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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/999392-What-The-Hell
Rated: 18+ · Book · Horror/Scary · #2222317
Invisible matters of the mind turned real into the written word.
#999392 added November 30, 2020 at 4:59pm
Restrictions: None
What The Hell?
Daily SCREAMS!!! win

It was too much to take. Women priests promoted in the sacred order? The monastic sanctity of the purified lifestyle was at stake. With nowhere left to continue his studies without distraction, the most reverend Alphonso Spacatilli renounced the brotherhood. If becoming a hermit was what it took to advance his dissecting evil into its most basic elements, so let it be.

Two years and five months later, the deed was done, to the glory of God. The seething blackness feeding on itself trapped within the crystal jar was pure evil itself. He would use his control of that property to draw evil from the world.

Extracted just before his state sponsored death, from the bile of the most renowned serial killer known to mass media, Spacatilli had refined it with the easily obtained pituitary secretions of the basest emotions of mankind.

Protected by holy water blessed by the pope himself, prayers of virgins and the benediction of his own holy long years of life, the exile had paid off. Now, it would be a simple matter to detect and sanctify the seeds of ungodliness before stray wicked thoughts became mortal sin. Free will would no longer be encumbered by devilish distractions intent on destroying the soul.

Visions of a new Eden blossoming across the broken country engulfed the hermit’s mind, just enough of a distraction to loosen his grip on the jar. No-one but a few secret members of the old holy order willing to share their meager donations needed to survive visited the remote cave. Only they had made the arduous trip since Spacatilli had arrived.

“Are you well?”

The shock of hearing a voice in the female registers echoing into his chambers vibrated into his shaking fingertips. The crystal vile slipped silent as death from his hand. “Mother of God,” mouthed Spacatilli, fumbling to reclaim a hold before all was lost.

“No, simply Sister Rinehart, though one day I hope to see her. Brother Herald grew sick, there was no-one else to succor your physical needs, so in penance I was given the task. I did not mean to startle you so.”

Spacatilli clutched at air and found the evil vile there. A miracle had happened. The crystal jar was safe. He was not as agile as he had been in his youth. He drew the article to his bosom too quickly and with too much strength, hearing the small sound of the glass crack.

“God, in heaven, hear my beseeching prayer,” the hermit did not hesitate. Even as his humble request drew skyward, he brought the vile to his lips. His teeth drew the stopper off and he swallowed the concentrated brew of pure evil into his hallowed and sanctified body given to Christ so many years ago.

All would not be lost. Pure evil could not be released upon an unsteady world. Even the devil had a soul if much deteriorated and only subservient to that of God himself. Pure evil had no such control. Spacatilli, himself, would be the safe receptacle.

The taste swallowed was so violent, the hermit sank to his knees. Thoughts of lust, greed, anger and debauchery he had never known pulsed hot in his veins. Spacatilli felt the vomit of them rise in his throat.

“You are sick. I fear my tardiness has done this. Let me help you.” Out of charity, the pure love of Christ, and her own offering of innocent open hearted desire to help, Sister Rinhart reached out her hand to do what she could to ease the burden of the man. That simple physical connection had its effect.

Spacatilli’s body and soul combined were such a holy and dedicated tabernacle, the third time he swallowed the mixture would have successfully been the last. Nothing would have been remiss. It would have given him time to come up with a better and more final remedy from disaster than entailed his mortal existence. With his death, pure evil once again would be unleashed.

With one touch that boundary became broken. In place of a new Eden, this second Adam and Eve needed no snake, apple or warning. Pure evil spawned with their mad frenzied awareness of what they had become.

The blackness swirled inside them, feasting on that awareness, using lust, greed and all of the flashpoints of human desire. With a groan, Spacatilli attempted to strangle his Eve only to find himself consumed by his need to have her.

The ensuing violent corruption erupted into an ecstasy beyond belief. The new Adam and Eve were consumed by it. Pure evil could run rampant and free. World war, all manner of sin would know no bounds.

Except for the small space of a moment which took the fractured reality to settle in place. The passing of the union of Spaccatelli and Rinehart gave time its necessary last gasp.

Heaven shuddered. The devil was given a new task.

Hell has a new home, now, guarding its most precious treasure, the cave where pure evil dwells. Here is where the darkest deeds and evoked transgressions of Satan’s most intimate minions feed and feast, thus weakening the strength of the dark roiling cloud of pure evil.

Mankind is self centered enough not to notice the hiccups of new darkness and turmoil appearing like pus from boils infecting the land. Men and women have a way of adapting to most any composition only requiring denial to be enforced as a guiding hand.


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/999392-What-The-Hell