The Incubus: Part 1
Do not turn to mediums or seek out spirits for you will be defiled by them.”
You belong to your father, the devil; and you want to carry out your father’s desires. He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks a native language for he is a liar and the father of the lie."
Lc. 19:13 and Ju. 8:44
The Holy Bible, A.D.R.
I knew with certainty that she was dying when I first saw her. This portentious omen became intimate knowledge from the very gleam in her eyes.
Indeed! I see a distinct blaze in her eyes that resembles the sparkling light of a distant but radiant star, a light like the last struggling burst of a supernova emitted multiple generations ago.
Who was hurting more, I wondered morbidly. I who loved her more than words can define? Or she who sat there demurely as if her own death was not the matter in the case? I looked around me, smiling a plastic smile, not wanting to show signs of my concern. It is difficult to put into simple words the immeasurable emotions I felt, a mixture of fear, of longing, of awe, the emotions one feels when someone you love is departing this mortal plain and yet sits casually there before you as if nothing could be wrong.
The table before us was, as always, full of meats and candies, wine and liquors, cake and bread, vegetables and sauces. And yet I was transiently lonely, lonely from the knowledge that all things move on, all things change, and all things seem to come to an end. Even the life of a dearly beloved can end in spite of our efforts to forestall that death.
She and I were together. We talked about everything and all things. Momentarily setting aside our worries and our problems, we found comfort in such a profound affection as was ours. Even now, I laugh at how hilarious are the hands of time and how time is so cunningly playful in an evil sort of way. When one is bored, time drags on interminably, maliciously slowing its pace to inflict deliberate suffering.
But for us, in moments, it seemed, six hours flew by. Oh, how time races when you are with someone you love! And, Dear God, how much faster it flows when you know that the one you love will soon be forever gone, snuffed out like a candle in the wind, never to shine again or to be looked upon with devotion as something eternal, golden and beautiful.
Yes, I loved my Annita and I will always love her until the ends of time. That cannot be argued. But, then, who could not love my Annita? I saw her precious caring smile, her thin curving lips, her golden skin, and her onyx hair touched with a few white streaks of frost and experience. Ah, my Annita!
She was no movie star, but to me she was Cleopatra, Isis, Venus, and much more. She was unspeakably beautiful and perfect in every way. Her sweet attitude and her timid way of being, her loyalty and faithfulness, all of her, attracted me like honey consumes a bee.
Her face was shaped oddly and, yet, was strangely beautiful. Her face possessed what all women of great beauty are said to possess, unique curves that formed their faces. Ah, but her eyes! Her eyes, indeed! I cannot describe them no matter how hard I might try. They are almond shaped, like the eyes of a wise and ancient cat, dark and liquid like an opaque lagoon of great depth. They gleam as if she knows the secret of all incomprehensible knowledge and holds the keys to the gates of heaven and the dungeons of Hell.
Those fantastic eyes said so much. I was unable to hold eye contact with her for more than a few seconds, or I feared I might be driven terribly insane. But the power of those eyes compelled me to seek answers, answers to save the woman I loved so selfishly with a love so powerful that it amounted to love that was pure idolatry. I could not bear to have her, my everything, taken away from me. No, not like this. I could not endure this possibility.
We hugged, we kissed, we talked. Far too soon came the moment when we were separated for the week. To receive such a visit in jail is difficult, hard, tough to endure, when you know that your loved one is leaving you, to be farther away than ever before, to the dark regions of the unknown, to Hades, the common burial ground for all of mankind, to sleep in those depths until the day of judgment.
At night, during many nights, alone in my chilly cell, I dwelt upon the course of events that led us to this point in time. How had we come to meet? What brought two lonely souls together, one sentenced to long years of imprisonment and the other sentenced to a slow horrible death? What made us fall in love and find the solace in each other that could not be found elsewhere, even for the briefest of moments? Annita was much older than I, much older than I who stalked the earth confused and melancholy for a mere twenty-nine years, while she struggled to reach forty-nine years. Woe to us, I said aloud. Woe to us!
Woe to us, for even our uncanny existence of love is opposed by her family members, against me, saying:
“Oh, but he does not love you.” Or: “He’s just a jailbird.” “He’s just using you, holding on to you until his release.
Then you will see him no more.” Or: He’ll find a young chick and disappear.”
It was unending, this bombardment of stinging words from those who claimed to love her and thought that they offered her caring and even righteous advice, but instead were torturing and tormenting her lonely heart and soul.
I knew this was true for I could see it in the very gleam of those wonderful eyes. I saw the pain and worry placed there by the mean spirited. Even as I write these words, all understanding eludes me as to why they would add to our pain-filled and dreary lives. Why would anyone doubt the love between us? Could they not understand that love holds no set pattern? Could they not know that it exists solely in the minds and hearts of the lovers and no one else need be concerned with it?
Ah, all of this and more, I pondered in the dismal cell I’ve learned to call home. I was weak and weary from my unanswered prayers. I have never doubted the existence of our creator, God. I’ve studied and searched the scriptures with a resolve and strength of mine that borders on zeal. I’ve been cognizant of why we humans suffer and I have extrapolated answers and, still, at times, found myself confused. Yet, not even then would I deny the existence of Yahweh, He who causes to become.
However, only mortal am I. It was in one of these thoughtful nights that I prayed not! This was not my normal habit. Instead, there grew within me a fancy of hate and vehemence, of loathing and rebellion. Oh, Lord, forgive me, I knew not what I did. I grew rabidly insane. I cursed and spat to the God of all worlds.
“Answer me, you monster!” I cried out. “Why? Why are you taking my beloved Annita? Why?”
In a wild convulsion of dementia, I released the flood of anguish contained in a tormented heart. I thrashed wildly, destroying everything within the eight feet squared that made up my confinement. I tore up my pictures, ripped my books to pieces, shredded my clothes, and destroyed all that I could lay hands upon. If I had possessed matches, surely I would have burned myself in the cell as a living sacrifice on the alter of love, for all to see what true love really is.
It was not long before I was dragged away and kept secluded naked in a padded cell for my own safety as I succumbed deeply into the nether regions of the mind. It was at that time, as I pounded my head on the padded walls, that I heard the fiendish voice of the Incubus.
No, I say to you, No. Don’t you say to me that it is a token of my own invention, my imagination, my own device, or a mental episode of schizophrenia brought on by the tranquilizers the guards had thrust into my veins. These assuredly may be your thoughts, but know this, these are not what led me to that voice.
No! The voice, as hard as it may be to believe, was real, startlingly real. It had its own existence, its own being, its own intelligence. It was so malevolently present that it appeared tangible, palpable and tasted like bitter vile, with an effluvium of rotting vermin that pervaded my innermost core and soul. Oh, God, how insufferable and unbearable it was. Then . . . Then, it spoke to me. Yes, dear God, that thing spoke to me. The voice came to me in the silence of my mind, paralyzing my body as I listened.
“Harken and observe, ye of mortal flesh and bone.
How dare you force me to this zone?
Why disturb me from my sleep?
I care not for the human for whom you weep.
“Hold your tongue. I know your mind.
Deep loathing have I for all your kind.
The Incubus feeds upon your betrothed.
To stop it, nae! I tell you naught!
“Persistant, aye? I see you are.
Such gallantry can take you far
In any direction towards Heaven or Hell.
It is your choice as you know well.
“Yet, I admire one such as you,
So this is what I will do
To help you save that dreary life,
All for the payment of a small price.
“So humbly now, I tell you this,
To repel that terrible Incubus
Will bring you treasures and eternal life
To spend forever with your wife.
“Trust my words. I know what’s right.
October 5th, before the night.
Harken well. I repeat not twice.
I will come to claim this debt and price!”
The melodious, whispering voice communicated in an unknown manner to this mortal man, to me. I could not fathom how this was achieved. As it was, I considered it all to be a bad dream, a nightmare induced by the chemical effects of the sedatives that had been forced upon me. Mind you, there comes a time when a man is so desperate for a solution that he is game for any solution, even the most absurd of suggestions to rectify the problem, even as he knows it to be a waste of time. Although I believed the dream naught, I endeavored to procure, by any means necessary, the opportunity to reverse the approaching demise of my love and my queen. Thus, I facilitated the wiles of that unclean spirit of the darkness.
God of all heaven and earth, supreme architect of the universe, hear me. How foolish I was to challenge such a familiar spirit. At this point, I must confess that the knowledge that my most adored was fated to die a horrible death could have been only a simple fancy of paranoia manifested by the mere thought of losing her. For, in all truth, she never stated to me that she was going to die. Nor were there any medical or other tell-tale signs of illness apparent to this point in time. Instead, we both denied this truth silently, communicating it only through brief eye contact. I tell you in all truth that her eyes radiated all of this to me through its gleam. The dream only reinforced my premonitions.
Ha! I laugh now, thinking that whosoever reads these words will truly mark me a madman. But this impending doom which I have described thus far was and is real to me, as real as it is knowledge to certain birds that they must migrate southward or perish.
Eventually, I regained full control of my faculties and was soon thereafter released back into the general inmate population of the prison. Forthwith, each day, I found myself entering the general library. Each time, I was greeted amicably by the library’s matron civilian worker, Mrs. Lewis, and I in turn would return rather meanderingly in a distracted way with a quick and gracious smile. Then, I plunged into the books quite hungrily.
Each time that I looked up from the pile of books before me, I saw Mrs. Lewis chatting amicably with this prisoner or that prisoner. She seemed strong, vivacious and good natured. I prayed for her and for us all. I knew that in this fragile world we are all sojourners, living transient and intricate lives, with no clue as to the vast powers that surround us daily, using us as mere pawns in a galactic game.
The books before me all concerned the supernatural, for reasons which I will now explain. The Incubus had mentioned an offending spirit and had laid upon the eye of my mind a vision of my beloved laying quietly asleep. As I watched this vision, I saw a dark film, resembling diesel exhaust fumes, float phantasmagorically above her sleeping body. Gradually, ever so gradually, as if by degrees, the gaseous film descended towards her body like an evil wraith.
Seconds before making contact with her body, the Incubus looked wanly in my direction. As shown by the dream, this could well have been my imagination working overtime. With eyes glistening like bloody death, it looked in my direction. It smiled a fanged smile, whipping out a double-pointed snakes tongue. Then it was gone, flowing into her nostrils, disappearing into the body of my beloved.
These were the revelations that made me a believer in the supernatural. There had been a time when I mocked anything said to exist beyond the physical realm in which we all lived. Now, I knew better. Now, I saw things with a new and profound understanding. I was filled with numbing fear and knew that Annita’s death would be inevitable if I could not find a solution.
Feverishly, I studied the things that once I had laughed at in the past. At times, I was so confused and so consumed by the insolvability of this problem that I would converse with another civilian worker in the library, Mr. Mahony, who was a good-natured and helpful man in the prison’s education department.
Surrepticiously, I asked him questions when I did not understand what I was reading for he was a truly learned fellow with vast knowledge of what seemed to be just about everything. I asked cautious questions of him because I did not want him to guess as to the nature and true object of my inquiries. I cunningly led him into helping me with some of the research without alluding to my true intent. If he had even a fractional idea of my plans, he made no mention of it.
Annita and I had been together now for five years. It was a relationship that began and will end behind these dreary walls. In our own absurd way, we had a lot of fun. We were content, and, if we had a dreamy desire, a wish, it would be that we be together forever in the free world. And though many might argue as to my sincerity, there was truly love between us. There was more love than I had ever had before this dear and wonderful woman came into my life, this precious person who I endearingly called “Mi Vieja.” My old lady.
And so the day arrived, the day of action during which I was to dispel the foul Incubus from the heart and body of my beloved Annita. I remember the day vividly, as if it were only yesterday. It was October 5th, 1997.
As usual, that day, we sat in the visiting room, eating the snacks she had brought for me, and chatting about anything and everything. We were extremely joyful in our companionship. Shortly after her arrival, as we sat in the chairs, without warning or even awareness of what I was doing, I grabbed her and passionately kissed her. Much to her surprise, I began to suck the air from her lungs as if to pull from therein her very heart. Alarmed, startled, she tried to pull away. I was a powerful and muscular man and I held her tightly in a bear-hug grip. Her legs flailed as she frantically sought release. I held fast, usurping all the air from her lungs, like a reverse mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
Then, suddenly, she coughed and regurgitated the unclean spirit from within her. With frightening speed, it shot into my mouth and down my throat, feeling like a scaly serpent, hot and fleshy. It slithered down my windpipe, choking me for a moment. At that moment, damned I became. Damned I was. And damned I am to this day. I shudder violently, even now, as I remember the hideous taste and stench of the beast. Though I do not regret what I have done, others may be appalled at my desperate attempt to save Annita’s life. I would do it again, unhesitatingly, if I had to. And that just may be the case. I let go of her.
Immediately, I fell to the ground, writhing and confulsing spasmodically. My vision grew dimmer and dimmer as I choked and foamed at the mouth. Through my water-filled eyes, I saw my love crying, screaming in terror and wildly gesturing for help. I saw her lips moving but could not hear what she said. A voice within my head said, “It is done!”
All the world went black as I lost consciousness.
Two days later, I awoke in the infirmary. Every detail of the recent events dawned upon me with perfect clarity, especially the dream I’d experienced just before I woke up. I fell into a shocked stupor as I recalled the dream.
In the dream, I had seen the Incubus laughing loudly and joyously. It said to me, “I lied to you. I lied to you! Nothing you could do would save Annita. Your death will be much worse than hers because you have interfered with a spirit’s duties. You have delved into things you have no knowledge of, which brings death, and lastly, you have earned death by believing the words of the Incubus, believing in the help it has offered, the creator of the lie!”
As for my beloved Annita, she still lives. I do not know how much longer she has to live. But I will not rest until I defeat this Incubus. If necessary, I will die trying.
.Main. .Pictures. .Stories And Poems. .Essays. .K-Blood Memorial. .My Artwork. .My Bro Abraham's Memorial.
Dezigned By: LiL CaPoNe