The Voodoo Exorcism
I’m not quite sure how it all began. We’d been playing around with these beauty potions for a while, or at least Amanda had. I was curious as to what went into them, but I never questioned her nor her skills. Somehow not only were they meant to smell good, but also to bring love, to bring fortune and to protect. Maybe something went wrong while she was in the lab one day? Perhaps she allowed herself to be distracted by the children or the phone or her melancholia. Then again, it could simply have been that we’d opened the door to the other world and forgotten to close it.
There was a lot going on in this one, running from here to there. At one point I noticed a rash dotted in a rather peculiar mapping on my left shoulder. But stranger things have happened so I let it pass. However, just to be on the safe side, to protect ourselves from the unwanted elements, we agreed to douse ourselves with a few more drops of this or that. I don’t think it worked. In fact, I think it jostled awake some of whatever was out there.
Walking down a gravel lane in the forest, we came upon a small pool or pond, not tiny, but maybe 20 feet long and 12 feet wide. It was dark, a mineral rust orange tint to a black hole. It called to me. And in fact, when I didn’t heed its call quickly enough, it pulled me, drew me closer. My heels scraped against the gravel path, digging in, attempting to slow it down. I could not. Amanda, I think it was Amanda beside me, I couldn’t see her face, pull me back. The witches, demons, beasts let loose their hold, and I was free. Or at least I thought I was.
The next day, we were at a woman’s house. Persian rugs draped the wood floors and ancient gods, totems, masks and other random ornaments adorned the shelves along the walls. They were there supposedly to ward off the evil spirits. I spilled something on the carpet. I felt terrible about it, but it must have been planned. Some of whatever I spilled splashed onto my left shoulder. Lynda Frese laughed it off, but offered me something, once again, as protection. I took it, well, because you never know.
The following day, I noticed something unusual about my shoulder. Not only had the rash grown, but it was now a full-fledged scene. Seven creatures, demons, had gnarled themselves up into two-inch black knobs on my shoulder, cast in a circle, surrounding a replica of that dark pool, pond we’d been to in the forest. It was hideous and frightening. Aimée, yes It was Aimée now, called someone she knew to help expunge whatever was setting up shop on my body and to find out why it was there in the first place. Why me? A few drops of something would help bring it down. It did, in a way, but it also made whatever was determined to inhabit me that much more furious. Calming down from my shoulder back into a simple rash, it seeped its way into my chest, my heart, vowing to dominate vein, valve and soul. I couldn’t breathe. This was it. I was going. I could feel it. The voodoo sage was once again called, and through the phone managed to cast it out. I don’t know how, and I wasn’t sure if it would be back again. And I never found out why it picked me in the first place. But I knew, at that moment, I was free, purged, purified, exorcised.
Anne-Julia Price 