The women sighed as one, reluctantly yielding to the story’s end as they watched the dream fade. Opening their eyes, smiling at one another.
‘Hey,’ Hazel sat up. ‘Where’s Ina?’
‘She was here just a moment ago…or so I thought,’ said Rita, unsure of her memory. Looking around, Ina was nowhere to be seen.
‘Where could she have gone?’ asked Hazel.
‘And why did she leave without telling us?’ followed Rita.
‘No matter, we need to find her. Let’s go,’ commanded Estelle.
The women strode into the forest, headed toward their home, calling for her.
‘Maybe she went home to get dinner,’ suggested Hazel, always hopeful for the best. The others regarded her warily, unwilling to speak their hearts.
After what seemed like hours of searching, Estelle came upon Ina, who was carrying wood into a cave. Without a word, Ina walked past Estelle into the cave. In the center of the cave a small fire burned, casting shadows of the women onto the walls as they entered. Despite the fire, a chill filled the air.
‘It’s not all lollipops and pigtails,’ Ina stated flatly.
Concerned, the women gathered quietly by the fire, watching Ina stack the wood against the wall. They had seen her in this state before and worried for her.
A draft blew in from cave’s bowels, replacing the chill with a bitter cold that penetrated the women’s winter coats and chilled their hearts. Ina turned slowly, looking into the heart of the cave. A reddish black miasma cleaved to the breeze, its mass weighing down the breeze and so that it crept just above the ground.
And before their eyes, it materialized into a phantasma of terrible mien, its gaping mouth spewing a putrescent yellow cloud. Indifferent to the women, it set its sights on Ina.
Terror danced in Ina’s eyes, her breath shallow, her body immobile. The phantasma enveloped her in its crushing grip. Hazel screamed and leapt toward Ina, only to be caught securely in Rita’s arms. Struggling, Hazel screamed, ‘Let me go! Can’t you…’ Estelle, staring at the horror, silently raised her hand warning Hazel to stop.
The apparition had hoisted Ina ten feet in the air, smirking wickedly as her head, arms and legs, flaccid, dangled from her inert body. Then, it hurled her against the wall and her body slumped to the ground.
The concussive force knocked all the women cold.
The women awakened into a nightmare. Ina lay motionless on the ground, the phantasma mutating into a monster, then a man, then pure evil. Its silent laugh filled the air with a shriek that tore at the women’s ear drums. It’s mouth opened and the screech formed into words.
‘You didn’t tell them your real name!’ it wailed. ‘Tell them! Tell them!’ it taunted. Ina lay motionless. ‘Okay, I’ll tell them you filthy, smelly b…h! Yes, that’s it! Remember?! Filthy, smelly bi…h! Filty, smelly bi…h!’ Over and again, a chorus composed in hell.
Now all the women, mortified, called to Ina, but their voices stuck in their throats. They strained to stand, run to her aid. But they couldn’t move, their bodies plastered to the ground, held by the same force that stole their voices.
Helpless and horrified, they were forced to witness the cruelty, the shrill laughter, the malevolence, and the hysterical delight as the phantasm inflicted untold torment on Ina. A bloody shard appeared, and the phantasm laughed. Slashing, ripping, tearing at her, it screamed in delight.
Suddenly, the wind caught its hand, knocking the shard to the ground. Shrieking, it lurched to the source, but crashed to the ground, bound tightly by an energetic chord. Then a hand materialized and covered its mouth, silencing it. Hysterical, it twisted and turned to no avail, loathing filling the hollows where eyes might have been.
A brilliant white light radiated from the hand and danced in front of the phantasm. It shone on Ina, then the women, finally returning to hover above the phantasm. Gently the light settled over the monster, love layered onto hate, dissolving, transforming hot red fear into white light. Martha appeared, gathered the light into her arms and disappeared into the night.
Thunderstruck but able to move once again, the women hurried to Ina who lay motionless on the ground. Hazel, trembling and tearful, kneeled by her side, touched her face tenderly, held her hand, crying, ‘Come back, Ina. Please come back!’ The others gathered around Ina and Hazel, holding, touching, praying, weeping.
Then the light reappeared and shone on Ina. The women stepped back, pulling Hazel alongside. The light shimmered, transformed, and Martha reappeared.
Taking Ina in her arms, Martha enfolded her in pure love, filled her with white light, breathed chi into her lungs. Slowly Ina opened her eyes, and a single tear streamed down her face. Martha gathered up the tear and held it to the light. A rainbow swept across the dome of the cave.
Ina's story is gifted to honor all those souls
who have suffered at the hand of evil incarnate.
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