The Possession of John Doe

I will apologize in advance for my story. I am not a writer. My thought processes are untrained in the form of prose. My tangents an extreme reach for the pen I hold, and I am utterly uneducated in the form of punctuation, sentence structure or flow. It is my story none the less and there is a need that it be told. I sit here pen in hand, the movement across the paper becomes a blur as the story unfolds. I am afraid and my hand trembles. The telling of the story makes it real. The first "real" thing I have done since this nightmare began. You can't imagine what I have been through.

I suppose I was a normal child. I had all the "normal" childhood ailments. I got the chickenpox at age six, which left a lovely little forget me not scar on the right side of my nose. I had the typical scrapped and scarred knees from a "look ma' no hands" episode and a fresh paved parking lot that just jumped up to say "Hello" while it tore off a layer of skin. Just a regular kid, you know. I was nothing very special. No dramatic scandals to tell from my childhood. I wasn't beaten or abused sexually. A regular family in your picture perfect family environment. No skeletons in my families closet as far as I know. Chicken on Sunday and meatloaf on Thursday kind of family. They were just regular people and I was just a regular kid with all the regular kid joys, problems and expectations.

It is in this uneventful story, and maybe because of it, that things changed. Being such an ordinary kid, as I grew older, I became more aware of myself and a bit self conscious. I think all kids go through not being very sure of their selves. It is that gawky in between child and adult time when we all question the "self". It can be such a horrible time for a teenager. I had never been extraordinarily gifted intellectually, nor was I exceptionally coordinated as far as sports go. I was about average size for my age. Average everything. Average family. Average mentality. Average me. Just plain old me. You could call it invisible average, going unnoticed and un-special.

It was then, on what I am sure was a very typical day, a day when I was feeling especially average and unnoticed; that my life changed forever. It was the day I discovered the spirit life. No more average, run of the mill, unnoticed invisible for me. Not after this day. And with this my true story unfolds.

I am not sure if it was because I was so ordinary that the spirits noticed and came to me but it could have been. There is really no way of knowing so I will continue without further explanation.

The spirits entered my life and it was as though an old and tattered black and white photo suddenly had color and life. I no longer felt so average. I was different and funny and cynical chic and cool. No more did I feel invisible. I was vibrant, not a misfit, unable to fit in, being laughed at and ridiculed. The spirits gave me the strength within to overcome every doubt that I ever had about myself. When I felt unpopular in school, the new spirit life gave me a way to fit in and be cool. It was a confidence of "self" that I had never even imagined. Daily problems at home (and yes, I said an average family so there were problems), soon became unimportant. When things got tough I had the spirits to fill my time and my mind with new ideas. They were my new friends. My only friends, my confidantes, my soul mates, filling a void that I wasn't even aware I had. They could make things be alright and they were always there for me.

As time passed and I grew older the spirits just became part of me. They were no longer something separate; it was becoming a package deal at this point. The spirits were no longer a separate entity. They had become me. I saw other people playing around and toying with the spirit world from time to time but no one was as immersed as me. I had become as one with them. It was a conjoining with no beginning and no end.

If things were bad I didn't notice, not with the mystic strength and power the spirits gave me. Daily troubles had little or no effect on me. I was immune to the pain and suffering of those around me as the spirits protected me from day to day strife. If other people only knew the true secret of the spirits their life could be as stress free and care free as mine. The spirit world however, must be discovered of ones own accord. This I knew, and I, being so blessed by the spirits presence, wanted to share my secret knowledge. Others were leery, they just could not understand. Even when I showed them over and over again, they just didn't get it. I pity those poor souls who turned their backs on the true way. They struggled while I was on top of the world. A few were able to see and understand the spirits and we became such friends. We would sometimes just spend days laughing and talking, enjoying each others company with the spirits to guide us. Time stood still for us and was really of little importance. We were saving the world. Hell, we were the world. We were not doing much of anything. We would just hang out together while the power of the spirits and the strength in numbers gained us true insight to so many issues. Knowledge is power. The spirits gave us mental capabilities that others just couldn't comprehend. Now, not only did I have my spirits, but had found others who truly understood their power. We were in fact a secret society. We did not have a real club or a scheduled agenda. We needed nothing so formal. We found each other as if attracted by forces beyond our control. I suppose there were forces working beyond our control, but that is in hindsight and could take away from the tale if I jump to far forward so forgive me this once.

Life was great for me! How lucky could a human be? I had it made in the shade Mack Daddy. No worries, no pain, and my spirit friends fed me body and soul.

But like all good stories, (not that this is "good" but if you are still reading then the spirits are doing their bidding), there must be a love interest. Even the spirits understood the needs of the flesh. Girls were many but love was fleeting. There were so many in fact I don't remember their names or much about the brief episodes of passion, so no locker room talk here. Lucky guy that I am; I couldn't miss. If a girl turned me down I had the spirit "charisma" to help me charm the pants off the next one. No worries for me and no commitment. If this one didn't work out, and many of them were no more than an evening of play, then I would move on to the next. Without the spirits possession I would never have had the confidence to be such a "bona" fide playa', no pun intended. This is not meant to be conceited; it just was what it was.

I don't remember the day and the year is really unimportant. I am fully absorbed by the spirit world, my spirit friends, my spirit life, when out of the blue like a lightening bolt in a sunny sky; I met a girl who was different from the rest. Not different like she had two heads or something, which at this point wouldn't have bothered me as I had been seeing and doing it all, (and seen doing it all), but different in a way because she touched parts of my soul that I thought were long forgotten. She wasn't necessarily prettier than any of the others or smarter or wittier. It was like she knew me from the inside. It was like what I had with the spirits but she could touch me. Not just physically either but emotionally like no other ever had. I was in love and with this said my days of chasing pretty mindless blurs were over.

The spirits didn't like this new influence. They liked things just the way they were with them my only "real" friend and me doing as they wished, when they wished. Don't forget that by this point they were not separate from me but had merged as part of me, possession full on. They were my life, my essence, they were me. They tugged at me day and night, taunting me with silly one liners, that were really quite juvenile in their content, to just stay away from her. "Ball and chain", "ring in your nose", "do you think you are the only one "screwing" her? sucka'". They saw her as a threat to us, to them. For all the years the spirits had been with me I had never questioned their true intentions; not a single worry or regret until now. They did everything in their power to destroy this new friend and lover and her influence on me.

I wanted so much for this to work out. She filled a place in me that I didn't know was empty; it was ironic in the same way the spirits had possessed me. Her possession was sweet. Ying and Yang. Oh, they were angry. As time went by and just when things were the best between us they would curse at her and throw things trying to drive her away. They were manipulative and pulled me in so many directions. I was confused and distraught for the first time in my life. What the hell is up with this? I struggled with the spirit part of myself, explaining to it that it would be ok. We could pull this off. She was no threat to our well being at all. She made me happy but the spirits had a special place that she could never share. I begged them to do no harm to her. To let me coexist with her and them, and they finally allowed it, remaining silent for a time. Time enough for me to make amends without really explaining them to her. I proposed, she accepted and we were married. And we lived happily ever after. The end. "Yeah right".

She always knew there was some other part of me that was locked away from her. She had been the unfortunate victim of their onslaught for a time. She didn't understand it, she couldn't, she was like the others not willing to open herself up and let the spirits in. It was ok though. I had the secret and she seemed content with not knowing. She wanted to put all that in the past anyway.

All was well. We had children. I celebrated with "spiritual friends". They too had given me some one liner curses about my upcoming wedded bliss but in light of the little bundles they were more than happy to celebrate and pull the all nighter's as we had on so many other occasions. We had such a rejoicing for my blessings in life. The spirits didn't seem to mind the addition of the little ones as much and they really liked the cigars that I passed out as each new child was born. At least they didn't attack the little ones. The wife did most of the kid stuff anyway becoming overly busy and concerned with them. This freed me to spend my time with my spirits contemplating all sorts of things like in the old days and my secret society had time for me while the diapers were changed and colic was cured by her. I was able to walk with pride and joy and have a family. What a great life and how lucky I was to be able to have it all.

Time went by uneventfully for a while. The wife was busy, I was busy, and the babies weren't babies anymore. I am not sure of the next series of events. I can't put my finger on if the spirits became jealous of my human attachment with my wife, or if it was that my wife was jealous of my spiritual attachment to something she couldn't understand, that set the wheel in motion. They started all over again with the screaming and cursing at her and they made her cry a lot. It was a troubled time for me, the spirits swaying me one way and she the next. I would always try to make things right after they were through with her. I tried to console her and tell her it would be ok. It was as though they tried to break her spirit. They also tried to make me look bad in her eyes but they didn't understand true love. They are really sneaky bastards those spirits but you wouldn't think it to know them. She continued to stay by my side as though nursing a sick child. She would always make things right when the spirits attempted to destroy her. She was even sympathetic to them and their ranting. She wanted to get some help but how silly was that. We are talking about part of me that I love, just as she is part of me that I love. Why can't they all just let things be? Just let us all get along, I often reasoned. I guess that even though they were a part of me, I didn't truly understand them and I didn't really understand her. The spirits had become my God; they were myself, and the force behind everything I was. She was a mere mortal; a woman and just flesh, replaceable if you think about it. And we all know God can be a jealous God. There shall be no others before Him.

Years passed and we all coexisted but not happily by any means. The children grew up and moved away and started families of their own. I had spread word of the spirit realm to the children and they, (if so granted by the spirits), would also pass the knowledge to their own children. I figured we had a 50/50 chance of passing on the secrets since they were 50% my blood. The secret society's interpretation of membership drives, but kind of on the sly. The wife still didn't get it, and so the children's own spirit beings lashed out at her as well. She was really outnumbered and their spirit selves were a lot less forgiving than mine and I watched my wife age and wither under their assaults. I was sad for her sometimes, but more often, I was with my spirit friends and she and her issues were far from my mind.

With the children gone and us left alone the spirits just got nasty. They saw her beaten down and vulnerable and they just harassed her further. They had no respect for the love I felt for her but after years of it I guess I had no respect for it either. Not enough to fault the spirits for any of the problems. I guess I always knew that they would do this to her and it bothered me but it was out of my control. I think at this point in time, the possession was almost complete. The former part of my "self" that she saw when she fell in love with me was all but gone and the spirits had taken the place. I am not sure when it happened, it just did. I am not sure where I was anymore for the spirits minded to my business and made the decisions. I was in there somewhere and I wasn't unhappy. I just didn't have a say anymore and could really care less. I wasn't fighting it and the spirits had full control.

I awoke with a start. My head throbbed and a nasty taste in my mouth resembled the taste of blood. I stumbled to the bathroom and saw a strangers red eyes looking back. The sight of caked and dried remnants of what appeared to be blood from a wound on my left temple tried to shake loose some sort of memory of what had happened from my foggy brain. Upon closer inspection my lip is also cracked, bleeding and sore. What the hell happened? I started the painful project of cleaning up what used to be my face and to further access the damages. The warm water from the sink just seems to amplify all the nerve endings and facial pain is like no other. I am confused, dying of thirst and my head continues to pound. An aspirin and a nice breakfast is what I need. Where is my wife when I need her? She should be able to put humpty dumpty back together again because she always has, and she always will. That's what she signed up for and I have a license. A contract witnessed By God. I look around the rooms of the house and wow....what a wreck. What the Hell? What has she been doing to this place? Furniture is overturned and things are thrown and broken and in such disarray it looks as though the grandkids have been here but worse and odd. This is not like her to leave things overnight like this and something is wrong. Someone must have broken in and beat me up and robbed us. I bet it was those crack heads from down the street. Now where is she? Where is the aspirin? I frantically search the house calling her name. It is eerie quiet. The pounding in my head makes it hard to reason and make sense of this scene. I see something taped to the door. It is a note that in a scribbled text, that kind of looks like my wife's handwriting but also not, and just says NO MORE. Her wedding ring is tied to it by a string. If my face didn't hurt so bad I might have smiled just then as that is so "her". Tying up lose ends. That's my gal. Has been from day one and always will be. We have a contract you know or did I mention that already.

I take a deep breath as the walls start to close in on me. The silence of a moment before turns into foot steps fast then faster. I feel faint and I can hear my heart as though it is in my throat beat, beat beatbeatbeatbeatbeat. It is part of the footsteps of what is coming to get me. I am panicking. I can't breath and my chest feels as though it may burst before I am able to draw my next breath. I feel stinging and realize tears are run down my fresh wounds making them hurt all the more and seem more real. That explains the stinging. For every action there is a positive and equally shitty reaction. Where did I come up with that one and when did I become so damned cynically and clinically depressed? I think to myself that I can't remember the last time I felt a tear. I think to myself I can't remember the last time I caused a tear. I think to myself I don't remember shit. It is all such a blur. I cry silently as I reflect on the irony of it all and reach towards the bar for the SPIRITS and a glass to help quench my thirst. The spirits they are always with you. Rock on! Your only real friend.