She was the girl that you loved to hate. Tall, thin, perfect breasts, perfect teeth, perfect everything. She had everything that you ever wanted handed to her. Men went insane for her, woman wished they could be her. She was the modern Helen of Troy. No one knew who she was, only that she was. She had arrived in the village only a month ago, and her popularity sky rocketed. She seemed to have an answer to every question. And was able to recall anything that was told to her. She spoke like someone much older than she appeared to be, and maintained mannerisms that no longer seemed necessary in this day and age. Nobody minded however. But, when asked if she would join the morning mass, she would always have something that needed to be done, and have all of her attention lavished upon it. This began to raise some eyebrows. When time and again, more excuses passed her perfect lips. Many people became suspicious of the woman, even fear her. Why would she come here, and refuse to take part in mass? Especially when she wore a rosary tied to her belt, and declared more than once that she was a proud Catholic.
Another month passed and the once popular woman was forced to beg for attention. Though she did receive a few glances from passers by, she never received the gift of conversation. That is until one morning a priest came to her door. She wrapped her robe tightly around her thin frame and ambled down the stairs. "Hello father. Why may I ask are you here?" She leaned into the doorway, making sure that there was plenty of room between her and the priest. "If you are such a proud Catholic woman, you should be attending mass. May I come in?" The priest gave a loving smile, and she agreed to let him in. They walked into the living room, the woman took a seat on the overstuffed chair, while the priest sat down on the sofa. "I know who you are." The priest said without waiting. The woman raised her eyebrow. "Well then, who am I father?" She crossed her arms over her breasts. The priest reached into his robe and produced a photograph dated 1901 Venice Italy. "You are the woman in this photograph. At least you were. It is said that this woman was so angry that she was dying, that she sold her soul to the demons of hell to stay young. Now as I look at you, I see an unholy presence." The woman smirked and leaned in close to the priest. "Good work father. but what are you going to do about it? The body would die without me." Her voice had changed from the soft docile tone into a low pitched male voice. The priest stood and exposed his rosary, and started to pray.
The demon laughed, bending the woman's neck to a horrible angle. The priest continued, holding firmly to his rosary. The demon stepped closer to the priest and ripped the rosary out of his hand.The prayers got louder, the demon shrieked, and began to bang the woman's head on the coffee table.The priest didn't even try to stop it. The body was dead. It was the soul that he was fighting for. By this time, some of the villagers began to peer through the windows. The shrieks were so loud that they could be heard for miles. The priest reached into his robes and pulled out a small vile of holy water. He pulled the cork from the vile, with his teeth, and splashed it on the woman's body. Finally, it stopped. The shrieks had been silenced, the body fell truly dead upon the floor. The priest let out a sigh of relief and began walking towards the door. His work was done. Then, he felt something, a pain in his stomach. He vomited, wiped his mouth and opened the front door. Villagers circled around the front stairs. All of them with shock in their eyes. The priest smiled an awkward smile, there was something different about him now, he couldn't put his finger on it, but he felt younger than ever. The villagers stepped in close to the priest, all of them asking questions. He raised his hands to quiet the crowd. "It's finished."
Copywrite 2009 A.E.Crawford "Tir"
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