Nessie’s Demon

Occult fiction is described for works dealing with witchcraft, spiritualism, psychic phenomena, voodooism, etc., and for works dealing with the mysterious or secret knowledge and power supposedly attainable only through these and other magical or supernatural means. I wanted to use a story that I wrote over a year ago but it’s not on any of my USBs or my computer. A little heartbroken that I can’t find it but I’m going to do the best I can from memory. Who knows I may like this version better than the one I started. This is a long story but I edited a LOT out to shorten the length.

I karate chopped the alarm clock. I’m second guessing the loud and obnoxious tone I chose but whatever gets me out of bed. I rolled over and felt the warmth of Shamrock’s body. I had a wonderful pitbull that was loyal and kind but could also come to work with me. Her appearance of breed alone kept idiots from acting out. Owning a bar is fun and all and I do work at least once a week but there is one night a year that it’s mandatory for me to work. Mardi Gras has its origins, secret societies, and history but there is another realm that only a few know about and even less have experienced.

My feet hit the wood floor of my plantation home that was passed down through the family. It was a bed and breakfast for a decade until my family came to own the bar that is now our source of income. It was 2pm which gave me plenty of time to shower, dress, eat, and get to work to set up. You would think that I need to set up the bar but no that’s why I have employees to do the work. I have to set up for the demonic entity that comes every 75 years to win back the gate that he lost during a bet.

My great great grandmother ran the bed and breakfast. She decided to go to town with my great great grandfather to enjoy the festivities, food, and grab a drink. We weren’t a religious family and that was acceptable in New Orleans. They walked into the bar when a demon and the bar owner were in the middle of settling terms to a bet. My grandmother was the winning part of the bet on the bar owner’s behalf. Everyone else saw a beautiful, young, dark-haired man when my grandmother saw the demon for who it was. The demon had bet the bar owner that if no one comes in and can see his true demonic form that it would win the bar back and would be able to trap souls again. If a person was able to come in and see it for what the demon was he couldn’t come back to the bar for 75 years. My grandmother walked in, seen him, and saved the night.

Over the next 10 years, the bar owner explained what needed to happen to keep the bar patrons and New Orleans safe. When the bar owner got sick in old age the owner asked my grandmother to take over. Over the years through Mardi Gras, my grandmother made the necessary preparations to keep the demon at bay and passed the cursed story through generations to come. So here I am, getting ready for the 75th year reunion. I wasn’t nervous because I have the same sight as my grandmother. I got dressed, had my black coffee and over easy eggs with toast, grabbed the apples and candles then headed to work. I only had one other bartender working with me, my brother. He was already there making sure the corner of the bar was reserved for our special guest.

‘Hey Nessie, got your rest?’ I smiled at J.T. as Shamrock went prancing ahead of me to greet her human uncle. ‘Hey Shammy, you keeping mommy on schedule? It’s a major night tonight. Y’all ready?’
I tossed the apples on the bar, ‘Afternoon J.T., did you remember grandfather’s engraved bar stool? And the iron shavings?’ I asked getting the masks set up by the door.
‘All set, the demon’s spot is set up at the end of the bar. The barstool has a circle of iron shavings around it and the bottle of absinthe is ready with the silver lined shot glass.’

The masks were to hide the identity of whoever may see the demonic form. We wish to keep the bar in the family as we now don’t want to burden anyone else with this responsibility. The barstool is for demonic being and is engraved with a binding spell to keep him from renigging on his end and confined to the stool which is why there will be a circle of iron shavings to work as a boundary. The apples represent knowledge and they are cut to reveal the star shape created by the seeds. This is to envoke a new seer. The silver lined shot glass and absinthe is to bind the demon’s tongue from cursing anyone. The silver makes the alcohol look more appealing no matter what it is.

J.T., Shamrock, and I were behind the bar serving customers and making sure that all of our patrons are adhering to the, ‘no mask, no service,’ rule. The music was great and so far no bar fights or arguments. When the clock struck twelve the door flew open. Everyone saw a beautiful young woman walk in when J.T. and I saw the demon. Shamrock warned us by sounding her low deep growl. It strolled over to it’s designated barstool thanks to the shiny shot glass. Once it seated it howled but everyone else heard laughter.
‘Hello, Nessie. I’ve been waiting to meet you. I see your family has prepared you well,’ the entity said as it downed the liquid revealing a realizing what it had done. An evil eye landed on Nessie and her brother.
‘Realizing  I don’t have to go into details about the bet, the only thing that will stand in the way of me coming back into ownership and opening the gate to let more demons through to this world. So, it goes without saying, let an innocent see me for what I am I go back to hell for 75 years if no one sees me then the bar and gate are mines.’ I smiled realizing the bet was already won. I always prided myself on how clever I was with bets and all. There is a reason I never married and had kids. A reason why I wasn’t considered spoiled.

The evening was successful. The demonic was hit on by several young men but everyone had on masks so they were safe. Bar time came and everyone left. J.T. smiled as he cleaned up the mess and starting stocking the back bar.
‘I won! I won! I knew this day would come. Nessie, give me the key and I’ll let you leave without any harm being done to your family and mutt,’ the demon said with a sneer revealing several rows of sharp teeth. I patted Shamrock on the head as she stayed by my side.
‘You didn’t win the bet or your bar back. The bet is, that an innocent needs to come in and see you for what you really are. Well, sorry to disappoint you but this isn’t your bar. You lost the minute you came in.’ The smile started to fade slowly.
‘An innocent was already in the bar and already seen your true identity through the floozy facade. Me, I’m still a virgin so it’s mine and my families for the next 75 years.’ His grin reappeared.
‘I can bide my time for another 75 years. The cleverness backfired on you. You’re getting too old to have your own children and with your families line ending with you, the only hope that you have is that an innocent walks into the bar.’ He said while he started to vaporized from his hoofs slowly moving up.’
I smiled, ‘Oh demon. You aren’t clever at all, just evil. I expected more from you as an adversary. Have you met my brother J.T.? No, I guess you haven’t since you’ve been dealing with me the entire night.’ The demon shot an evil look over at my brother who just waved.’
‘You see, I may not have any children of my own but I make a wonderful aunt to 6 beautiful boys and girls. All of which have the sight and are being raised with a family bedtime story. When they are old enough they will learn the truth. So, good luck ever getting this place back. ‘Sometimes a person’s sacrifice isn’t really one at all, just a different path in life for the greater good.’ Those were the last words I said as the demon finished vanishing to the underworld.


I have to do this now for reasons I’m not going into. 

The Puppets in the Woods

A ghost story may be any piece of fiction, or drama, that includes a ghost, or simply takes as a premise the possibility of ghosts or characters’ belief in them. Colloquially, the term “ghost story” can refer to any kind of scary story. I couldn’t pass this up since I was once upon a time a part of a paranormal research group. So I thought I would take one of my experiences with them and add a little oomph to it. Settle in, it’s a long one.

It was the summer of 1999 and Y2k was approaching fast. I had just graduated from high school and decided that a haunted road trip would be the cure to my mundane life. Since I was a little girl I heard the warning tale around a campfire that in the end was designed to warn the young to check the back seat or to not make out on back roads. I’m going to the Big Woods.

I just told my dad that I was going on a road trip and would be back in a few days and that it was something I needed to do to clear my head before figuring out the rest of my life. He gave me his handgun and an extra $100. ‘Jo, if you’re going to camp do it in a park, not on someone’s land or on the side of the road in a clearing. I don’t want you to be another tragic story on the news. I bit my lip thinking about the news and how devastating it would be for him to make a speech about bringing me home safe. I could feel the guilt rising in my throat. Then the confidence of my youth screamed for me to go for it.

I kissed my father on the cheek, through his duffle bag that he lent me in the back seat on top of my cooler full of ice, Dr. Peppers, and sandwiches and pulled out of the driveway. I got choked up a little as I saw my father getting smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. I reached into my bag and grabbed the mixtape of 80’s music that my father made for me, pushed it in the radio and hit play. I sipped from my Dr. Pepper and belted out in a tone def song the words to Cher’s ‘Just Like Jesse James’.

For a few hours, it was me, my tunes, and the open road. I knew I was getting close to the landmarks I would pass. Places that I put together the town fold would talk about. I passed the tree that was hit by lightning that was now shaped like a spider. I crossed over the wooden bridge with the railroad tracks. Supposedly this was another haunted spot but that didn’t interest me. My next landmark of the water tower should be coming up and it would also be time for me to pull over at the campground and settle in for the night. I didn’t see the water tower but found the campground. I pulled into a spot in the back and set my tent up. The firepit was ready and decided a hot dog was a great celebratory dinner with a side of chips and washed down with another Dr. Pepper. I kept the fire burning and fell asleep.

The brightness of the morning woke me along with my hunger. I made bacon and eggs over the fire. That’s one thing my dad made sure I knew to do was cooking over an open fire. After breakfast, I packed my things, put the fire out and headed out. I drove for over an hour and didn’t see my next landmark. I know I turned in the right direction by the dirt road that I was on. There was a thicket of trees that lined both sides of the road towering overhead causing a depth of darkness that wasn’t right. It was more dark than light even though it was now past 11am. I started to get hungry but there really wasn’t anywhere to pull off to the side and have my roadside picnic lunch. The road really wasn’t that big enough to have two lanes of traffic but I was able to pull off into a small clearing. Big enough for a car. It was almost big enough for one car wreck. ‘Why only one car?’ I thought.

I sat there eating my sandwich when I noticed that there weren’t any sounds. No birds, no bugs, no cars passing on the highway off in the distance, no wind, no nothing. The hair on my neck started to stand on end and I started to feel like someone was watching me. I nonchalantly turned and seen that no one was there. I took a sip of my canned Dr. Pepper and that was the only sound. My breath and me swallowing my soda. It felt like something was standing right behind me but when I turned around nothing was there, just a wall of woods. I felt there was an urgency to get in the car. Almost like my life was in danger. I grabbed everything and tried to cooly walk to the car if there was someone watching me. I wanted to get to the gun under the seat. I was afraid that if I ran whoever if anyone was watching me would jump out and come after me. But nothing. I got into the car and started back onto the road. I was looking at the trees but I should have been looking in front of me. I looked up in time to slam on my brakes and slid to a stop.

What was in front of me I should have seen from where I had lunch. Infront was the largest wooden gate I had ever seen. The gate had been there so long that moss was growing on the front. In fact, it looked like it hadn’t been opened in decades and what’s even odder is that there was a chain around it. I sat there looking at it in awe and still heard no sound. I locked the doors and looked at the map. It looked like I was going to have to drive in reverse all the way to the main road and then back to the highway. I folded the map, threw the car in reverse and nearly ran into the wooden gate.

‘How in the hell?’ I said out loud with more fear than curiosity. It was like night fell already inside this gated area. I wasn’t about to get out of the car and decided that the best thing for me to do was to drive ahead a little way and turn around. If the gate isn’t open I’ll ram the bitch until it does open. I started forward when a fog rolled over the hood of my vehicle. I could hear wood against metal and looked over to see an old woman bent over a huge kettle, stirring with a huge wooden spoon. Looking closer I could see that she hadn’t showered in a while. Her hair was stringy and oily. She stopped, jerked up with speed that wasn’t becoming of her age and stared at me. She grinned and licked her lips. I checked the door lock when I saw her neighbor’s shack and gate. At the front of the gate instead of having something normal like a mailbox, there was an entire pigs head on a stick facing me.

I found a place to turn around and headed back towards the gate. This time passing the old woman I notice that she had a few more people around her. All looked filthy and sinister at best. Then I heard something like a gunshot and felt the car start to limp. Then there was the familiar sound of the flopping of a blown tire. I wasn’t getting out of this car. No way in hell was I stepping foot out of this car, I would just flop along. My windshield was hit with something dark and wet. Mud? Now, whoever or whatever was slinging mud at my windshield. I should be at the gate by now. More mud, less visibility, and still galloping along until the fog gave way to the gate. It still had the chain around it. I started to recognize that my car would not be able to bust this gate open. Something crashed on the hood but it didn’t sound like anyone was on it. I could hear something dinging off the side of my car. Rocks? There was no use screaming for help. I accepted the fact that I may not see my father again. My head fell on the steering wheel and I began to cry. Huge sobs and me pleading for me to get through this and promising I would never do anything so stupid again. The car started shaking and I reached for the gun and prepared to make a last stand. I looked up from grabbing the gun when the gate was behind me. I didn’t ask questions nor did I hesitate. I just gunned it.

The wooded road gave way to light and the main road. I didn’t stop to change my tire until I was safely at a gas station where there were plenty of people. I cried loud sobs and huge tears changing my tire.

‘Ma’am, do you need any help?’ Asked this young.

‘I need my father,’ I blubbered.

I jumped when he put his hand on mine trying to take the tire iron from me. ‘Are you ok? Do you need me to help with the tire?

‘I think I’m losing my mind. Or maybe I was dreaming.’ I whispered.

‘You’re not from here. Was it a wrong turn or did you deliberately turn down the road to hell?’ He asked jacking my car up.

My shame was all over my face when I confessed that it was a deliberate turn. ‘You’re lucky you got out of there alive. Let me tell you a story, one that you probably haven’t heard or only heard bits and pieces. Long ago when the settlers came from England they brought their God but they also brought their devil. This devil settled in his own kingdom that he built in the middle of the Big Woods. Every 10 years new blood is needed and there is this silent call that goes out and only heard by select few people. These people are past the gate and their souls are taken. The lucky survivors that leave with their soul intact have a far more insidious journey to overcome.’ He explained. My mouth was dry. He stood up, reached into my cooler and handed me a soda. ‘Thanks, what do you mean by insidious?’ I asked. ‘You have another test to pass before you’re rid of the darkness that is on your back. You have to face a demon. Your strength will either fail you or help you succeed.’ he said walking away.

My tire fixed and I sped home driving straight through, no camping out. My dad was sitting on the porch when I pulled up. He knew where I had gone. He held me for the longest time then said, ‘You’re not the only one that has had to overcome a demon. I was afraid that you would have to do this as well. All of our family has had to face this same demon for decades. I told you not to go. I didn’t want you to face this demon. The stories were for the safety of your soul. You don’t want to end up behind that gate being tortured by those people. They were once like you and if you don’t defeat the demon then you will be theirs. Believe it or not, it’s better to be the devil’s puppet behind the gate than to be the puppet’s puppet.

Years later, I faced my demon. I was investigating a house where the kids were being tormented by this dark being. It could control the beetles on the ceiling to move into satanic symbols, contort wildlife into puzzles, and control the depth of darkness. I felt it when I walked in the house, I felt my demon. It was like that summer all over again with the silence and the feeling of being watched and the urgency to leave. After investigating and catching the EVP of the being telling me, ‘Turn around bitch. I’ve been waiting for you.’ the priest came to do an exorcism on the house. It was successful and I could only blame myself that this only happened to the innocent kids because I went to that terrible place.

I told my father what happened and he asked me, ‘Don’t you remember seeing the snakes in the yard twisted into symbols? Or smelling rotten meat in your room?’ I shook my head no. ‘Jo, our family has been battling this demon for years. We are the only people that can keep him at bay. Sometimes we aren’t quick enough and the devil obtains another puppet.’ Now, I tell my children the story of being energy vampires and to be aware of when we are overly tired. It’s because the devil is looking for another puppet and the demon will show itself soon. Be prepared and stay strong. Listen close around the campfire my dear ones and have a Dr. Pepper.


Start a Blog at

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: