Conduit

"If you find this, it's probably too late already. And I'm sorry."

It was by complete happenstance that I found it, yet I felt like I was drawn to it. While travelling for work one day I noticed an overgrown backroad I hadn’t seen on my GPS, no signs, no indication it was even there. Being curious, I took the short detour and took the rock road to just see where it led, no further intentions beyond my own curiosity. Furthering down the poor excuse for a road there was a small turn around, nothing but trees surrounding the entire area. My only thought was that there may have been a house back here at one time that had since been demolished and turned around to head back. That’s when I saw it.

Tucked back behind a small cluster of trees it stood, barely, decrepit yet unwavering. It was an old run-down church, paint peeling and chipping from the wooden lap siding, some windows intact and some broken, the doors now replaced with peeled painted plywood and padlocked chain holding it shut, the glass arch over the door since covered with what looked like paper and tape. As bad as the building looked, the landscaping was neatly manicured aside from some overgrown vegetation closer to it. Someone was at the least trying to half-ass take care of it, sort of, but the question stood in the back of my mind, what kind of church? Not that I particular care about religion, but it’s always neat to see an old church sign that states something along the lines of “Welcome All, Church of God, Pastor Francis W. Eldridge”, however, there was nothing to allude to it was even a church other than the shape of the building.

To me, this was the extent of my “find”, nothing. An old church-like building, and nothing else of value to take note of, I did take a picture for posterity’s sake because it was a cool looking building. I grabbed my notebook and jotted something down about it and closed it up. With that, I took my leave and went about my business, the church already gone from my mind. Following the road back out, I continued to my jobsite and finished my workday flawlessly. It wasn’t until that evening that I thought about it again, somewhere in the back of my mind I wanted to look at the picture. I left my couch to grab my phone from where it was on the charger and unlocked it, opening the photo gallery I clicked the picture of the church. It looked the exact same as when I was there, but something seemed off. It felt almost as if the picture was studying me just as much as I was studying it. I immediately grabbed my laptop and opened it up, syncing my phone to it, I transferred the image over so I could enhance it and look at it better. Were those eyes in one of the windows? A person? Maybe. It was getting late, so my eyes were likely playing tricks on me, so I shut everything down and just called it a night, letting the church leave my mind, and going to sleep.

I had to go back. There was something about it that just left me with that feeling of unsatisfaction and I needed to know why. Now, I try to claim to be a smart man, so I dialed up a friend to tag along with me, she was into this kind of stuff as well and would enjoy a short getaway. Throwing some stuff in the back of my truck, I set off to pick her up, and we were on our way. Brief side note here, she claims to be a "witch" and to be honest, knows quite a lot when it comes to those kinds of things, where I, on the other hand am more of a paranormal enthusiast, our interests align in that respect. Showing her the picture on the drive, we were coming up with all kinds of crazy stories of the building, but nothing prepared us for what IT really was.

Upon our arrival there was nothing out of the ordinary, but for the sake of caution, I pulled around behind the church to park out of sight. Now, like I said, I'm a paranormal enthusiast, to the extent that I have the little gadgets, EVP recorder, EMF detector, a thermal imaging camera, temperature gun, various boom mics, a good set of headphones, the works; and it's all situated in a backpack that I keep with me at all times for interesting "finds" like this. I don't get all crazy with the information I find, but I do like to write about it and look over some of the photos and what not, just because it's fascinating and would be awesome to find something. My friend on the other hand has a flashlight, some book in all Latin, and a small bag she keeps with her that has some crystals and salt in it. Total professionals. We got out with our gear and walked up to the church to start looking around. All my fancy little tools led me to nothing out of the ordinary, no spikes on the EMF, just an overall sense of wariness. As I do, without thinking, I approached what could only be assumed was a door and gave it a try, and to my surprise it opened. I pulled out a little container with a note from earlier in it and placed it next to a rock out front, then I gave my friend a grin saying "Hey, this door is wide open", and walked inside, pretty sure I caught her rolling her eyes as she tailed behind.

What we were greeted with inside was just an old run-down church. Dust covering near every inch of the place, cobwebs where you would expect them, bibles laying open on random pews, normal. The pair of us began walking around checking things out, her with her flashlight and overall badassery, and me with some fancy gadgets. Just as I was about to give up and call it a day, she called out informing me that she found something weird. As I approached, she pointed toward the altar, following her direction I noticed another opened book laying open on it, free from dust. Looking over the book I had no idea what I was looking at, it was all foreign to me, hearing her audible sigh of disbelief she explained what it was. It was the Ars Goetia from the Lemegeton Clavicula Salomonis, the first book from The Lesser Key of Solomon she pointed out, a grimoire of sorts that speaks of a total of 72 demons and the means to invoke them. This of course piqued my interest; someone must have been here recently since this book was clear of dust unlike everything else.

This is about the point that we should have just packed it up and left, and I wish I would have listened to that instinct instead of being an idiot and continuing on. What we found was not meant for us, or for any normal person to see, yet we did, and I woefully regret making her come with me. I pulled out the temperature gun and started looking around the area surrounding the altar at this point, noticing about a fifteen degree drop near the middle of it and twenty plus at the bottom. Without even thinking, something just compelled me to do it, I grabbed the altar and pushed it back. To both our surprise, it slid backward with ease, opening the floor below it to expose a set of stone stairs leading down. Shining our flashlights down, we could see the stairs descending into the darkness in a spiral pattern, no railing, and not an end we could see from the angle we were. Looking at my friend and getting the nod of approval, we ventured into the unknown darkness.

Several minutes had passed and we reached the bottom, and like my gauge detected, noticeably colder. At the base of the stairs we were standing on solid ground, hard concrete that had seen plenty of wear that exposed the stone foundation underneath in areas. Other than that the room was barren, blank stone walls that displayed various degrees of erosion, but one brick stood out for the way it was worn down. Most of the wall was rough cut stone, the edges a bit jagged and coarse, where this particular spot was smooth and indented, like it had been touched a lot. She tried to stop me, fuck I wish I would have listened, but I placed my hand on it and gave it a push. Nothing. Sighing again, god...her sigh...I should have picked up on the desperation in her tone. She came up next to me and placed her hand on a lower stone, just as smooth, and pushed it. Taking her lead, I pushed mine in as well, watching as the stones slid back. As they eased backwards, a foul and sickening stench seeped through the now exposed doorway leading into an even darker area of this cellar of sorts. Overcome with the smell of rot and decay, we readied our flashlights like we were about to perform a breach straight from an 80s cop show, entering the room, and pivoting to each corner.

This was it. This is what I wanted to find. Something worth writing about. I wish I knew then how much it was going to cost me. Adorning the walls to the left and right of us were three stone shelves built into the wall, about six foot wide and six shelves per section. On the shelves sat various items ranging from bones to books, half empty vials of liquid and trinkets. Between each section hung a cross, large and iron, two per wall, all four inverted. The floor was covered in as much dust as one would expect, making it barely possible to tell if the floor was stone or dirt. Approaching one of the shelves we glanced through the relics, her to the liquid and me to the trinkets first, noting that most of the items were of varying religions to an extent, they all had some kind of meaning behind them. The miscellaneous liquids were all shared a high viscosity, being almost gel-like. Before moving to the other shelves, I made a point to flip the crosses to their upright positions, we then approached the other shelves, her to the books and me to the bones, with me rotating these crosses as well. As I noticed the human skull, she let out an audible gasp, the remaining four books of the Lesser Key; Ars Theurgia-Goetia, Ars Paulina, Ars Almadel, and Ars Notoria, were there in front of her. Exchanging glances and a brief discussion led us to decide to snap some pictures and get the hell out of there.

In my hurried state, I spun around to grab my bag that I sat on a nearby stone table, I slipped on a loose rock and fell. Grabbing for something to hold catch myself, I managed to pull my friend down on top of me. Of course, we both felt our skin crawl as it seemed too convenient to fall at this moment, we'd seen our share of bad horror movies. I rolled out from under her and got to my feet, dusting myself off, I turned to reach out to help her up. Noticing she was not even acknowledging me anymore; I followed her gaze to the now dust-free spot I formerly occupied. Etched there in the stone floor were lines, dropping back to my knees, we both began furiously wiping the dust away to see what lay below the dirty floor. As the sigil below became clearer and clearer, a pentacle was first visible with other shapes inside of a circle, letters surrounding it, spelling out THASTAR, and I had no idea what it meant. Shooting me a look which screamed "idiot", my friend brushed away once last bit of dirt, exposing an O, leaving me thoroughly confused. Not that neither one of us could speak, it's just that we more less knew what the other was saying with a look, she pointed at an A first, then the S, and made a circle gesture with her hand, clarifying the correct order. "Astaroth? Like hail Astaroth? Commander of forty legions worth of demons? The Great Duke of Hell? Part of the evil trinity with Beelzebub and Lucifer?" The instant jaw drop she expressed should have been a clear sign of my mistake, but it faded from view as quick as it came.

As if almost the instant I finished my sentence, the four crosses creaked slowly back to their inverted positions and dust swept up through the room as if an ocean breeze just blew through a patio door. Immediately the room became alive with disembodied voices surrounding us, drowning out any and all sounds. One voice stood out the most to me, and it was the quietest one of all, repeating itself in the same tone and tempo, "He's watching...", and this put me on edge. This is what she was sighing about, this is what the looks and everything was for, she knew I was going to do my usual and screw something up and get us into a jam, she was there when it happened before and witnessed it firsthand. Noticing she was about to bolt for the door, I spun around to grab my bag, and as my hand was grasping around the straps she screamed out "NO!!!". See, the "stone table" that I laid it on, it wasn't just a table, it was a sacrificial altar, and with my history, I let him out.

There are a few things I failed to mention at the beginning of this story. Aside from being an empath, I'm what you call a "conduit". And not that hippie conduit where I give off a spiritual energy and it feeds others "so be positive" bullshit. No, not that. The other kind, the scarier kind. The kind of conduit that acts as a link between their realm and ours, a doorway into our world. Spirits and demons alike can, at will, in moments of vulnerability, take hold of me and more or less taken possession over my body. With that out of the way, I do not offer myself up as being vulnerable, not since the first time it happened when something was trying to leech off of my very essence. I protect myself with all kinds of different things, holy items and crystals, blessed totems and the like. However, with a something as powerful as him, as Astaroth, and the fact that I was standing in his summoning sigil and came into indirect contact with the sacrificial altar, this left me in the most vulnerable state possible. It was as easy to him as it would have been for a toddler to rip through wet toilet paper. As my consciousness faded out, that last thing I saw on her face was shock and complete failure as the tears stained her cheeks, knowing she could do nothing for me she turned and fled up the stairs. And that was all I remembered.

At least it was until today. The thing about being "taken over" is that you don't feel it, you kind of just go into a coma, you are in a dream-like state, nothing that YOU do anymore is actually you. Maybe a plus, but the real plus is that since demons are pretty powerful, your body kind of doesn't age, so maybe it's a win? So, why now? Why all of a sudden? Remember that note I wrote at the beginning of all this, and the container that I hid? I typically don't do things half-cocked and I like to make sure there is always a contingency plan in place, albeit is sometimes delayed. The beginning of this story started in 2001, and it's now 2022, and someone found my container. The church was finally bought and had been renovated some years ago, the caretaker came across the small plastic box when he was digging up some old brush. Inside of my container was a picture of me with my note:

"If you find this, it's probably too late already. And I'm sorry. I have died, or they finally broke in and took me for their vessel. All I ask of you, dear reader, find me, the man in the picture. If it leads you to an obituary, stop here. If it leads you to me, the person, read further.

I dabble into paranormal research and investigating, and I typically take precaution before doing so. But something as of late has been pulling me, harder than any time before, trying to get me to go somewhere of an unknown destination. So, if you find me, assume it is not me. Take precaution, and please, take action. If you find "me", I promise there has been a trail of death left behind in "my" wake. End the unnecessary death of innocent people and end my internal suffering.

I beg of you."

Through the church, and members of the clergy, the caretaker had found "me". They acted as I had asked and taken care of the situation. Yet, here I am, writing my story. I would love to tell you that they decimated the foul demon that took residence in my body for two decades, that my body and consciousness was somehow preserved after the fact, but I can't lie. They did find a way to rid my body of the demon, they tried countless exorcisms, hypnotherapy, they tried electroshock therapy, they tried everything. In the end, my body died, Astaroth made it out and took the body of an unsuspecting spectator, and me?

Well, I'm inside of you.

Story written by Phreak