Dark Places of the Soul: Dark Soul Trilogy - Book 1

Dark Places of the Soul

(Dark Soul Trilogy – Book 1)

Paul J Donaldson

Dark Places of the Soul

by Paul J Donaldson

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2005 Paul J Donaldson

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Chapter 1

February 1946

Do ya hear any more of ‘em awful screams? The question reverberated into the silence of the dark February night.

The query went unanswered.

Was horrid, another voice plainly stated with a cloud of breath being released into the cold air.

Abner, a third voice spoke harshly, do ya think it’s dead?

Abner Hollis, six foot three and so thin his sports coat hung from his shoulders as if it hung from a clothes hanger, stooped down to peer into the deep hole in the earth, his jet-black hair in disarray from the recent struggle. It was an awful sound wasn’t it? The question didn’t really need asking. All four of the men standing by the open wound in the earth heard the inhuman cry, the voice of something ungodly, an injured, crying animal, cast to the deep darkness looming at the bottom of the pit.

I don’t hear nothin’ no more, Caleb Hawkins said. He’d been the first voice to speak once silence had re-conquered the moment of screams, as they would come to think of the instant prior to the quiet they now conversed in.

The true nature of the dark soul has been shown to you, Abner said, standing up straight to let his tall frame tower over the other men. He ran a long fingered hand through his hair in an attempt to comb it back into place. Had it been a man it would not have uttered such an unearthly cry.

We should close the earth. The suggestion came from the youngest of the group, Randall Hawkins, Caleb’s younger brother. Randall had recently returned from Europe with a Purple Heart for having taken a bullet in his right leg and being lucky enough not to lose the limb. He learned all about explosives during his tour overseas, thanks to the Federal Government, and this expertise was the main reason Abner suggested to Caleb they bring the war hero along.

Randall knew his task, closing the earthen tomb on something so hideous it couldn’t be described.

A man, but not a man.

A demon, but not a demon.

The earth was opened from below, Abner responded, we must seal the way up from the world of the damned. Abner Hollis picked up what remained of the solid gold crucifix he’d stolen from Saint Augustine’s Roman Catholic Church. It, the thing they’d last heard screaming in the depths of the pit, had broken it in half, laughing at the four men in audience with a voice possessing very little human quality. Abner used the upper half of the cross like a stake, driving the body of the murdered savior into the thing’s heart. He nearly joined the demon in the pit, were it not for Caleb grabbing hold of him and keeping him in the world of the living.

I sure hope we did the right thing. This voice belonged to Lonnie Wilkerson. At thirty-eight he was two years older than Abner, but Lonnie had never been much of a leader, just the follower who continually asked questions of those in authority. Lonnie Wilkerson was also the town’s most infamous drunkard, beaten out of life by a bottle.

You saw what it was capable of doin’. You all bore witness to its unholy crimes. Abner Hollis threw a large stone into the hole before him.

Nothin’ we do is gonna bring Lilly back, Caleb said quietly to the man who had become the groups leader.

It wasn’t human, Abner insisted, it took not only the flesh that was Lilly Carpenter, but also her soul. The Lord has said it must be destroyed and only through its destruction can Lilly find peace. You, of all people must place some value on her eternal peace.

Caleb bowed his head, unable to look Abner Hollis in the eye. Lilly, sweet Lilly, only twenty the day the thing, which now lay dead in the earth, came for her. Her love belonged to Caleb and had for nearly two years. He had hoped to soon ask old man Carpenter for Lilly’s hand in Holy Matrimony.

Abner Hollis had arrived in town three days after Lilly’s body had been placed in the grave. The self-proclaimed minister drew Caleb (who still doubted Lilly’s virtue), Randall (a reluctant hero) and Lonnie (a lost abusive soul) to him, like a messiah calling his apostles. He sought to make the town see the demon, not the man who had raped and murdered Lilly Carpenter, but the evil spirit drawn into their small village to steer its inhabitants from righteousness. The town-folk claimed Lilly had been quite willing to except the advances of the stranger. The same stranger Abner insisted was in league with Satan. The naïve community showed an eagerness to hear the tall tale of an accidental death after a willing moment of passionate lust.

Lonnie pulled a bottle from the side pocket of his pants and took a long swig of the addictive contents.

Put that away, Abner demanded of a man struggling with his weakness.

Don’t cha wanna take the second chance we bin offered? Caleb said as he joined in confronting the man known as the town’s lush. We all bin given a new opportunity t’ change what we are. Yours needs to begin here." Caleb grabbed the bottle from the startled hand of Lonnie Wilkerson and proceeded to pour the liquid contents on the ground.

Don’t you have any doubts about what we did? A defeated alcoholic asked. I know you doubted Lilly.

Caleb’s fist squarely caught the jaw of Lonnie Wilkerson and if Randall hadn’t moved quickly the older of the two Hawkins brothers would have pinned his fallen victim to the frozen earth.

You have no idea ‘bout what I feel when it comes t’ Lilly, Caleb blurted out as he shook off his brother. Don’t cha dare judge me ya worthless drunk.

None of this is important now. The voice of Abner Hollis sharply cut through the disagreement.

Randall kicked the empty bottle of whiskey to one side. He offered an extended arm to help the older man up from the ground as his brother turned away from the altercation. Accepting Randall’s gesture, Lonnie got to his feet, brushing imaginary dirt from his clothing and attempted to restore his pitiful pride.

A sharp breath of the winter’s night slipped through the somber group. Abner rubbed the palms of his hands together trying to generate warmth. He turned away from the yawning mouth of stone, now the tomb of a demon. Now we must close this gateway to hell and make certain it is never opened again.

Chapter 2

July 1984

Three days had passed since a razor last touched his face. A wrinkled sports shirt and a pair of faded jeans looked as if they might have been slept in the previous night. He leaned against the coarse brick on the alley side of the small town pharmacy. The establishment’s name failed to register in his mind. It was ten minutes after seven and the morning offered barely any life on the main street. Those few who passed by the shadow he inhabited failed to glance upon his face.

Colonial Street, like a black river dancing in the heat of a new day, lying between his position and the tiny diner he’d been led to. A blue Ford Fairmont moved up the road, heading south, out of town. Two young girls occupied the auto’s interior; the brunette in the passenger’s seat looked toward the alley, into the mouth of ungodliness, seeing only what she believed to be a vagrant, a homeless soul. He watched the vehicle until three blocks of concrete and brick structures filled the void between him and them. He was inclined to leave, to go back to the life lost somewhere in the past, a time before the repetitious dream began to control his life.

Five feet, eight inches, he registered her approximate height. Shoulder length blond hair with a tight spiraling curl. Her mane framed a tired face, worn out by a life she struggled to survive. She was on time, just as she was in last night’s dream and all the dreams before. The same garments adorned her willowy form; tight jeans with well worn holes on both knees and a light blue blouse unbuttoned one button below what might be considered conservative.

She entered the diner and he chose to wait a few moments before proceeding down the course he knew he must follow. He pushed his tired body from against the brick, stone which would soon be broken, but for now it had allowed him the luxury of leaning against