The Dancer - serialized novel Written for Steemit Part 16

Possessions continued...Welcome Steemit Friends I invite you into my world for some horror and the power to overcome horror. It is a world of the spirit and the hidden abilities some people have that they find out and secretly use to the benefit of all of us. Written for Steemit.

Photo by Robert Collins on Unsplash Royalty Free

Previous Chapters:

Table of Contents - Page 1
Table of Contents - Page 2

The Dancer - Possessions 16

Bjorn used the utmost effort that is humanly possible because he knew that something was inside him. Something strange from somewhere and some time that he did not know existed. If he had not meditated as much as was required to achieve his black belt he doubted he could have snatched the pouch. He doubted he could have tied it around his neck.

Bjorn instantly experienced something, the lower half of the spirit body of Nochehuatl including her right breast, shoulder, and arm – the mindless part, left Bjorn. It crawled out of him while Bjorn thrashed on the floor. Bjorn did not know he never would have been able to rid himself of this part of the sorceress except it wanted to find the rest of itself.

The powerful witch suffered a great shock. It took time to recover. The arm pulled and the legs thrashed itself forward. Then the hand on the arm reached out to feel. Martha, the rest of me, where am I?

When Nochehuatl tried to step into Martha Halloween night, Itzli recognized an opportunity. Life was a learning experience and the Spanish who drove them out of Mexico, killed the older ones as they found them.

Nochehuatl had sent him to attack Bjorn for practice and to learn. He saw the opportunity for her to learn something too, or to get rid of her forever.

Bjorn’s body shook in convulsions. Like when the mindless portion went into him, now that it came out…

Everyone could see the torso emerge from Bjorn. Everyone could see what happened to him. And at the same time, it took all their effort to hold Martha. She saw what happened as well. She screamed as the one armed torso made its way across the rug.

Sparks or some sort of energy tried to zap Ma, Mommy, Rog, and me, Roland.

Martha’s body tried to fight us and push us toward the crawling thing. Whatever was inside her, it wanted to unite with what was on the floor. Whatever was inside her made Martha so strong and wriggly, it was all we could do to hold her as it inched closer. We did not know or understand at the time. The last little bit of Martha's soul, her inner self, her identity tried to dance while the thing inside her used her body to fight to get to the rest of its body.

“Drag her back into the kitchen!” Ma screamed. We tried. She fought. She kicked. She struck out and she continued to bellow an unending Gestalt scream.

I got around behind, Martha wrapped my hands around her waist, and pulled back with all my might. The other adults fell forward on top.

“Pete Salt! Throw around salt!” Ma ordered as loud as she could as she and Sara Lynn tried to each grab hold of one of Martha flailing arms.

Peter jumped over the spirit torso with legs. Ran over to the table and grabbed the salt. He started to shake salt out of it.

“Pete, on Martha,” Mommy yelled!

Rog was between Martha’s kicking legs, trying to push the pouch toward her neck. He couldn’t do it. There was an invisible force that kept him away.

“Sara, rip open my shirt!” I ordered my daughter. I had Martha in a bear grip. If only the pouch under my shirt could touch my gran’daughter. If only someone’s pouch could touch her I prayed. The falling salt was deflected by the same force.

Rog held the pouch in his hand away from Martha and with his other arm, reached under her waist, around, and grabbed hold. He pulled himself tight against her. The pouches around people’s necks pulled away from Martha, flapped in the air by some force.

Sara Lynn tried to rip open my shirt. It was useless.

“I am out of salt,” Pete yelled, “And it is coming to Martha.”

Rog screamed, “Jesus.” He saw Bjorn had done it. He pulled his hand with the greatest effort. First he forced his hand to his side.

Pete ran to the cupboard and got out the salt bin container. He ripped the lid off.

The body of the sorceress was nearly to Rog’s feet. Pete threw the salt, like it was water in a bucket from the cylindrical tin over his straining relatives and toward the crawling body as well. It must have been ten pounds of salt.

The glow of power dimmed in the shower of salt. It ceased. Rog touched the pouch to Martha. His daughter more violently thrashed, convulsed into silent unconsciousness. "A strange, deep utterly powerful voice emerged from her throat, from her unmoving lips, open mouth and spoke in an unknown language,

"Itzli, my apprentice, my student, my lover, my consort, my mate, why are you not here to help me." And the magical voice carried all the way through the spirit world to Itzli as he walked through the darkness of the forest. Fear gripped, "I come." Terrified he whispered back.

Copyright:
Written for Steemit: Copyright © 2017 Jeff Kubitz - The Dancer - et al. All Rights Reserved. Steemit.com/steemit/@jeff-kubitz