rites of exorcism

The exorcist sighed. “I am afraid the solution is that you will have to move.”

“That is what the feng shui expert said too,” the wife declaimed.

The exorcist twitched, said nothing.

“I’d like to know why,” her husband rumbled.

“The house doesn’t like you haunting it.”

“But we own it!”

“It doesn’t agree. Hence the ghost-like events it is causing to force you to leave.”

“I said we shouldn’t have painted the bathroom that shade of puce,” the husband grumbled.

“It was in all the trade magazines as the in colour for this year,” his wife snapped.

And the exorcist carefully escaped the room as they began yelling at each other again.

Pumpkinhead: The Metamorphosis 

This model kit available in the late 1990s was based on concept art for a sequence that was ultimately scrapped from Pumpkinhead II: Blood Wings, which would have seen the demon truly live up to the film’s namesake and spawn wings in the third act. 

The concept of a winged Pumpkinhead was also going to make it into the Dark Horse comics miniseries Pumpkinhead: The Rites of Exorcism, again from original co-creator Gary Gerani. Ultimately, the comic was cancelled before the finale issue that would have seen this idea take shape. 

Instead, all we have is this statue to give us a taste as to what a winged Pumpkinhead would look like. Given how great the piece is, it’s still hard not to think about what it could have looked like on the screen, had Blood Wings ever been given anything approaching the right amount of money to pull it off.

Rites of Exorcism - character notes

“What are you waiting for? I have six tables that need cleaning,” the manager screamed up at him. “Clean tables. Stare at customers on your own time!”

Connor said nothing, taking a tray and cloth to the tables at the Greasy Spoon. Customers laughed, the owner claimed the name wasn’t ironic and that the views online proved that people didn’t believe in truth in advertising anymore. He thought it was a joke, but it was difficult to be sure. Connor used to be able to make jokes, but now it was hard to find the place they came from.

People ate, talked, a roiling din of sound over silence. But the woman at table four stood too quickly, grabbed her purse and coat to go to the washroom, heading to the bathrooms. She might have looked afraid, but the bathrooms would be cause enough for fear. She veered too quickly to the back door and outside, and the man who had been with her put money down for their drinks and followed. He was big, even taller than Connor, and far bigger in every other way. But he wasn’t slow for any of that, and was outside and asking her questions even as she put her coat on.

Connor followed. Had the manager not been busy and demanded to ask why, he could not have said. Would not have said, even if her expression, his expression: they were memories he did not want to own.

The man was screaming, half-wordless and red-faced. The woman was trying to pull away, one shoe already off. She’s missed the muscle under the fat, missed the speed, trusted too much in the lights behind the diner and that strangers might be kind.

“Let her go.”

The man turned. Connor licked his lips. The man smiled, looked him over. Saw a build suited only for running, missed everything else in turn. “Get lost, boy. This isn’t your affair.”

He twisted her arm, not even having to look when she tried to break free. He’s done this before. The knowledge was inescapable, and Connor escaped the only way he could. He moved.

The man hit the dumpster a moment later with a sharp rattling thud.

The woman stared at the man, moved toward him as though to comfort by instinct, stopped. Moved closer to him anyway. Away from Connor. “I barely saw you move. What are you?”

“No one. Nothing,” Connor said. He didn’t move. It never helped, if he moved or if he was still.

“You threw Zed like –.” The woman’s breath caught, colour draining from her face in time. She bared her throat. “What are you waiting for??” she whispered, voice cracking.

“What?” Connor asked.

“You’re not a vampire?”

Connor blinked, once. “Vampires don’t exist. Even I know that.”

“I just – I thought – you were so fast.” She flattered. “You should go. Before their are questions. Please.”

Connor set the cloth he’d brought with him on the ground and nodded. He had nothing inside the diner, and nothing anywhere else. He turned and walked away. He’s eaten the supper special an hour ago, and the energy from that was enough to change his skin slightly, his eyes and hair as well. It would be enough to confuse people in this town, and he’d be gone by morning to some other place.

The beauty of buses was that they could take you anywhere, and you could enjoy the journey and never see it as running away. But he remembered the screams of his family, fleeing into the darkness that hid nothing at all. He thought the woman might have been more scared if he told the truth, but he didn’t know. All he knew was that he had never met another changeling and had even less idea about what being one meant.

What are you waiting for? Twice he’d been asked that tonight, but he thought it didn’t mean anything at all. Not unless you knew what you were for at all.

He slipped into the hostel, took his small backpack and sleeping bag, and headed to the bus stop to wait for morning. Connor almost smiled as he walked to the bus stop. Vampire. No one had ever called him, that, but he thought it would be nice. To exist in the dark and be part of it, to charm others into forgetting. To make yourself forget as well. That was a power he’d give anything to acquire, but a changeling could forget nothing at all.


(Kor. 나례, Chin. 儺禮, lit. exorcism rite)

Narye refers to an exorcism ritual held at the end of the year meant to chase away the bad spirits of the passing year before receiving the new one. It had originated in China and was brought to Korea during the Goryeo Dynasty. At the palace, municipal offices and local communities, people wore masks, held ritual implements, chanted incantations, and made chasing gestures to expel the evil spirits of the old year.

At court  the ceremony consisted of music, song, and dance, performed by 78 members of the troupe - 24 Jinja children (boys from age 12-16 wearing masks and red gowns), 12 Jipsaja house stewards, 22 Goingin (one of whom acted as Bangsangshi, a central figure in expelling evil spirits, and another as a Chansa chanter=an incantation reciter) and 20 Gogakkun consisting of 4 people carrying flagpoles, 4 people playing the tungso vertical flute, and 12 people carrying drums.

The song performed during the ritual was called Narye ka (Song of Exorcism).

In 1906, Clara Germana Cele was a Christian student at St. Michael’s Mission in Natal, South Africa. For some reason, Cele prayed and made a pact with Satan when she was sixteen years-old, and just days later, Cele was overtaken by strange impulses.

 She was repulsed by religious artifacts like crucifixes, she could speak and understand several languages of which she had no previous knowledge, and she became clairvoyant regarding the thoughts and histories of the people around her.

Nuns who attended to Cele reported that she produced horrible, animalistic sounds; she also levitated up to five feet in the air. Eventually, two priests were brought in to perform an exorcism. 

Cele tried to strangle one of the priests with his stole, and over one hundred and seventy people witnessed her levitating as the priests read Scripture. Over the course of two days, the rites of exorcism successfully drove the dark spirits from her body. (Source)

I got out of the car slowly, took a few deliberate breaths and forced myself to relax. Melody Chambers drove her car like an ambulance chaser seeking a new case, though in her case it was more being a reporter and hunting down stories. The city of Huntington wasn’t too large – last I checked about a hundred thousand people lived here – but it was enough that I’d never heard of the empty place in the suburb of Bayview until she told me about it, and only knew of the suburb vaguely. The owners had simply packed up, and moved, didn’t even put it on market and left the house half-full of furniture behind and a distinct lack of a forwarding address. The overgrown lawn had piqued her interest given the well-tended neighbourhood and the lack of any graffiti on the blue picket fences was more than a surprise given how empty the house was..

Empty wasn’t the right word: desolate was much closer. The yard was badly overgrown but what caught my eye was the rotting old oak tree and the remains of a swing hanging from it. I glanced behind me as Connor got out of the back seat of Melody’s car. He’d noticed the tree as well, pale eyes wide as he stared at the home beyond it. Connor was basically my ward-assistant-friend. If anyone asked to learn more, I just tell them it’s complicated and leave it at that. He wasn’t human, but I didn’t hold that against him: most things in the world aren’t human.

“Well?” Melody snapped as she got out of the driver’s door. “You’re the exorcist, Mr. Nel. Do you plan to just stand around?”

I bit back the urge to say yes. I don’t like reporters, but no one with secrets does. Which might explain why I’ve never met anyone who liked them. She’d found me after a case that turned out to be just leaky pipes, insisted the public needed to know more about exorcism, that her piece for Vanity Fairy wouldn’t involve a film crew and offered to pay me. I said yes, mostly because I’d been stiffed on the last job. The last three hours have been a series of mounting regrets.

“How long ago did they leave?” I asked.

“A little over a month. Do you need to know more about them?” she asked, not looking down at any notes.

“This is bad,” Connor offered up softly.

I nodded and gestured for him to remain by the car as I began to walk around the property. None of us were dressed like estate agents, but I doubted the neighbours would call the police. And if they did, they’d probably leave me alone. There were only three other practising exorcists in the city, and they’d have taken one glance at the tree and ran away. Some of that would have been pratical common sense.

“What is it?” Melody asked as she walked beside me. People don’t see what they don’t know how to see. Which is good since otherwise I’d get far less work. Exorcism doesn’t pay bills in the way being  a witch or warlock can.

“The oak tree is rotting apart. No one hangs a swing from a rotting oak tree.”


“That means this isn’t a haunting. Definitely a poltergeist since they can influence the real world.”

“I know what that are,” she said.

No, you don’t Or you’d run. I didn’t say the words out loud, because they sounded too corny even inside the comfort of my skull. I sighed.

Her eyes narrowed. “It could be haunting doing an illusion: have you considered that?”

“I am hard for ghosts to fool with illusions; I’ve yet to meet even a poltergeist that could fool Connor.”

She glanced back. Connor is tall and thin, long dark hair making him seem even thinner, his pale eyes always wide and seeming unfocused. You don’t think of strength when you see Connor, which he didn’t mind at all. “And a poltergeist means?”

“It means you stay in the car.”

That went down about as well as expected. “I am a reporter and paying you!”

“And I am being paid to do a job. Part of that involves ensuring you don’t die.”

She snorted at that as I walked back toward Connor. The circle wasn’t much, but it was holding as I reached him. Which meant the poltergeist was trapped inside the house. If it wasn’t, we’d be gone and I’d be calling anyone I could for back-up. I looked at Connor. “The house?”

“There is no one inside it. And at present no one in either house beside it or the one behind it. It’s not as true about the homes on the other side of the street, but the house is having an affect on them all the same.”

“Well?” Melody looked at me. “You’re an exorcist. Isn’t it your job to quell things like this?”

It is one my my regrets that I don’t have a face that scares people. Factor in being short and a bit too chubby, with eyes people describe as plain no matter how I glare at them, and the recipe wasn’t for dangerous at all. Sometimes it was useful. Mostly it wasn’t.

“There’s definitely a cold spell near the door,” Connor added.

“Thank you.” I pushed the gate open and walked toward the front steps.

“Thank you?” Melody repeated. “It’s freezing and you didn’t notice? You’re not that overweight.”

I ignored her. walked up the white porch stairs, and flexed my will. Melody let out a small gasp, demanded to know where the cold had gone a moment later. I worked on ignoring her some more and studied the door. Whatever was inside had to know I was here, but nothing had tried to harm me yet. I had almost decided that was a good sign when glass and wood splintered overhead and a sofa hurled out of a bedroom wall and down toward us.

I rolled across the lawn moments after Connor yanked us both backwards. scrambled to my feet with a nod to him.

Melody Chambers took a few more moments to find her feet. “How – what- you were beside the car,” she said to Connor, and then turned her gaze on me. “And the grass didn’t scrape your clothing at all.”

She had a few grass stains on her jeans and jean jacket, and a few cuts on her face. Nothing large, but it was enough. I caught her left hand in my right and spoke three words in Enochian. legends claimed the language had been invented to talk to angels, but it worked to do basic exorcisms just fine. Her hand spasmed in my grasp and Melody let out a gasp, then another as she was herself again.

“Aiden?” She shook her head. “I felt –.” She shook her head again.

“Connor, get her back to the car.” This time Melody didn’t protest and I walked toward the house. My left arm was itching under the bandages I kept wrapped about it. For once I was in agreement with myself as I walked up to the front steps. Quell, she’d said. Quelling involved force.

“Let me in or I burn this home to the ground,” I said, and the front door opened at the promise. Which meant the poltergeist was smart. Again, I almost considered running. I might have anyway, except the reporter would end up asking even more questions. I walked on the stairs and into the home, drawing the circle I’d walked around the house in tighter. All exorcism is a circle to bind, a will to banish. As with most other paranatural things, it sounds far simpler that it is.

Especially when what you’re trying to exorcise can animate an entire home against you. Burning it to the ground was the best option, but I felt I had to try other ones first. If only to avoid being in any newspaper headlines.

Setting Flavour Bits

Third Eye News is a news channel focused firstly on the paranormal and paranatural parts of the world. The have between 3-5 genuine psychics on their payroll and their reporters and camera crew have, on occasion, arrived at events even before they unfolded. They generally beat the police to Weird News and if you find them refusing to approach a potential story that pretty much means everyone else should be running away as fast as they can.

While they were initially about being impartial and ‘just the facts’ the relative lack of stories and the need of the public – and to turn a profit – means that the channel has become more sensationalized over the years and contains supernatural drama shows among its programming now along with a soap opera and a weird western involving zombies and gunslingers. This leads many detractors to dismiss it out right, but when TEN is on form they get stories and truth out about weirdness faster and better than anyone else. ‘The Fluff Pays For The Real’ is their unofficial motto at present.

Rites of Exorcisms - character notes


Aiden is a good person in spite of everything. Or to spite it, some days. He doesn’t talk about his family beyond that his parents died. That they were murdered goes unsaid. That his parents marked him goes unsaid. His summer vacations aren’t spoken of at all.  

Most children remember their first summer vacation as that. Aiden was five when his parents took him to the arctic for a vacation and taught him to sit chilla. The ritual was at least as old as Persia by that name. You sit forty days without food and emerge from the trance at holy man. As six he did it without liquids as well. As seven he did it without sleep as well. He was ten before he could sink deeply enough into the trance to manage it without air as well. His vacation when he was eleven was to Yellowstone, where his parents drugged him at the end of the chilla and bound a fire elemental into his body.

He didn’t die from that. To this day he has no idea why. It took three years to come to terms with the changes to him, to the scars and the power and what lay inside him. By then his parents were dead, but they’d also taught him everything he needed to know about being an exorcist. He thinks the good he does with the knowledge and power he has been given outweighs any evil that was done to him. His grandmother does not agree. They haven’t spoken in four years.

Aiden crouched down on the wooden floor of the upper hallway and pressed his hand gently onto a floorboard. Bernard Smith was watching him intently, so Aiden touched it again, running the fingers of his right hand over four other boards before standing and walking over them again. The first board creaked. He moved in a slow circle around them in the hallway, back brushing the walls, then walked over them for the third time. Nothing creaked at all.

“The third board creaked the first time,” Aiden said.

Bernard let out a relieved breath. “That’s what I’ve been trying to explain to Vera. Between the floorboards and the pipes, something is wrong in our home. I’ve talked to people who have seen ghosts and I know floorboards and pipes aren’t normally what a real ghost does but –.”

“You replaced the floorboards last month. And the pipes were checked by a plumber two weeks ago.” Aiden smiled as Bernard stared at him. “It was in the email you sent me.”

“Oh, of course. Is it a haunting? Can you help?” he pressed. “I asked two other exorcists but they refused to even come out and Vera doesn’t want the neighbours knowing in case it lowers the property value.”

Aiden could hear Vera Smith saying something to Mel downstairs. Mel was still explaining how being an online journalist for Noosewire was the same as working for a local paper, and from the sounds of it not succeeding at all. “Can I ask why your wife didn’t want me to even come inside?”

“She was scammed by a fake psychic once and someone pretending to be an exorcist once scammed her family as well.”

Aiden nodded. Unlike being a witch or wizard, it was far easier to fake being a psychic or an exorcist. He didn’t know any psychics personally, but his father had told him that sometimes the skill just wasn’t focused enough, or the psychic didn’t understand what they saw. It wasn’t as common with exorcists but there were always people who exorcised a single ghost – which most anyone could do with a small haunting – and were convinced that made them the real thing.

“Try the floorboard,” he offered.

Bernard walked over the floor boards slowly, then moved beyond them toward the guest bathroom. A board creaked underfoot.

Aiden walked over, circling Bernard and the board. Exorcisms were easy to do, if one knew how to do them. He made a circle in the world, focused his will after. The effect was akin to removing ripples from the surface of a pond and definitely worked in this case.

Bernard walked back over the original spot, then back to the second cleansed area. “You did something?”

“I did. A proper exorcism will mean circling the home and you and your wife might want to be outside.”

“Will it be dangerous?”

“I have no idea; this is a new one for me.”

Bernard reached into a pocket, handed me a wad of cash and walked downstairs. I followed as he cut Mel off mid-flow. “We are going out for dinner and Aiden is going to take care of the problem.”

“Is he now?” Vera asked. She was shorter than I, not that you’d know it.

“Please,” he added.

She accepted the coat he handed her. “I’m not trying to be difficult, but I have known scam artists. I don’t want our money wasted on such a thing.”

“If you feel the home is still haunted with the month, I will refund the money. It is on my website,” Aiden added, and succeeded in handing a business card over. It was white on black, and just read ‘Aiden Nel, exorcist’ followed by the office phone number and the website.

He had no idea if it was the website or the actual card that did it, but Vera nodded and walked out the front door with her husband, listing off restaurants and suggesting he do a booking. Bernard waited for Aiden and Mel to join them on the porch, locked the door and headed to their smart car with his wife. He informed her he had already booked them in at one of the ones she listed as they reached the car, and the Smith’s getting into it drowned out whatever reply Vera made.

“This was her not trying to be difficult?” Mel demanded. “We only got in the door at all because her husband came downstairs and she examined my press pass four times.”

“I didn’t get the details from her husband, but she was conned once and her family themselves another time.” Aiden shrugged. “People take back experiences out on others, but she knew Bernard wanted this.”


“She didn’t asked me why the refund was only for a month.”

“She didn’t because people trust you. It’s sickening.” But Mel did return his smile. “I imagine her husband will explain that?”

“I suspect she’ll actually go over my website with a fine-tooth comb. A month is mostly viable for a cleansing to stop anything new from haunting an area but sometimes the act of exorcism can draw a spirit to a spot. Possibly because they consider it a challenge.” Aiden shrugged. “I’ve yet to see it happen to any place I’ve done an exorcism to, but having the one-month limit as a guarantee seems to reassure people.”

Mel pushed her glasses up her nose, looking about the interior. “What happens now?”

“I go outside, walk around the home, do the exorcism and see if it takes.”

“You walk around a home and stare at it, like with the Kim’s home. That’s it?”

“If we’re lucky, yes.”

“I’m going to be writing the most boring article in the world,” she muttered.

Rites of Exorcism - concepts


* Magic itself – aka the Weird – as a learned discipline. Some people have natural aptitude, but anyone can learn it. Which is not desired by most people with magic, hence it functioning close to a club-house atmosphere limiting the entry of others. You can’t get in until you belong, meaning a lot of self-taught people who become a danger mostly to themselves.
(This also gets rid of magic as a genetic gift or an elitist property, which imo is a good thing to explore. No one is spontaneously a competent witch or warlock or exorcist: this is the result of years of work and focused effort. So you end up with your Houdini and stage-magician types: people who want to perform etc. but lack the charisma to do so. Which helps feed into the reputation warlocks and witches have for being ‘off’)

* Ghosts come from somewhere – so what are they fleeing, and what happens when an exorcist banishes them? Do they return, die, or something worse?

* A complete lack of anything like new age shops. A few exist in tourist places but that’s about all. {Add some that exist solely to turn people AWAY from magic set up by various concerned parental groups, religions etc. ‘Once they go crystal, they can’t go mystical!’ and the like for secret slogans} There will be shops for witches akin to gun stores but they’ll be quieter, secretive, more wary about being robbed. Magic has too many grey areas in the law tends to side against it more often than not.

* Scammers. For every real psychic, there are a hundred frauds with cold reading. For every real minor magic, there are dozens of fakers duplicating it. This makes scientific research difficult.

* Lingering questions. The ‘don’t share’ view of things with magic is akin to the secrecy/codes varied scientists would use to prevent their work from being stolen decades ago. There is also the fact that a lot of magical Stuff is dark and ugly at the core, and no one really wants that exposed. Everyone knows the world has glitches in it; no one wants to consider that their notion of reality is just a collectively agreed upon-glitch.

* Celebrity culture. You need a Story, and there is a witch in town, or a warlock, or an exorcist if you scrape the bottom of the Impressive Stuff barrel. Showing people aspects of live they’ll never touch is important – and in the case of exorcists, useful in getting people to consider using one. Everyone needs money to survive, after all.

* There are still things that go bump in the night. Things barely known, or rumours even in the magical circles. Some of this is the near-criminal lack of sharing information among them, but some is various critters that are very, very good at hiding.

Rites of Exorcisms - character notes


Mel is, at heart, a journalist. She is also convinced that her desire for truth no matter the cost doesn’t make her a monster. In this, at least, she is possibly wrong. With print media dying, she works for an online blogging platform named Noosewire that is a mix of real journalism and human interest, since that attracts the most visitors. They actually pay decently and on time, but everyone is part-time so Mel supplements her income by working as a bartender. Which also means she hears a lot of things and keeps an eye on the zeitgeist, though she’d never use that word aloud. Journalism was her minor at university; she majored in mythical anthropology and found no work in the field – though she didn’t really expect to.

She knows enough about the parnormal to want to know more, and enough about the paranatural to realize how dangerous ‘more’ can be. Her big assett is that Noosewire has money and witches, wizards, exorcists etc. can often use it as being varying degrees of Weird Shit is not condusive to standard jobs no matter what any anti-discrimination laws might try and claim. The city has four exorcists, and the others are part-time and freely admit that Aiden Nel is far, far beyond their own skills. That alone piques her interest since people in few cut-throat professions admit that and Aiden himself seems affable and friendly enough.

Mel is trained to investigate, however, and his bandaged left arm she someone never notices nags at her, as well as just how scarily-competent he is at exorcism. She’s been to haunted homes and seen exorcists work and his skill is more than a little unnerving. She’s slowly realizing there is more going on here than even Aiden knows and wondering at what point a story ceases to be a story, and the extent to which she can justify risking her life in the name of truth. That she doesn’t have an answer to that should, probably, worry her more than it does.

The World Outside The Windows
Melody Chambers, for Variety Magazine.
Unpublished piece.

I ran into the Weird for the first time when I was six. His name was Oscar NameChangedForLegalReasons, and our class was flipping coins because coin tosses aren’t really 50/50. It was mundane until he flipped a coin and each time it landed on the edge. Nothing else. Paper, pens, bills, bottle caps: they all behaved in a normal way. But give him a coin, and it would land on the edge each time. It hadn’t even occurred to him that not everyone else could do that until the teacher made the kind of fuss that leads to them taking the early retirement option. Most everyone took it as a lark. There was a boy in grade six who could burp entire song lyrics, and that was generally considered far more interesting.

I knew one girl in university who could change the colour of her eyes at will. That’s the second time I ran into the Weird and knew what it was. Only that wasn’t interesting: it turned out the house her family lived in was haunted in the sense that wasn’t leaky pipes, bad floorboards, infrasounds or anything else mundane. It shorted out electronics, and that finally led the family to find an exorcist. Finding a real exorcist, it turns out, is harder than it looks. Finding one willing to deal with a ghost strong enough not to care if people bring in an exorcist was harder still.

Sandra NameAlsoChanged wouldn’t tell me much about it. Just that the woman who came had been real, spoken words she never wanted to hear again and the house had been normal after that. Only she said normal as though it scared her, as if something was missing from the house. She scoffed at my questions and was the first person to tell me to get into journalism so I could nag people all the time. Only she was far ruder than that.

See, everyone knows a little bit about the Weird. But not many people know what happens when you get further into it. How much is out there? The government wouldn’t fund Department X without a reason – probably – and trying to get a FOIA request on them is worse than pulling teeth out by hand. I began to realize that what I knew was only the tip of the iceberg, and it went deeper than anyone wanted to admit.

All these secrets, and who was it protecting? Us, or the people with the secrets themselves? I resolved to find an exorcist myself and learn what they really did. It’s not like it was a full-time job, and they’d surely need the money the magazine could provide. I was certain I could find one that wouldn’t say no to me.

Sometimes I really hate being right.

His faith in me terrified me. The last people who had trusted me that deeply died because I failed them and he said it didn’t change anything at all. “You have to love someone because of their flaws,” he’d said, honestly confused that I didn’t get it. “Without flaws we wouldn’t be people at all.”

“Two hundred people died; that’s more than a flaw,” I’d said.

“I know,” he’d said, and nothing else.  

Lost Familiar (Closed RP)

Hiccup had finished talking to the owner. He had bought this property who the intention of restoring it and flipping it, but it seemed haunted, stuff was moving around on its own. Possible possession or haunting, these sorts of things were usually straightforward. Last rites, burial, exorcism, stuff like that.

He got off his bike and preformed a gear check, he looked at the knives in his jacket and boots, six in all, three made of iron, and three made of silver, depending on what he was fighting, a collapsible miniature crossbow with several bolts of each on his thigh, and several brewed potions designed to boost his stamina, reflexes, healing, night vision… Normal humans, even with his training and… enhancements… had a hard time fighting demons and monsters on their own. He needed every edge he could get.

He wasn’t anticipating a fight, jobs like this usually were straightforward, but he needed to be ready for a worst-case scenario.

Satisfied that he was prepared, he opened the door and stepped in.


In the mid-1970s, a German woman named Anneliese Michel underwent 67 rites of exorcism. The Washington Post reported that “under the influence of her demons, Michel ripped the clothes off her body, compulsively performed up to 400 squats a day, crawled under a table and barked like a dog for two days, ate spiders and coal, bit the head off a dead bird and licked her own urine from the floor.” Her story was also the inspiration for The Exorcism of Emily Rose.

>400 squats a day

demons why