Possession
by The Studio

Even if no one will believe me, I've got to try to write it down. Maybe this is just my way of coming to grips with it all - I don't know. I just have to do something, and telling the tale is about as good as anything. I hope you'll grant me a little latitude if I ramble. I'm barely able to sort the events out in my own head, much less try to put them down on paper. I'll have to fill in a few blanks, since I can't remember every word that was said, but I assure you that I'll be as accurate and truthful as I can about substance.

It all began one drizzling Spring afternoon when Jill and I were working downstairs. The project was one that we'd been planning for the year we'd lived there: turning the basement into a recreation room. We were working at opposite ends of the room, removing the baseboards so we could get rid of the grey shag carpet that the previous owner had put down. Jill's always been handy with things like that. Hell, she's probably fixed more things around the house than I have...or at least she used to. Back to the point - we were working on the baseboards when she called to me. I went over to see what she wanted, noticing that she'd already removed a board and pulled back part of the carpet and padding. She was standing there, hands on her hips, staring at the bare floor.

"What do your make of that?" she asked me.

She was referring to a carving in the concrete that looked something like Egyptian hieroglyphics. There were wavy lines and a mass of odd symbols encased within an embossed edge about a foot square. We both bent down to take a better look. She ran her fingers over the symbols until her hand stopped at a small circle with a notch at the top. She pushed sideways on it and it wiggled a little. She looked at me and I shrugged my shoulders. She pushed down on it but it didn't move, then she grabbed its edge with her fingernails and tried to turn it. She rotated it slowly until the notch was aligned with an arrow just outside the circle. There was a clicking sound and the front edge of the carving popped up.

Jill turned to look at me and said, "Cool." She pulled a screwdriver from her toolbelt and pried at the edge that had snapped up, lifting it further. As she did, there was a sound like squeaking hinges. I remember smiling and being excited, like we'd found some sort of buried treasure. Jill probably had the same look on her face, bright eyed and exhilarated, as she lifted the lid all the way open. Below, there was a smaller compartment that was filled with what appeared to be ashes. Jill looked at me, smirked in disappointment, then turned back and gently poked at the ashes with her screwdriver.

"Cremated?" she asked. That's another of the things I'd always loved about her, she could cut to the point like a surgeon. She could have asked, "Do you think that this is some weird spot where the old guy who used to own this house put his wife's ashes or something?" but all she said was one word, knowing that I'd understand.

"Not likely," I answered," there's too many ashes. That'd have to be his whole family in there and...what's that?"

I was referring to a sound. Her screwdriver had struck something as she probed - something that sounded like metal.

"Let me," I said. She shuffled to one side and I bent over and sunk my hands into the ashes, searching for whatever it was she'd hit. I remember the ashes being unusually cold. It was only a few seconds before I felt it - something round and hard, about the size of a baseball. I pulled it up and we both gawked. It was a shining silver urn, about ten inches tall, about six inches wide, and the ball in my hand appeared to be a spherical lid. I brushed it with my other hand, revealing etched markings that looked like the ones on the floor.

Jill reached out for it and I handed it to her. She turned it slowly over and around, then grabbed at the ball on top. It wouldn't turn, but when she pulled at it, it popped right off. She looked into the opening, squinting with one eye, and then it happened.

The best way I can describe it - it was a lot like those old flashsticks that I've seen in documentaries, the ones photographers filled with powder and ignited with a spark. There was a fizzling sound and then an exploding flash, accompanied by the sound of rushing air. I fell back on my ass, tried to shake the spots from my eyes then reached out for Jill, asking if she was okay. As my hand brushed against her, I heard a sound that chilled me to the core. Jill laughed. But not like any laugh that I'd ever heard her use - it was rattling and maniacal, like something out of a cheap horror film. I jerked my hand back out of reflex and squinted at her, still trying to clear the spots. The laughing stopped suddenly and she turned to face me. The expression on her face was one that I hadn't seen her use before, and haven't seen her use since. Her eyes were wide open, her brow was raised and her mouth was pulled into the broadest possible smile.

"What's wrong?" I asked, staring at her in confusion.

The expression slowly melted from her face. She looked at me through half-closed eyes and said, "Nothing's wrong Franklin. In fact, it hasn't been better for centuries."

She looked at the urn in her hand, replaced the ball, and flipped it over to me. "Keep it as a souvenir, dearest," she said, "though I doubt that you'll ever forget this day." With that, she got up, walked by me and headed up the stairs. I sat there for a few minutes, urn in my lap, wondering what the hell had just happened.

When I finally got upstairs, Jill was nowhere to be seen. I heard a noise in the kitchen and followed it. There she was, sitting at the table with a fork in each hand, with what appeared to be the entire contents of our refrigerator set out in front of her. She was chewing, her mouth stuffed full of food, as she turned to noticed me. Without breaking stride she pointed with one of her forks at the chair across from her. I walked over, sat down in it and stared. After a few more mouthfuls, she took a drink from the 2-liter bottle beside her, and spoke.

"You must be confused," she said as she took another forkful. Speaking to me with her mouth half full she added, "but don't be worried...this is very good...it's called a casserole, isn't it?"

I stared, not moving a muscle. She sighed, swallowed, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and then looked at me.

"Okay Franklin," she said, "I'll explain, but it's going to have to be the short version because I'm hungry. You'd be surprised the appetite a person can work up after not eating for a few hundred years. I've possessed your wife. I'm a spirit with the ability to do such things. My name's unimportant, especially since I don't remember what it really is. I've been through so many hosts that it gets confusing. You're wife just freed me. That vessel has been my prison for what I'd guess to be over three hundred years."

I was so stunned that I hadn't known I'd brought the urn up with me. It was sitting on the table in my hand. I started to speak but Jill held a hand up to silence me and said, "That's all for now, I'll talk more later. Right now, I'm hungry."

I sat there for a minute, watching her eat, then got up slowly and walked over to the phone saying, "Jill, I'm going to call the hospital. Just stay calm and everything will be alright."

She stopped, threw her forks down on the table and turned to face me. "Of all the nerve," she blurted out. "You mean you'd be rude enough to interrupt my first meal in over three centuries to take me to see some stupid medic? I can't believe it!" She sighed then added, "Step away from that telephone thing, or I'll have to teach you a lesson." I was looking straight into her eyes as I uncradled the receiver. She frowned and stared at me.

"You asked for this," she rumbled. I saw a distortion in front of her eyes that looked exactly like waves of heat rising off of hot pavement. Everything went black. The next thing I knew, I was crouching in our back yard, buck naked, with my thumb up my ass. And that's no figure of speech, I literally had my thumb shoved into my asshole. I've never been so rattled or embarrassed in all my life. I have no idea how long I'd been standing there, but the drizzle had turned to rain and it had gotten dark. I extracted my intruding digit, looked around to see if anyone was watching, and turned to run into the house. As I slammed the door behind me, Jill was waiting there with a towel.

As I took it from her hand, she said, "Frank - that's what you like to be called isn't it - I apologize for such a base display of my powers but I couldn't let you interrupt my meal, now could I? I hope you won't make that mistake again. You'll find your clothes in the kitchen, so go get dressed - and wash your hands - then we'll talk some more. I'll be in the living room."

My head was swimming as I headed into the kitchen. Like a zombie, I did exactly what she told me to do. It seemed to take forever. I wondered if I was having some incredibly lucid dream, but I knew I was awake. Was I hallucinating? I couldn't tell. I thought about the time back in college when I dropped acid - wondering if I was having some kind of crazy flashback. None of it made any sense.

Jill was sitting on the couch, watching television and eating pizza. There were two boxes sitting beside her and an empty one on the floor. She let out an incredibly loud burp and then laughed as she told me to come in and sit down. I lumbered over and took the recliner across from her. With one hand she aimed the remote at the T.V., changing channels; with the other, she grabbed a fresh slice of pizza. After finishing, she reached for another piece and found the box was empty. She flipped it onto the floor, opened the last box, and spoke.

"I think I'm going to like it here, Frank. This television device is incredibly diverting, and the food's already better than anything I remember. But what would you know about that? You're still confused, so I'll clarify a bit more. But first..."

She grabbed two slices from the box, sandwiched them together and stuffed them into her mouth. Four bites later, she was finished.

"There," she said, rubbing her belly, "that'll hold me while I tell you a story. As I said, I don't remember my real name. Neither would you if you'd been jumping from body to body since well before the birth of Christ. I have a vague memory of being on my deathbed eons ago. There was a woman there in some sort of ceremonial garb and, as I felt the last breath of life escaping me, she poured a white powder into my mouth. I faded into darkness...that was the most scared I think I've ever been....dying, dying, dead." She paused for a moment, staring at the ceiling, then began again.

"I died, but then I wasn't dead. It was like rising out of a fog - that's what it's always like - and suddenly I could see and feel again. Somehow, my spirit had been transferred into another body. I don't remember much about my first host, except that I was hungry. I've always been hungry. My unending life has been one, constant, glorious, delicious, uninterrupted feast...at least it was until that damned mystic got me."

Her brow wrinkled as she clenched her fists. Her jaw was tight as she growled, "I swear, if I could resurrect him, I'd do it just so I could have the pleasure of killing him myself." She glared, looking at me like I was the one who'd imprisoned her. She shook it off and continued. "It was in Egypt. I'd possessed his sister about two years before he trapped me. That fiend must have spent the whole time pouring through ancient texts to find a way to do it. I was sitting in my room, eating as usual, when he came in to visit me. He'd come by many times before, begging me to vacate his sister's body - but that time it was different. I was ignoring him and gloating when he sat that damnable vase in front of me and whipped out a scroll. He started chanting something and I felt sick. The room started spinning. I tried to get up and stop him but my body wouldn't allow it. How could it? It'd been months since I'd fattened her up to the point that she couldn't so much as walk. After a few long minutes, I felt myself being pulled out of her body and stuck into that cursed vase. It wasn't fair. I couldn't have left her body even if I'd wanted to - it's not within my power to do that. Either way, I've been trapped in that hellish prison ever since...that is until today."

She smiled and turned her attention back to the pizza. I didn't know what to say; I just sat there and watched her eat. She'd finished before I spoke.

"What are you going to do with my wife?" I asked.

She chortled, then answered, "Why Frank, I only do one thing, and that's EAT. It's who I am - all that I know - my one desire. I'm not here to hurt anybody. Your wife's body is just going to be the latest vessel for my appetite."

I took a deep breath and sighed, trying to clear my head. "What's happened to Jill?" I asked.

"Oh, she's here. She's just, as you might say, in the back seat while I'm driving. You could call it somewhat symbiotic. I know everything she does and she's perceiving everything that's happening. Don't worry about her, she's fine. As I said, I mean no harm. Next question?"

I paused. "When will you leave?"

"Why Frank, you're making me feel unwelcome already," she said sarcastically. "I'll leave when I'm good and ready, and not a moment before."

"But....but," I muttered, "you said that you can't leave by choice - that you don't have the power."

"Very good," she said, "you were paying attention this time. Don't believe everything I say. In addition to being a glutton, I'm also a chronic liar. Hell, none of what I've told you may be true. All you need to know is that you're powerless to stop me. You don't need more convincing, do you?"

All I could say was, "No."

"Wonderful, then I'd like you to take me to a place where they sell these hamburger sandwiches that Jill is so fond of."

"What?"

"You heard me. Go get the car."

She started giving me that look she'd used on me in the kitchen. I clamped my eyes shut and yelled, "Okay! Give me a minute, will you? Jeezus Christ, you're acting like I should be used to this already!"

"There's no time like the present," she said. "The sooner you get used to it, the better. Now, dearest Franklin, be a good boy and go get the car."

I got up slowly and headed toward the front door. I had my hand on the knob when she spoke.

"And Frank," she said in a low tone, "please don't get any stupid ideas about running and getting help. I know you as well as Jill does. Don't forget that I've only shown you a small sample of my powers. You wouldn't like it if I had to show you more."

I turned to her an replied, "Not here to hurt anybody - you mean no harm, eh?"

She leaned back and clasped her hands behind her head. "Like I said, I'm a chronic liar."