Father Tyson came closer, pulled out a sheaf of papers, and began to read from them. It was a copy of His Holiness, Pope Leo XIII’s prayer for use in performing what the Catholic church terms a “simple exorcism to curb the power of the devil and prevent him from doing harm.” Tyson began: “Glorious Prince of the Celestial Host, St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in the conflict …” More demonic chuckles interrupted Father Tyson’s reading. He tried to continue, “… which we have to sustain against principalities and powers, against the rulers of the world of this darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in …”



Smoke began to rise slowly at first from the papers in his hands. A heavy black haze blanketed Tyson’s head and face. He gasped for air, choked, and backed away. The exorcism prayer fell from his hands. It burst into flames, burned brightly, then went out. All that remained was a small pile of unrecognizable soot and ashes.

 

“That ridiculous bullshit won’t work on me!” retorted Linus. He was in the midst of yet another laughing jag. “You should know better! Those are just fancy words! Meaningless vulgarities! Don’t they teach you anything in those seminaries? Take another good look on the floor! Look, God damn it!”



At first Tyson was afraid to glance down. He stood shaking, staring blankly into space. Then he did look down as Linus had ordered. The demon continued, “See what I think of your god-damned trivial speech! It’s worthless! Garbage! Scum! It does absolutely nothing to me, you black-frocked, feeble-minded moron! Only a mentally defective fool would believe in that kind of trash!”

 

“Okay, you’ve had your fun for today. You’ve made your point,” interrupted Rogers.


demon
Karen tensed. It was as if the demon knew what was coming next. Rogers motioned for the others to join him. Each placed a hand on Karen’s head. Her skin was still beet-red, but it now felt cold and clammy. Karen flinched, but did not struggle. Rogers, Sister Ruth, and Donald Sutter all began: “In Jesus name, come out! On the blood of Jesus, depart!” The chant continued unceasingly for ten minutes.



“I command you, by the power vested in me by Jesus Christ, to come forth this instant!” shouted Rogers. The others gripped Karen’s head with both hands while Rogers held his open Bible to her. There was no response. There was no movement. Rogers repeated the order, over and over and over.



Finally, on the seventh such command, the spirit named Linus started to protest and cry out! Pure hatred erupted from Karen’s mouth. Curses filled the air! Guttural sounds accompanied the profanities. Karen shook violently for a moment, then foamed at the mouth. She began to gag. Then all was serene.



Without warning, Karen began bouncing up and down in her chair, like a puppet on a string. The bright red cast could be seen slowly leaving her face and body. The voice from within now started pleading. He spoke in fearful tones. “I’m going! I’m going! You’re hurting me! It’s killing me! The pain is unbearable! Please, please, please. Let me get out of here! Let me alone! Oh, shit! It hurts!”



It all happened quickly, within a matter of seconds. Linus had left. The horror was finally over. Not a sound could be heard in the room. Karen’s natural coloring returned. The blisters had miraculously disappeared, as if they had not ever been there. There was not a thread of evidence left that the child’s flesh had nearly been scorched.



But even more surprisingly, her unsightly complexion had cleared. There were no more pimples. All signs of her pockmarks were gone. The ugly open, running sores had not only been healed instantaneously–they had left no scars in their wake!