Cat Dubois' Odyssey to Enchantment Read online

  The spirit messengers and the tree fairies scrambled to help her, too. They were so small in comparison to her weight. Accustomed to tending wild deer and squirrels and such, a human was beyond their strength, but they would try with all their might. They issued an urgent signal for more help; then, they cried out, “Leave Death! Leave Suicide, NOW! You have no rights here. She belongs to the Father. The Son has commissioned us. He has given the authority to us, and you must leave.” The tiny messengers did their best until the big guns could arrive, but the devils laughed in their little faces.

  “Might? Strength, power over humans? Ha!” The Devil blew on the bunch of tree fairies, and they flew like milk thistle.

  But, the fairies returned to hold Cat back until help arrived. “Help! Help! The human needs help!”

  Eleanor heard the plea—a cry for Catherine. “Where?”, she asked.

  A fairy came through the back door crack. “Help her! The human is in trouble! Hurry, you must fly!”

  “I must go now. She is in trouble,” Eleanor blurted out, and vanished as her last word left her tongue. She knew that Catherine was suicidal. The devils were working overtime; they wanted her soul for eternity.

  “Eleanor, where?”, Lovey pleaded as he cocked his head, but Eleanor had already gone.

  “Oh, dear, I must do something. Pray, little fella. I must join Eleanor. You hold down the fort,” and without another word or moment to waste, Tadhg was also gone, disappearing into the air.

  Left alone in the manor with Thomas, Lovey sought a higher answer from the highest source. He prayed little dog prayers. They were the most pure-of-heart type of prayers. No manipulations, bargaining or selfish motivations drive dogs. After all, dog is God spelled backwards.

  They—Lovey and Thomas—called to the Spirit, who delivered, in the wind, the plea for help: “Where is she?”

  Tadhg soared, flying above the trees, to find Eleanor.

  “She couldn’t have gotten too far,” Eleanor said as Tadhg caught up to her. “The messenger had said, ‘…on a ledge.’”

  “Let’s head northeast,” he said, already turning a bit more to the north. They could ask and wait for a reply, but time was running short. Their mission could be jeopardized if an answer did not come fast enough.

  They headed up the road, not too far from the manor. It was almost a mile when Tadhg spotted her. “There. There she is!” He pointed to her standing on the rim of the ledge.

  As they approached, sounding like a swooshing of the wind, they noticed her eyes were closed; her cheeks were red from the cold wind and tears. She was shaking, and a single movement could cause her to lose her footing and fall to the icy rock-pit, two -thousand feet below.

  “We must land carefully. Don’t frighten her,” Tadhg said. “I’ll take her arm and bring her backwards.”

  “Is that a good idea? I would rather talk her back,” Eleanor cautioned, most concerned with the right plan.

  “No! You must trust me, Eleanor. I will act as the wind and blow her backwards. You catch her arm, then. Do not manifest. Keep invisible. We must talk her down with the voice of The Spirit,” Tadhg said as he was already positioning himself in front of Catherine, whose eyes were still closed.

  She rocked back and forth; her teeth were chattering. Tadhg took in a deep breath and blew on her like a mighty wind, “PHooooooo!” Cat fell backwards to the ground, and didn’t realize what had hit her.

  Eleanor told Tadhg, “Bravo! Good wind trick,” but Cat could not hear them.

  “When they get home, she must open the box right away,” Lovey was saying to himself back at the manor, thinking about its critical importance. She must just open the box.

  Still on the ground, Cat sobbed, “Why did I live? Why did Thomas die? Why God? Please, stop these memories!”, and she passed out. In her unconsciousness, she called to another dimension. She was unaware that prayers from the heart and spirit of God enter the dark matter of space. It is the dimension where prayers traveled and received are hidden from human eyesight. Her God spirit spoke into those dark spaces of time—into the parallel universe where dark matter had been believed to be insignificant; in fact, it is there, in that infinite place once ignored, that the opposite occurs— matters of tremendous significance.

  There—have existed tunnels for molecular vibrations. It is there—that prayers have travelled without any conditions of earthly time. The dark spaces have been found in blood cells, and rocks, in steel, in all carbon-created atoms found on earth. These byway/highway systems have allowed telepathic communications and sixth senses, in an undetected mode of movement, before human life came into existence.

  Catherine’s voice united with her prayer in that space. Her voice came from within her heart. But “The Tormentors” were also there in that space. They were there often—listening; and, they saw, then, that their competitors, Eleanor and Tadhg, had arrived.

  Quickly, they moved closer to mock Catherine in the black’s abyss. “You could have; you should have; surely you know you would have…” they sang, as if they were children on a playground, bullying a child. Time after time, they screamed the lyrics at Catherine until her self-worth was so small, then minuscule, then just insignificant. They laughed as they verbally berated her to a pulp, “You could have; you should have; you surely know you would have…na na na na nah…”

  “The Accuser of the Brethren” delivered a monologue punch, “You’re stupid. You will never amount to anything. God will not love you. You killed Thomas, you stupid bitch!”

  “Mocking Spirit” started laughing. He thought “The Accuser” was humorous—hilarious, in fact; and he watched her suffer from the delivery.

  Catherine felt ashamed, just as they so hoped. Humiliated, she accepted the mocking idiots’ jabbing, riotous, laughing remarks without protest.

  “Yes…yes…she’s a witch. She’s really one of us. And, the church people know it. That’s why they call her a witch. They stay far away,” “The Accuser” whispered loudly and snidely to “Mocking Spirit” in a way that would bring back the traumatic recollection of the town’s prissy gossip queens whispering behind her back, just loud enough for her to hear.

  The demons called each other out by name, having more fun decimating her mental health. “Hahaha, ha!” “Mocking Spirit” sounded just like the hyena that it was. “Witch, witch, witch, witch! Hahaha, ha!”

  “Stop this now,” Eleanor boldly declared, without yelling or screaming. “You are all liars. Go back to hell where you belong.” Eleanor and Tadhg had remained invisible. Cat wasn't able to hear her.

  “Shut up, you old, ugly goon! Yeah! She’s frightful. A pig! You’re a pig,” they yelled, giggling and sounding like a chorus of monotonous hamsters running around on their wheels, simultaneously.

  “Good Lord. Why any human would listen to you, I don’t know. Good grief! If they could see the likes of you, they would not believe how trifling you truly are.” Eleanor rolled her eyes. “I have no time or tolerance for you. Be gone. ‘Pff’, you’re silent.”

  Tadhg cheered her cool manner of delivery. “Bravo, boss,” then chimed in, “Okay, you goons, take a hike. Your party is over for now. Au revoir!”

  “Catherine,” Eleanor leaned over and whispered in Catherine’s ear.

  Cat was on the ground, lying on her side, just staring at the frozen ground.

  “Do not listen. Do not believe a single utterance. They are here to cause you confusion and doubt of your true self. They are afraid they will lose you. This is their mission. It’s their job and they do it very well. Your job is not to listen to the accusations. You have truth in your heart. You have the love of God. It is there. I have seen it. I know you are chosen to live above and not below. The Son sent me. You must believe,” Eleanor tenderly, confidently conveyed to the broken heart of Catherine Elizabeth Dubois.

  Cat stopped shaking and crying. She thought she may have heard something. “Eleanor, is that you?”, she asked, tentatively.

  “Yes, yes,
dear. It’s me. It’s good you are hearing my voice. I want you to get up and go home now. Come along. It’s cold out here. You’ll catch a cold from your wet cheeks. Come on now, sweet dear.” Eleanor cajoled, lovingly. “Come on, up you go. I’ll put hot tea on for when you get back. Tadhg will be with you if they bother you.”

  Cat rose from the hard cold ground. She backed far away from the ledge. Looking at it, she thought to herself, “I can’t believe that I considered jumping. What was wrong with me?” She quickly descended the hill, walking on the slope of the curving road.

  Eleanor nodded, and Tadhg waved his hand, to thank the tree and forest fairies for their good help. They waved back, and returned to their tree burrows.

  “Did she hear you, Eleanor?”, Lovey asked. “Is she coming home?”

  “Leaving Catherine in that condition was a worrying decision, but we have to trust her. She should be home in a few minutes; so let’s put the pot on for tea, shall we?” Eleanor felt for a brief moment that she had done more harm than good to Catherine’s case. This was neither her true purpose nor her original plan. Catherine was vulnerable to the wiles of the evil “Tormentors”; and it was up to Eleanor and Lovey to close the gap. There was no other way. They must help her, they must get through, somehow.

  A question arose in Eleanor’s mind, concerning ethics and Catherine’s safety. “Do we break physical laws and cause Catherine to want to come because her sanity and life are on the line, or do we allow her to make the decision between life and death?” The devils ignore ethics and someone’s free will. They impose their own agendas in humans, but goodness does not. However, in a case of immediate danger, and the possibility of suicide, there are rare cases where supernatural guardians crossed the line in order to prolong a life for the sake of giving and allowing more time for the human to choose life. If the extra time could alter a human’s choice to choose life, and it was a momentary gift given only for the soul purpose of altering the decision against suicide, then the supernatural guide may lend added time if they met the criteria for the above. Eleanor spelled it out for Lovey.

  “But what does it mean, Eleanor?”, Lovey asked. He was so hopeful that Catherine’s thoughts could be altered; and he looked at Eleanor with his puppy dog tail wagging so excitedly.

  “It means, Lovey, that we must act fast.” Normally these decisions are brought before a board which decides. That could take too long. I must make the lone decision without a committee of guardians; and I may face repercussions from my superiors,” Eleanor explained to him.

  Wagging his tail and panting with eagerness, Lovey says, “Will you do it? Will you break the rules? Huh, huh. huh?”

  She could not abort the plan even if she was on her own without the help of the Great Spirit. Time was short for all, but Eleanor knew what to do. She had done this many times before. She wasn't a novice, but each war for a soul was different.

  “His Glove,” Eleanor began, using Lovey’s formal name, “we must stand together, united in faith, goodness and God’s power of deliverance. We must not doubt. We must do what must happen for a moment of time, on behalf of Madame Catherine Dubois’ sanity and her life. This is one of those rare exceptions. Prepare the area, if necessary; we will do what must be done for her safety. I will take full responsibility for this decision. You will not be included if I get called before the court.”

  The water in the teapot whistled, and Eleanor poured the hot water into the teapot. “Jasmine, would be sumptuous, Lovey,” she said selecting some.

  Tadhg had fallen back, to walk with Cat on the road. Though she was unable to see him, she sensed a protective presence, and felt its comfort. She walked home in peace, and entered the manor through the mudroom, where she removed her cold and frozen boots. The eyes of the entities with evil intents watched her come through the door. They knew they were under the direct observation of Eleanor; more, they knew she was a definite threat. But, they did not care about the male spirit and the dog. Those two, they felt, were unthreatening, and ignored them.

  Cat stretched out on the couch, completely exhausted. The fireplace started to blaze as Tadhg rekindled it in front of her, although she still couldn’t see his form. Eleanor came in with a serving tray holding hot tea, cakes, cream and sugar. Cat turned away from her. The air was still.

  Eleanor signaled Lovey to go next to Catherine, which he did, gladly. Eleanor left the room, leaving Cat alone to sort things out. She didn’t want her to feel that she was crowded in her own home. When Cat knew she was alone, she rolled over to help herself to the tea and cakes. She sat up and began to eat the cakes.

  There was another force in the room. A dark shadow passed behind her. She thought she saw something like a shadow. It stood hovering over her frame while she sat munching a cake. It extended its upper extremities—somewhat like arms and hands—and started to settle upon Cat’s head. It lowered and pressed the darkness on her crown. Cat felt the increasing pressure on her head. She put the cake down and put her hands on her temples, hoping it would relieve the migraine sensation. Just then, she became nauseated and threw up on the floor. The entity used the atmosphere to create more power and force on her. It was as if a vise was squeezing her head. Cat squinted her eyes in pain. Her head felt like a watermelon being crushed. The force raised her off the couch.

  “Take your grip off her now,” Eleanor ordered, standing in the opening of the wooden French doors.

  The entity tightened the vise more, uncaring. Eleanor drew her wand from her pocket, and held it up to the dark shadow. Then she calmly, but firmly, spoke with tremendous power, “Per Dominum Jesum Christum Dei virtutem, et ipsa nunc! Vestrum tollite nunc rapiant abscidisse.”

  Cat fell to the her knees. Her eyes were huge from the crushing pressure, and from the power Eleanor had issued in her command.

  “Tadhg, do not leave her!”, Eleanor sent to him through their mental channels. “The battle is beginning. You must prepare.”

  Eleanor also gave commands to Catherine, Thomas and Lovey. The drums of war had begun. “Boom, boom, boom, boom”—like a tribal beat, the vibrations were strong with the manifestations of intentions. Eleanor’s rules to them were to stand the ground firmly, and make ready for war.

  The entire manor was soon filled with energy. The negative energy was popping, screaming and doors were slamming. The dark energy was ready to fight. Screaming and wailing was heard coming from upstairs, and they were voices of tortured ghosts who were crazed in the madness of being entrapped by these same demons.

  “The third box will bring help for the war. Catherine, you will need to open it, and learn how to use it. Get the box, Lovey,” Eleanor pointed.

  “Cat, my dear, you must open it,” Eleanor instructed.

  “No—no, no, no, no, no!”, Cat protested. She refused to believe Eleanor it would help, for the last box had brought the terribly painful, repressed memories, and, with them, the events bringing the demons and devils to the forefront.

  “How could a third box help?”, she muttered. “Box One brought a black puppy, who is adorable, but, really…? What does a dog really have to do with Thomas being swept away to sea?” Then, a sudden memory flashed in Catherine’s mind (sent courtesy of Eleanor), “‘The black rag-stuffed animal,’” as Eleanor reminded her, “‘is Lovey,’” who, at that moment, looked up at Cat with love radiating from his eyes. “‘That rag-dog is now alive and sitting next to you. It was also swept out to sea with Thomas.’” Eleanor continued to speak to her mind, “That pup is ‘His Glove’. Little Elizabeth called, and you, now, call him ‘Lovey’, but his name is ‘His Glove’. Now, arise, it is time to face your demons.”

  “Now?”, Catherine caught Eleanor’s expressions. “But, what,” she thought, “would Box Three bring? Joy? Happiness? I am horrible and wretched!” She put her hands over her ears. Eleanor was not the only one sending messages to her mind.

  “The Accuser of the Brethren” was by right by her side, whispering all her shortcomings— all the messages
the devils had found most effective, through their hard work, to destroy her self-worth. Essentially, “The Accuser” had turned on their tapes, and put them on replay, over and over again. “You wretched human; you don’t deserve this attention or time. These angels are busy with bigger and better humans than you. You are a nothing.” Then, “The Accuser” turned the tempo up.

  Over the years, the devils had kicked back, with the self-loathing repetitions they had orchestrated now playing as self-talk that Catherine played on her own. The mantras sucked all her positivity dry. The devils no longer had to work very hard—Cat’s mind easily bought into their lies—her psyche had become so easy to program.

  Over and over, the habits of the mind they had instilled, brought rumination and insomnia, bad dreams and bad thoughts, poor self-esteem, overeating, anorexia, drinking too much alcohol, concocting mind games on her enemies down below, hating them, hating herself, and the list went on and on. No, the devils didn’t have to work any longer; they lingered only to bask in her own self-destruction.

  Well, like all controllers do, they blamed her for her own misery. The other devils soon joined “The Accuser”; they stood around her and gossiped about her openly. They made their voices audible to her so she could hear them talking, just like the gossip queens had done, “If she hadn’t been so weak and vulnerable… If she had only thought good things about herself… She wouldn’t have killed Thomas, if she hadn’t have been so selfish and lost that stupid rag-dog… If she had just simply been an easier-going person… If she hadn’t have been born…” On and on and on, they berated her mind. They had an easy life there at the manor; and they weren’t going anywhere without a fight, a battle, a war, if need be. Cat’s mind was their longtime home; and they would make sure that eviction would not be easy.

  The self-help books that Cat read so often made the devils jobs easier, too. The guilt and anger they created, when Cat couldn’t achieve nirvana through her simple pleasures, was thrilling to them. She couldn’t live up to or accomplish the many suggestions and advice offered from books or talk shows on television. There were far too many suggestions on how to stop the negative tapes from going ‘round and ‘round. It seemed to her, there was one suggestion at a time for each emotional pain; they become many and too numerous causing her confusion. That was one of their oldest tricks in the book of demons and devils. Once the overwhelming task of solving her problems for herself was rendered hopeless, the job of the devil, “Self Loathing”, would be complete. But, it is a forceful cycle that is hard to get a human to relinquish.