A Natural History of Hell: Stories Read Free

pinched fingers at Alice’s mouth. She was giving him a look of disgust. In the shadowy corner of the dining room, Bill Stewart was asleep in a chair, his arms folded across his chest. They made it back to the living room and took a spot a little closer to the fireplace. Grace was still intermittently groaning, her stare still blank. The crowd soon came in from the kitchen. Crory lectured about silence, and the room quieted down. Everybody heard a toilet flush, and, after, the footsteps of the Blameless approaching from the hall.
    His first order of business was to check on Grace ’ s condition. He spoke his gibberish to her for a few seconds, and she panted. “She needs to get heated up,” the reverend said over his shoulder to the crowd. He danced erratic for a dozen steps, stopped only a few feet from Tom and Helen, and spoke. “Moxioton, The Granee Champio of negative entities,” he said. “This spirit of destruction, spirit of grief, is an aggregate of Grace ’ s sins, both real and imagined by herself and others. A powerful demon that once removed will leave her feeling five pounds lighter.”
    “My mind ’ s reeling with scenarios of what ’ s about to happen. None of them good,” said Tom, leaning down over Helen. He looked up and saw Crory glaring at him. Tom gave him a wave and put his finger to his lips. Crory shook his head in disappointment. Helen caught sight of the exchange and said, “What a Nazi.” Meanwhile, the reverend again took to dancing and spitting out gibberish. Grace suddenly shrieked, and the crowd jumped and murmured. She shuddered, and the cot banged against the floor.
    “OK, OK,” said Emanuel Kan, and stood still, breathing heavily from the exertion of his pathetic waltz. “What ’ s about to happen is somewhat dangerous. So please remain calm and still. The creature I ’ m about to expose is frightening, but do not cry out or he could possibly be drawn to you.” He walked over to his black bag, leaned down, and retrieved a gleaming 9mm pistol from it. “I ’ ve found a hatpin doesn ’t quite do it. ”
    “Whoa,” somebody said in the crowd, and a half-dozen people headed for the back door. “Yes, that ’ s it,” said the reverend. “Let those without faith in the Almighty flee his judgment.” Tom looked down at Helen. She looked up at him. Without speaking, they decided to stay. Kan stood and walked in front of Grace, facing the crowd. She was having a pitiful time of it, bouncing against the cot, crying out. “The demon knows I ’ m coming for him. And now I will invite the young woman ’ s father to join me and read off a list of her sins. And the mother will step forward and remove an article of her clothing so that I might proceed.” He waved the parents out of the crowd with the muzzle of the gun and then put the weapon on the chair with his other tools.
    Crory and Ina stepped forward. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and brought out a pink 3X5 index card. She had tears streaming down her face, smearing her makeup, and held onto his right arm with a trembling hand. She wove to and fro, obviously drunk. Her husband adjusted his glasses, cocked his big head forward, and read in a strained voice.
    “Our daughter, Grace, has lost her way, fallen into temptation under the influence of evil. Here are the sins we are conscious of. 1) Pleasuring herself. 2) Partaking of the pernicious weed. 3) Drinking alcohol. 4) Consorting with atheists. 5) She is ten pounds overweight. 6) Painting her face and wearing suggestive clothing.” When he was finished, he assumed a solemn air, folded the paper twice, and returned it to his pocket.
    “With the exception of the last one,” Tom whispered, “that ’ s like a normal day for me.” Helen stuck her index finger into his belly. “ Try twenty pounds overweight, ” she said.
    “I just want my baby back,” cried Ina. She looked wrung out, ready to drop over.
    “Poor thing,” said Helen.
    Crory returned to his