EXORCIST FILE #1: PRIEST OF IGNIS DIVINA

You can’t find the priest of the town of St. Pio The Pious in the church most of the time. When you ask the people here in this old yet bustling town, many will say the their priest will only stay at the church during Sunday for the mass.

Most of his days however is spend in the town’s largest Pub, The Carnal. Specifically in his favorite spot on the saloon.

Father Spinoza or Father Spin as called by other is a Man of God who have only one flaw that gravely destroy his reputation; something he never mind at all although it cost him lesser contribution from the church people and ultimately a nearly empty church on the 2^nd year of his stay as their parish priest.

He is a drunkard and fond of comparing the holy blood of Christ with Bloody Mary. Often telling to the people from The Carnal that both share the same taste of heavenly sweetness that every soul ache to taste.

However, the people of St. Pio found it blasphemous and most of the time they just leave the priest ranting and raving like a the mad man from the book of Dostoyevsky all by himself when the mix the spirit of Gin, Bourbon and Vodka all in his bulging stomach.

“I wonder why does the church send such kind of priest...are they running out of able people now?”

“It is even surprising that they let him inside the holy church! Such a shameful bloke...doesn’t deserve wearing a cassock.”

Rather than engaging into an argument to defend his name, Father Spin just smile and laugh at heartily as he drink another bottle and slur the words of God in drunken haze.

“D-don’t you know..hic...that the Bible...hic...promotes drinking of wine?”

When the priest started speaking in drunken language about the Holy Scripture, everyone will either left the Saloon or ask its owner to please dragged outside the bar and left him talk to  stray dogs or cats instead. Fortunately, the owner who goes by the name of Simon still respect the priest and will never do that unless it makes some violent commotion.

“Let me talk to him for awhile...he just need some companion.” He always says to them gently like a father trying to defend his son to his friends with a flair of democarcy.

“Damn Simon, how can you endure such person? Even if he is a priest, he completely efface the name of the church with his...addiction.” One of the female patron said with an emphasis on her last word

“Father Spinoza might have some problems but believe it or not he is a good priest. Way better than any priest I’ve ever known.”

Confused with the words of the owner of the bar, another customer ready is argument against  Father Spin as a decent priest but the door of the saloon went swinging wildly with a loud slam as someone uninvited suddenly enter it.

It was Victor, a well known merchant of the town, with his face drained with all of its normal colors. His shirt is disheveled with a large tear on its middle; exposing his chest that is filled with bruises and scratches. There is even a small dribbling of blood on his fat lips.

“Victor! For god sake did the local gang did this to you?”

Instead of answering the question, Victor limply walk towards Father Spinoza who is busy preaching the sacredness of blood and alcohol in a rambling fashion and a sleepy yet loud voice.

“Father Spin...we need your help...my wife needs you.” The merchant is now down on his knees and wincing in pain as he move them to beg the priest.

“Whoa...Whoa...she needs me? Is she going for a confession?” The priest replied in a chuckle as he take another bottle and starts pouring it on his throat. This time he is trying to empty a bottle of cognac in one gulp.

“Devil, father...the devil is taking her body for a spin!”

The priest spit out the remaining quarter of liquid on his mouth upon hearing the merchant. His sober self immediately take back the control of his senses as he quickly fix himself and gather his things.

“Call a cab outside Vic...wait me outside.” His eyes return to its normal luster as if he didn’t finish five bottles of liquor. He doesn’t even move sluggishly nor in a dizzying stupor which expected for someone who is completely drunken.

With just a mere word of Devil, the priest finally don his serious self.

“Simon, can you get me a bottle of wine?”

“Father Spin not this time...” The bar owner cross his arms and look at the priest with a dead set eyes. If this is a joke he might even considering breaking a bottle on the priest’s head to wake him up.

But Father Spinoza didn’t even break a smile. His eyes are lit with zealous fire that even the people at the saloon are surprised to see that their priest can exhume such grim expression.

“I don’t have a holy water here. That wine will be perfect alternative.”

“Well, you can have a water instead of wine.”

“Believe me...” Sensing that Simon won’t even take his words, he reach out for the wine with a label Sangreal near the bar.

“...Wine is better than water. Have you ever heard the story of the wedding in Canaan?” He wink at the shocked Simon and leave the saloon with nothing but his hand bag and a bottle of wine; his sole tools to combat the forces of evil that awaits him in the house of Victor.

“I told you Simon. That priest is crazy as shit. I told you!” The one who was interrupted a minute later by the arrival of the merchant laugh mockingly as his peers continue sipping on their beer and resume their poker game. 

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Victor’s house is a quintessential example of a Victorian mansion with luxurious design within and without of its walls. It was nearly the size of the Governor’s Hall and its maze like garden create a grand facade to it. Inside the house, all its decors and furniture are mixture of exquisite and exotic.

Although everyone knows Victor as an average merchant of textiles, nobody or perhaps few have only known that he is also into shady business;making his name popular among the underground. The seemingly well mannered merchant from St. Pio is actually handling all the biggest drug deals and prostitution rings and he deftly hide in the eyes of the law and in the eyes of the church.

Yet when his beloved wife found out all his shenanigans after their fight about a girl whom her wife caught with making “a deal” on a the top of their own bed, the karmic wheel begun to turn.

Her wife who is in perfect health suddenly become ill. No doctors can’t even tell what’s her malady nor why she is acting bizarre for nearly a month now.

Things get worst when she started speaking language that terrifies Victor and their only child Margaret. He try to castigate his wife after hearing her curse and swear them but the terror is not yet on its climax.

His wife attack him with a rage of a hundred men; beating him with scratches, kicks and punches that broke some of his ribs.He is about to retaliate even if he is battered but when he saw her body levitating in the air, he never even made a second thought: he ran as fast as can and utterly forgetting that he owns a brand new car that can only take him as quickly as 10 minutes to the bar.

“So this is Eleanor, your beloved wife.” Father Spin made commented as they enter the room and found a frail looking woman with hollow eyes staring at him with overwhelming contempt. She could be beautiful on her white nightgown and long, blond hair but her figure has lost all its curves. Her skin is nearly as white as paper and her plump lips is tinted in black.

“She is the most precious thing I ever have father. She is.” Victor faking his sob as he want to at least get the sympathy of the priest and conceal his guilt: that his infidelity might be the reason why her wife magnetized one of the devils from hell.

“Stop that Victor. Don’t you know that the Devil loves a liar like you?” The merchant went pale when he heard the response of the priest. How can this drunkard cleric know his secret?

“I once had a good drinking session with one of the underground people one night. He promise me that he will change his way after that. Now, let us begin and after this you too should change Victor.” Not a single trace of Father Spinoza’s former self is present in that room. Whatever might be his habits and mannerism before have vanished and replace by a zealous priest with calm yet deadly eyes; a holy warrior with no qualms of anything so long as he can do his job efficiently.

“Now tie her on her chair.” He commanded to Victor who is now a bit shaken for he doesn’t want to get any wounds or broken bones from his wife. But with no choice left, he reluctantly do what the priest says.

When he finished the arms and the feet of Eleanor, Father Spinoza added that the chair must also be tied to something heavy.

“Or else it will float like a feather during the rite.” He gravely said as he took a chalice on his bag.

“Now stand back and just be silent. When the demon talk to you, don’t answer it. Understand?”

“Y-yes, father.”

When all is set, Father Spin started the exorcism rite in a different version far from the official procedure taught by the Roman Catholic.

Kneeling  in front of the chalice, the priest begun with a sign of the cross. He pour the content of the wine bottle on his chalice and spoke one of the notable passage during the consecration of the bread and wine during the Holy Eucharist.

“This is my blood, the new and everlasting covenant.”

Eleanor create a high pitch scream as she heard the sacred passage from the liturgy. One by one all chandelier and the glass pane of the window begun to shatter in a synchronize explosion.

“Stop it you foolish priest! This woman is mine!!!” Black drool drip from Eleanor’s mouth as she smile with a crooked grin at Victor.

“She gave herself in exchange for this pig.”

But Father Spinoza didn’t even flinch. He continue uttering latin verses in fast yet intense manner with iron like concentration; not minding the chair of Eleanor already rising from the floor.

“The drunken priest...you think you can handle me? You think you can save your name by exorcising this martyr yet dumb woman?” Eleanor has also gone a hideous transformation; her voice now sounds like poison that learn to speak vile words. Her teeth sharpened and her eyelids now have a reptilian slit inside them.

“Here let me give you a hint: my name is Mammon.”

It was an open challenge for the priest as the devil give its name and let Father Spin try if he can expel him.

After a couple of seconds of chanting latin verses, Father Spinoza open his eyes and accepted the duel that the devil wanted to have by responding with another drink from his chalice. A toast so inappropriate it made the devil in Eleanor laugh in harrowing voice.

“Ha! I guess that’s how you raise your white flag then! Drink priest! That’s the only you are good at!”

Instead of swallowing the red wine on his mouth,  Father Spin lit his lighter in front of his face with his cheeks all puffed and ready. His illuminated countenance cast an eerie mask of divine providence about to deliver the pommel of heavenly wrath.

“Ignis Divina.”

Father Spinoza has no experience in circus or any other fancy amusement but the way he blow an angry stream of fire towards Eleanor is almost at par with a Fire Eater. The difference however lies with the fire they release: Father’s spin fire is not to entertain but to exterminate.

“What are you doing? You are burning her alive!” Victor exclaim in rage that made him tore his hair as he saw her wife immolated alive. The more she scream in infernal torment the more Victor wanted to approach her. But then again fear sets in and froze him on his place.

“Stand back Victor. Your wife is safe.” Calmly Father Spin assured the merchant while he watch cautiously the fire swirl as if it was a sentient being crawling in and out of Eleanor’s body. When he heard that two voices seems to fight one another by volume within the enclave of flame, the priest started another chant.

“Damn you! Damn you priest!” It was the last word of Eleanor before fire thin out and until what remains is black smoke rising from the eyes and mouth of Victor’s wife like a chimney expelling a thick mass of cloud after being clogged for a long time.

“Here she is. Safe and sound.”

Victor doesn’t understand if this was actually an act of God or the priest knew a thing about magic. Her wife, though naked with all the fabrics of her clothes turns to ashes, has no burn marks at all. No traces of fire save by the burnt scent and the smoke coming from her.

“She’s unconscious for now. But she is safe now from the Devil.” The rite was ended by Father Spin with a final sign of the cross.

“H-how did y--.”

“Don’t question the power of the Lord Victor. Now, a deal is a deal..” After saying a short prayer he approach Victor who is now with her wife. A leather bound Bible is on the priest’s hand.

“Give me your hand Victor...”

The merchant swallow hard as he realize what the priest wanted to do.

“Your wife suffer for you. Now its your turn to do your share.”

What conspire that night made the merchant understand the forces concealed behind the veils of good and evil. He witness both the destructive and horrifying that which belong to the dark side  and the wrath of divine judgment aim towards all things that is evil.

“Make a vow in the name of the Lord that you will never sin nor cross the line that divides the righteous from the Evil One.”

“I understand, Father.” It is easy to decide what side you will choose but the most difficult part is how you will live by it knowing that all the temptations is just around the corner.

“Righteousness is like a strong liquor Victor...at first it will take guts to get used to its taste. But keep on drinking it and you will notice how precious and how good its flavor.”

Victor put his right on the Bible and with all his heart, mind and soul he swear, in respect and in fear, that he will strive to drink this liquor until he learn to savor it.

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“But I don’t understand...”

“What part didn’t you understand? Victor’s sudden change of heart?” Simon chuckle as the crowd inside the saloon started to get ridiculously loud. All of them has only one topic to boast with one another until they emptied all the bottles in the bar: the miracle of Father Spinoza, the drunken priest.

“No, Simon. Even I will go to mass every Sunday when I also see what Victor saw that night...What I am asking is how the hell a wine can exorcise the devil?”

“Isn’t that supposed  to be a general knowledge?”

“What? We don’t even understand how the hell did the wife of Victor never get burned in the first place?” The crowd can not find any logic behind the fire that never burns the flesh. Those who have some tid bits of knowledge of exorcism can’t even understand why the rite that was done by Father Spin is an utter deviation of the church’s teaching.

“Father Spinoza had been explaining it to us all night long how Alcohol, no matter what kind brand or strength it is, can extract the essence of the one’s spirit.” Simon found it funny that upon hearing his explanation, the crowd abruptly cease on their drinking frenzy. Their face have this awkward fear and disgust look that the bar owner can’t help but to laugh out loud until his stomach hurt.

“If only you will bear to listen to him when he is drunk, then probably you will know also that his method of exorcism, though effective, was frowned by the clergy. That is the reason why he never have his license as an exorcist. He still complain about that once in a while.” The bar owner still recall how in rare occasion Father Spin express his anger even to the church itself. He can’t stand some of its dogma and its close minded ideology that restrict it so much it never even try to go outside its ivory tower.

“B-but, is it strange that only the spirit of Devil was extracted from Eleanor and not her own?”

“Good question...”

The man of the hour arrive just in time to finally enlighten his flock who is now more eager to listen him whether he is sober or not. The incident at Victor’s mansion spread like a smoke from afire that seems to never die for years to come. Those who despise the priest is now shouting nothing but praise and awe to him. The church is filled once more every Sunday.

Nonetheless, the priest remains laid back and continue to live his daily routine in between church services and drinking at the saloon.

“Because what I used is a holy wine. A blessed alcohol will not hurt any soul for they too are sacred.It will only burn the vile and corrupted like the Devil himself.” The priest explained while motioning Simon for a bottle of Jack.

“Body eating spirit...that’s meaning of alcohol from its Arabic origin.”

It was the first time to see people in the saloon glued to their seat and intensely listen to preach of their priest even though he is speaking a topic void of any connection to the Gospel.

“Now don’t be scared...as I am telling you for almost a year alcohol is good and divine. Just be moderate.” He smiled at them as take a swig from his bottle.

“Well, This night is an exception for one of the sheep of God was saved from the clutch of Evil One. So let’s drink and be merry! Drinks on me!” And the fun drunk priest once again returning back to his old self.

Everyone roar with unhinged enthusiasm upon hearing the last words of Father Spin. Surely tomorrow the saloon will be empty as hell after the priest proclaiming that booze will flood until dawn.

“Man, just be sure you’ll pay me on time Father.” Simon scratch his head but manage to make a weak smile to his favorite customer.

It was a night where everybody is saying cheers to their now beloved priest. Some even offer a song for him as they express their new found reverence to the priest.

But Father Spinoza just smile and remain busy filling himself with booze. Despite finishing 6 bottles, he is still surprisingly sober and unaffected by any kick of alcohol.

“My God, good thing they didn’t ask.” He whisper to himself as he exhale with pained relief.

“Drink in moderation...that is something I can’t do.” He chuckle silently as he stare at the glass pane in the bar and saw his reflection that bears an image that he didn’t want to see by anyone, else they might forgotten their sanity in an instant.

Swirling like the great old tempter of the Eden, fire and black smoke slithering all over his huge frame as if it was trying to wrapped him in diabolic warmth. Then its head approach Father Spinoza’s ears as if it is saying something that no soul can bear to hear.

“You can’t have me, hellspawn. Never until this world runs out of liquor.”

He raise his glass to himself and drink another round of alcohol; letting the liquor do its work of eating away the spirits that he has been exorcising for his entire life.