The Dark Sacrament by David Kiely Page B

air.
    Monsieur Dubois was watching her.
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    The years passed. The entity continued to keep its nighttime appointments with Julie. It was a battle she fought practically alone. She kept it from her husband; she kept it from her children.
    It is interesting to observe how quickly the abnormal can become a commonplace in a person’s life when paranormal activity takes hold. It seems that, as was the case with Julie, and in the absence of rational explanations or solutions, the beleaguered person is forced to accept this unorthodox situation and somehow learns to live with it.
    â€œI know how strange that might seem to a lot of people,” she says. “But, you see, I was prepared to put up with it because there seemed to be nothing else I could do. In the course of time I saw a pattern to it. Whenever I prayed really hard to be rid of Dubois, things would get worse and he’d attack me even more—try to suffocate me, or worse. Those times I didn’t pray, I found that he’d be just a presence in the house. I’d hear him walking around upstairs, or sense him standing in the corner of the bedroom or on the landing.”
    Julie was coming to a better understanding of the entity’s motives, what Dubois was trying to do to her. He was attacking her very faith.
    â€œI know now what his plan was. That I’d give up my religion and go over to him. It took me a while to see this, even though all the clues were there. For long periods I stopped going to Sunday worship or saying prayers at all, simply to get some peace. Now I know that that’s how demonic oppression works. By getting me to give up on God, the demon was priming me for something altogether more horrific, but I couldn’t have known that at the time.”
    Julie’s “more horrific” development occurred at the beginning of 1992. The manner of the haunting shifted dramatically. The experience left her with the conviction that Pierre Dubois was intent on much more than molesting her at night. He wished to possess her—body and soul.
    A single incident was enough to convince her of this. One night, she awoke to the familiar pattern of oppression: the paralyzing weight, the obnoxious smell, the stubbled cheek. But this time there was an additional torment. A hand was tightening about her throat; she could barely breathe. Dubois was attempting to throttle her. Her battle with the entity had become a fight for survival.
    Unable to move her limbs, she sought in desperation for sacred words that might thwart the demon. At last she remembered the prayer a Catholic friend had instructed her to say if she ever felt threatened.
    The words came to her, but the pressure on her throat was so great that she could hardly give voice to them. “In…the name…of…of Jesus… Christ! ” The pressure lessened. “Get out of my life!”
    Sure enough, the exhortation proved to be very effective. Julie felt the fingers relinquish their stranglehold. She was free.
    She gave thanks to God, convinced as she was that her speaking the name of Christ had saved her. At the same time, she knew from bitter experience that Dubois would not take her victory lightly. Sooner or later he would seek vengeance.
    He did so within the hour—just when she thought the coast was clear and was drifting into sleep again.
    This time, there were no footsteps, but a low “zooming noise,” as Julie puts it; one that grew as it approached the bed. She rememberssitting up to investigate, only to be pushed back down again by a hand pressing against her chest. She was attacked again, not throttled, as before, but by increased pressure of the crushing weight upon her body. So great was the pressure that she was certain that the entity was trying to crush the life out of her.
    The housewife had never been willing to fully face the true nature of the creature that called itself Pierre Dubois. A part of her had been willing to