been.
Finding her at all was nothing short of miraculous, and believe me – as a witch and a Vampyre I do not use that word lightly. Each time I look back, I find it hard to believe that we found her, and that we found her in time. The place we found her in was so well hidden and completely concealed that her body would have lain there for months before being discovered. The irony is that the location the entity chose was less than 300 meters from a house and near to a tarred road. And we had driven past the turn-off several times earlier without even noticing it.
Finding her, in the end, had been a Herculean task – but was still only half the job. We still had to free her from the entity’s influence. And now she had also lost more than half her blood.
We stopped at a pharmacy on the way back and got some butterfly strips used to close cuts without stitching, then we went directly to the house. I hated that house at the time, to me it was a den of evil, a nest of horrors and danger – burning was too good for it. I knew we would have to be on our guard all the time now. We could not afford to leave her alone again, not for one moment.
She kept trying to explain what happened, little pieces, disjointed anecdotes and sketches, forwards and backwards in time. She said the entity had given her 20 days to make peace with her friends and family, and to say her goodbyes – and then the time had run out and it had been time to go. And the entity had been calling the shots. It had taken her for a final ride to that place, to die. It had adopted a friendly, caring attitude – it was helping her, it said. It would take away all the pain, if she only did what it said… if she just cut here and here and here…
It was difficult to get her into the downstairs bath, hot water treated with an anti-septic. Getting her undressed was a messy business, as her clothes were saturated with liquid blood. I felt we needed to cut them off rather than just undress her, but not having anything sharp enough handy, we made do. In the end, we had her in the bath, washing the dirt and blood from her pale cold skin and feeding her water, iced tea and an energy drink. Through this entire ordeal, she remained alert and coherent, although confused about how she got to the place we found her, then relating to us how the entity had driven her there, how she had no control, and how it had spoken to her, and showed her where to cut and telling her how her pain would all go away as she bled out – and about how afraid she was.
She also related how while we were out looking for her, we had driven past her on the main road! At the sight of my car, the accelerator pedal had dropped to the floor from under her foot, and the car had moved erratically to escape detection! Somehow, for whatever reason, neither I nor R had spotted her Toyota on the road. What she said next was even more shocking – she told me that it had impersonated me to get her to go along with it! For all intents and purposes, it was me she saw, and she thought I was with her. But when she saw me driving past, looking for her, she realized that the person sitting beside her was not me!
The idea that it had made use of my image and identity in this way made me feel angry, sad, and also somewhat traumatized, as it made me feel partly responsible for what happened to her, as it was her trust of me that the entity had abused to get her to that place! This, as with other things, made me wish all the more that the entity had a physical form which I could beat to a pulp and grind into dust.
Her wrists were very painful now however, as R applied the dressings to them, and we checked her for more injuries. There were none visible. We got her upstairs to her bedroom, and gently put her to bed. We had to get this matter sorted out as soon as possible. The entity had almost killed her this time, she was not strong enough to survive another attempt. I knew I was a little out of my depth, and R was waxing biblical on me, and looking to me for what to do next. I did the most sensible thing under the circumstances – I called for help. Our mutual friend S answered and said she would be there asap. My friend Orfeo was stuck at work and could only make it that evening. Another friend said this was over her head and didn’t want to be involved.
While we waited for S to arrive, R and I took turns to watch her. While she was awake, she only wanted me nearby, but when she dropped off, I took a break and went downstairs to try and get my mind in order. I worried about her car being in the bush – it might get stolen, but I thought that unlikely as it was so hard to find! Then there was the possibility that the cops might find the car covered in blood, and that they would come looking HERE. Once again, unlikely as the car was so well hidden. It was weekend, but knowing T’s popularity and hectic social life, friends of hers might drop by at an unexpected moment – and her downstairs bathroom was littered with blood-soaked clothes.
I put all of that out of my mind as I I decided to do some cleaning up and turned my attention to rinsing the clothes in the bath. Hot water, and washing powder, top, bra, panty, slacks, wrap. The water immediately ran red. The scent of her blood was almost overpowering. I squeezed each item out, and placed them back in the bath, watching the water turn opaque with blood. I took a photo, because I thought “nobody is ever going to believe this.” Then I drained the bath and filled it again – and decided after watching the water turn red again, that I would leave it that way for the night in the hope that it would drain out. I mopped the smears and mud off the floor tiles before going back upstairs.
S arrived near mid day, and we filled her in on everything. T was coherent most of the time, between spells where the entity appeared to take her over and speak through her. She too agreed that we needed to do something fast to save her life, and called her cousin, who she described as being a powerful white witch who had saved her life in the past from similar circumstances.
During this time I had several interesting conversations with the entity. It pretended to be the little boy Silace, and also when this did not sway us in our intentions, it spoke in the gruff voice we took as its own. Yes, it was her vocal chords making the sounds, but I could tell it wasn’t her using them.
It told me T was his, and that it was going to kill her. It got nasty on a few occasions, insulting me specifically, making remarks about my sexuality, my gender and other personal aspects about which T herself knew nothing. It said that she would die, and that there would be “one more rape” and that it would be “fun”. It threatened R, her toddler son who was staying at relatives, and it threatened S. It threatened me, my family, some of my friends by name, and said there would be vengeance. All this fell on deaf ears, as we continued the ritual. We knew there was no alternative but to complete the task. Even if the threats were made real, we had to. I could not leave anyone in this state, abandon them to such a fate, even if the others were to give up, even if no other help came and we had to see this through alone.
We decided it was best to perform an exorcism asap, before this thing caused her death. R came downstairs for a short break. It was less than two minutes, and when she went back up to the bedroom, we heard her cry T’s name and the sound of her feet pounding on the ceiling as she ran. We all ran upstairs, to find T on the balcony, sitting on the edge of the roof, looking confused. R was trying to get her to come down. When she saw me, she looked very confused, and came back inside willingly. She told me that I had come upstairs and called her outside to the edge of the roof. It was impersonating people she trusted to get her to do things, and she was unable to tell the difference!
As pagans and witches, while we were not comfortable with using Christian symbols, we knew it was a tried and tested method known to work effectively. I agreed to assist on the basis that it was for T’s best. A would lead the exorcism using a Catholic liturgy for exorcism. We needed a few things, salt, candles, incense, a Christian bible and a bell. We called several priests and ministers in an effort to obtain holy water. None would involve themselves. In fact, to say they ran away like frightened little children while making funny squeaking noises would be far too generous. Cowards. So much for Christian charity. What would Jesus do, indeed.
I thought it ironic that an issue which could be said to be so central to their Christian faith would be too much for them to handle – and so it was that T’s fate was left in the hands of four witches and one Christian, friends working together to save her life.
To be continued…