Night was falling fast in the mountains. Dad had planned it that way. He’d said it would be thrilling when the car swept over the top of that last hill and we’d see the sun setting on the beach down below. It was a perfect getaway to celebrate my eighteenth birthday.

“This place has a real energy to it,” he’d said, “You’ll see.”

It was all ice cream and switching radio stations; it was all hair flying out of the sunroof; it was laughter and silly jokes until something brushed over my face.

I wiped my cheek, as I would having stumbled into an unseen web from an invisible spider. Funny how they crept around like ghosts: the colour of day, landing like special ops, spinning their traps undetected.

But this wasn’t a spider or a web.

A swoosh came this time, like a wind made of soft filaments that flipped my hair up and back. It brushed a harsh invisibility over my nose and mouth, blanketing and blocking off air. It seemed to hush me with a soothing sound – urging me to be quiet, to be still, but I struggled none-the-less.

My eyes peeled open, stabbed with fear at the prospect of not being able to breathe… until I realized that this strange energy was breathing for me. It had gotten inside.

Dad looked into his rear view mirror. “You’ve gone quiet back there, missy,” he said.     

Mom, pat his leg, “Leave her alone. All girls disappear into their own heads…”

The filaments were attracted to her lyrical voice and they grew, reaching their hungry fingers over and into her mouth, probing around gums and a wolf tooth that I admired. I could feel the slender threads; feel what they were doing, like they were a part of me, a part that I hated.

Shocked by this unsuspected dentistry, mom pulled the mirror down from above. She could see nothing but her own startled expression and the involuntary movement of flesh that rippled over her teeth, as the energy explored underneath.

She tried to speak, but this strange, unseen power quickly formed needle points that pierced through each lip – jabbing in through the top, pulling down to the bottom and sewing all the way through. Her mouth was sealed within seconds.

She tried to scream but all that came out was a high-pitched squeal.

Dad looked over. Mom’s face alarmed him. He could see the outward bulge and blue crush of her stitched lips, and her stretched eyes, bitten with shock.

“Chris?” He said.

She flagged him with her hand, urging him to pull over.

The energy expanded, leaning over and rolling onto him. It pressed his hands back from the wheel forcing them up into a surrender position.

“What the Hell?” Dad yelped.

The wheel was turning by itself. He’d lost control. We all had.

The force pushed down on dad’s foot, accelerating the car up the last hill at an impossible speed. All three of us stared straight ahead, pressed back in our seats like astronauts launching into space.

As we hit the top of the hill we flew high into the air like Evel Knievel on his last drag race against comets across the sky.

Here it was: the crusted ocean and sun setting over a stunning beach. And there truly was an energy to this place, as dad had said, but it was bigger and more powerful than we could ever have imagined, and it wasn’t good.

The car took a sudden turn in the air and veered off to the left. It flew across the road below and over to the open edged cliff.

Dad tried to grab the wheel, but the energy wouldn’t let him. This whole landscape was its space. It had fully moved in. No one was welcome here anymore… No one, that was, except me.

As the car zipped over the rock face, the graveyard of obliterated vehicles below came into view. Gravity took hold and the car hit a quick descent.

We barely had time to consider our impending fate – but I wouldn’t have to, as the force threw all of its might around my little body and yanked me out through the sunroof, away from my parents, up into the unlit, dusky space above: suspended in the sky.

The car crashed so far away that it looked like a cartoon puff – of destruction, of death.

The force carried me back over the cliff and placed me on top of the hill. It let me down gently as if I had floated in on a grieving black cloud.

Deep pain took me to my knees. I crumbled and cried like any girl would. I was inconsolable – unable to believe that my parents were gone.

Deep in the middle of night, alone and moonless on top of the hill, I started to shake. I was unsure of what this thing wanted from me. I wondered if it would unclasp its grip on my own life, or if I would be enslaved to do its bidding, whatever that might be





©BAT Anderson

Even people who have very little interest in horror have seen the movie The Exorcist by Peter Blatty, adapted from his book by the same title. Many attempts to depict exorcisms have been made since then, though none have had the same impact as this one. Winning two of its ten Academy Award nominations, the depraved demonic possession of a young Linda Blair shocked audiences and opened new doors into the world of supernatural horror. Possibly the most striking thing about the film, in my opinion, was the realism. I think that was what scared me the most. I could feel it happening and sensed that a possession was in fact a possibility.

It’s one thing to see a film or read a novel about such things, but what is it like to perform exorcisms in real life? For some answers I interviewed real-life Demonologist Bat Anderson:

Kym: The word sounds so dark, but in reality what you do is so good. Could you explain for our readers what exactly is a Demonologist?

Bat: “A Demonologist is a person who has strong faith in God, then studies everything Demonic: names and ranks… you learn who is the most powerful and who has legions of demons underneath him. Demons act and have tricks associated with them. I have studied under a well-known exorcist and friend. He did not charge me for the two years of training, but I did have to buy a small mountain of books. I had to study… and then I was quizzed. It was like a college course for sure. I won’t go into my studies in depth; I don’t want readers thinking all they have to do is read a few books and think they know what they are doing. It takes a ton of scripture and a ton of faith along with a lot of books, not to mention a ton of first-hand field-work.”

Kym: I’m wondering if there is a specific way that you would define a demon? I hear so many different definitions, like it’s a negative spirit from a deceased human, or a fallen angel etc. What is your definition?

Bat: “No a demon is an entity that never walked as a human! It is a fallen angel that was never in human form! Although they can come to you as a human spirit… They hate mankind and they are out to destroy anything human! I have heard people referring to demons as stupid! Well truth be told, demons have been on earth since the beginning of time. They are not stupid and they have many, many tricks up their sleeve. Anything they can use to take you off your game they will search for it and use it. They use a li’l trick on ghost hunters; they act like the spirit of a child, and will attach themselves to anyone and end up at their homes. If ghost hunters do not protect themselves they will end up with company they can’t handle, or worse! The only definition that I have of a real demon is pure evil! Demons are master deceivers not from this earth.”

Kym: I’m wondering if there was any kind of event in your life that led you to want to do this kind of work? If not, why do you think you are drawn to it?

Bat: “I did not choose this field, I was called to it by a priest! And though it wasn’t my calling (the Priest should have been in the mafia), he would not take no for an answer! I had dealt with demonic activity growing up. I really didn’t want to get into this field! But the more this priest pulled teeth, the more I agreed.”

Kym: So you don’t have to be a Priest…

Bat: “No. You do not have to be a Priest to be a Demonologist. The Priest chose me. If you are a Catholic Priest you could get trained in Demonology… I am not Catholic. That is why I was sworn to secrecy by him – the Priest, and friend; his name is not spoken by me, because it goes against the Catholic religion for [a] non-Catholic to be trained as a Demonologist.

A word of caution, you must be very knowledgeable in the Bible and with scripture and [have] a profound faith in God and understanding in your enemy. You cannot wake up one day and say “Oh, I will go out and fight demons!” Not so. A demon can fight you psychologically as well as physically. If you are not well prepared and ready for a real fight… stay home. If God is not in your heart and not number one please do not bother; you will lose, or worse!”

Kym: So, you’ve performed exorcisms…

Bat: “Yes I have done four and I assisted in at least ten before I was told I was ready. It is not something for the faint of heart.”

Kym: I have to ask, are exorcisms anything like we see in the movies?

Bat: “Yes and No. No because Exorcisms do not have special effects and yes because I have seen and felt things that most would run from. The movies we all know [are] not real but when you are working with a real Exorcism and looking into eyes of pure evil, and there is no Director waiting to say cut… I have been bit, scratched, punched and my hair pulled… and then when the Exorcism starts it can be worse. If your faith is not strong and you are not careful, you and everyone stand to be injured. It is for real, no actors, and no special effects.”

Kym: You seem to be a very positive person. Are you negatively affected by coming into contact with Demons?

Bat: “Yes, I am 95% positive and 5% negativity comes from being in contact with Demonic Entities. They affect you psychologically and physically. One thing I have learned is to hide my fear; they look for any portal to attack. Fear is one and your body is another portal. Demons are highly intelligent and resourceful, and most of all they are pure evil. They will use anything to throw you off your game. It is Christ who does the fighting. I am a mere weak vessel. God is the victor and I am the instrument.”

Kym: How does a Demonologist protect himself from a Demon?

Bat: “I can only answer for what I do. Prayer and asking for forgiveness is first. Sometimes I use Holy Oil to anoint myself along with prayer for protection and I also ask for the Angel Michael to be by my side. Yes, there are many and there will be other Demons around. I have seen them as I have done Exorcisms, but my faith is very strong. I also know that Jesus and the Angels are with me, Amen.”

Kym: How do you know you are dealing with a Demon?

Bat: “I do some psychological profiles. Some think they are possessed and are not, but my screenings keep me informed. I am also empathic, which helps me immensely. Also once you have felt true evil it can hide, but being empathic does make it a little easier for me to find it. Seldom these days do I find myself playing hide and go seek. In the beginning it was not always easy but today I am better at knowing the tell-tale signs. And yes there are some mental issues that can mask Demons, as well as just plain mental issues without Demonic influences.”

Kym: What is the worst thing you have encountered during an exorcism and how did you deal with it?

Bat “Okay, I was doing an exorcism on a young lady. Her husband called me in tears; he said his wife was possessed! He said he called a Priest and the Priest walked in, saw his wife and left without saying a word! I was puzzled by this, so I told the man I’d be there in an hour and a half. He was local. I did my protection prayers and used my holy oil, then set out to see what was up!

The husband was standing outside when I arrived! I shook his hand and introduced myself. He was visibly shaken. I asked where his wife was. He just pointed to the front door of the tiny house. I asked him to bow his head, as I said a brief protection prayer.

I walked toward the door and turned. He had not moved, I said, ‘Are you coming?’ He said no you go, please! I thought that very odd. I stopped just short of the door and said another protection prayer. I opened the door and walked in.

It was like walking into a freezer, and the stench was breathtaking! I looked around and didn’t see anyone! Then I caught a brief glance of a foot high in the air. I looked up and a young, thin naked woman was levitating five foot in the air! As I looked up I seen her eyes were rolled back in her head. Her white eyes met mine. A smile came upon her face. She began floating down to me slowly. In a minute she was face to face with me. It was then I realized why the Priest left! She was face to face with me, feet never touching the floor. I looked into the white eyes and said, ‘You know why I’m here. Now let’s get to work!’

I placed my hand on her frozen forehead and said…. ‘Demon what is your name?’ It screamed at me with a lion’s roar. Then her feet hit the ground! At that point the fight was on! But… my first instinct was to run right out the door!

I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard a soft voice say… ‘Do not run, we are with you, be strong.’ And I was. The exorcism lasted six hours! I was dead tired and wasn’t sure I was going to make it through, but I did and as I was fighting this demonic entity, I could see others! But I had very strong help.

At the end, the young lady was laying on the kitchen table. Her color had come back, the air was warm, and the stench was gone! The house felt like a house and not some desolate cave in a mountain! When the demon left it was like a roar of a lion again and two windows burst out! Then it was gone!

The husband came running in and over to his wife! He covered her and carried her off [to] the bedroom so she could get dressed and she did. The man thanked me at least a hundred times. The man handed me a check for eight thousand dollars. I gave the check back and told him to donate it to a local church!

I did get the name of the demon, and it was one of the most fierce I ever met. It was so very strong and it could have taken my life at the snap of its fingers! But it wasn’t me it was fighting; it was who was with me: My God and savior! It would have killed me for sure, but it was the God of life who fought it! I don’t take credit for what I do. God has that glory.

I cannot tell you everything that happened that day, but the demons were defeated and I live another day to tell the facts of that meeting. But the truth is, it was the most frightening entity I ever encountered, and God be willing, I won’t ever have to face anything that powerful again. I have faced many, but never this strong! Amen!”

Kym: That sounds really terrifying and I’m sure that retelling the story can also be draining as I can feel you reliving it, so I’ll just finish with two quick questions: What don’t we know about Demonologists?

Bat: “There are real and there are fake. Personally, my colleagues do not accept me in the Demonology field because I do not have a certificate of authenticity, but in the field you cannot just pull out a certificate and show it to a Demon because he will laugh at you. Because of my Facebook status I refuse to sit there and look down my nose at people who are not Christians. I do not preach fire and brimstone. I am not a judge; that is God’s work. I am just a mere man, I have many flaws but my love of Christ is what keeps me going. As for my colleagues, all I can tell you [is] Kiss my Bat butt!! I am here to help people with paranormal issues and [with] being demonically influenced, obsessed and possessed. I have fun on Facebook, but when it comes to people needing help, it is all about business then. Someday I will write a book and hopefully it will inspire young hearts and minds that love and serve Christ. Amen.”

Kym: And lastly, what do you love about being a Demonologist?

Bat: “I love everything God. He is my Savior and love everything about His word (meaning the Bible). I love His message. I do not fight Demons, however, Jesus does. He is in my heart and if he wasn’t the Demons would win every time.

Thank you for the interview; I can only hope that it will inspire people to get into this field and fight the good fight.”

Kym: Thank you Bat. It was such a pleasure talking today. I really appreciate your time and your honesty. 

If you have any comments for Bat, please leave them in the comments section.


©kym darkly


©Tanya Grout

The ramming boulder took the door right off its hinges. Old rotting wood flew back across the room, almost hitting Kari – a startled eight-year-old who darted behind the leather sofa.


The police were astounded at what they saw: Old Woman Ireland was secured in her rocker by the window, anchored in. The green tendrils of a plant had shot up from their heavy urn, beside her and plunged deep into the woman’s ears. They had torn painfully through her skull, through parts of her brain and then had ripped out her eyes, pushing the ocular tissue to the side – strange, bloody bulges.


The sturdy stalks had crawled down her face, crisscrossing into her nasal cavities, plummeting down her trachea and into the trunk of her body, exploding out of organs, creating a maze of convoluted control over this powerless body.


Shocked EMS personnel cut off the old woman’s shirt, as the photographer documented parts of the plant that could be seen under Mrs. Ireland’s wrinkly skin. Some of the vines had travelled down her arms bedside fragile veins, riveting each limb immovable in a right-angled position. These slender stems had then spilt off and out of her fingers forming an extended hand of woody digits, with little green shoots that trapped many a fly with their undulating stickiness.


Other vines had carved a stronger journey through her trunk and pushed through the fragile tissue of her lateral thighs, sliding off the chair and down to the floor. They had then grown through the soft wooden planks; deep into the basement and into the soil underneath, where they had became rooted.


There was just one question from the lead inspector, “How on earth could this have happened?”


Only Kari knew, as she had envisioned it, had planted the little bulb in the urn and had fed it thoughts to help it grow. Although #158 hung from her mother’s toe at the morgue, the magic had been passed on at birth and Kari had used it well to avenge her mothers murder, keeping Granny Ireland alive through the whole torturous ordeal. Alive… breathing…


© kym darkly


©Tanya Grout

What everyone saw was a shining, articulate woman holding it all together – living her dream: the talk shows, the brilliant performances, the book release. She’d made millions. She was beautiful and smart. She made people laugh; yet behind that glossy image, a nightmare was beginning to unfold.

It was the fast insanity of it all, the dragging of her mind into a quicksand of Hell-bound thoughts. How could this happen: laughing one minute, desperate and lost in the next?

This thing that had crawled into her in the middle of the night was sucking on her soul, draining her life force, and was taking her down, fast! It had burrowed a hole inside that nothing could fill, had manufactured a terrifying emptiness, a darkness, an excruciating migraine of madness.

Was it a demon, a creature, a ghost?

Who could she ask? They would think her crazy. She’d become tabloid fodder, a joke. She would lose her reputation – lose it all. She knew she was sick, but she felt so alone.

Lee looked at the bottle of pills in her hand. It would be so easy: one snap decision to stop the suffering and just like that she’d be gone. Another celebrity overdose – an addict they’d call her, just like they did with all the others. But they’d be wrong and this thing would just move into someone else…


©kym darkly


©Tanya Grout

It didn’t come with horns or cloven feet. It had come with a briefcase and in a crisp suit – with sublime sayings it had learned as would a psychopath, a predator. The creature had deceived with gifts, charm, and a moonlit swim, yet it had transformed while I slept over night, back into what it was…

Eighteen feet tall and burning alive with awesome anger, just that one hand clasped and thrust my cracking thorax twenty feet into the air. I instantly knew this beast was him: “the suit.” It had the same cold, ice eyes. The ones I should have fled from, ones I had seen before in others.

Its nails dug in deep like a clamp: how much blood could issue from a desire to break free, to wriggle from its grasp, away from that endless inner darkness?

Exquisite pain ripped through my chest, just a beat before the Devil that it was pierced this Teflon cage of ribs and flesh to freshly break my heart.

Would I ever again have the chance to run before it all got started, to detect the sickness of the monster before it mainlined poison into my soul? Or was I destined to live this eternity sweet-talked through an endless cycle of Hell… and more Hell?

© kym darkly


©Tanya Grout

The veil was thick. Her parents had said it was to keep demons at bay.

Vows exchanged, her “husband” lifted the netted curtain from her delicate face, and she saw him for the first time… He was the demon! His eyes told her so: bright blue irises upon jet-black sclera.

What cult was this?

The words, “Till death do us part,” resonated like an adrenaline snake writhing inside her gut: slipping, squeezing, tightening. This, alongside memories of the last few days: the constant companion approving her every move, the pre-nuptial agreement she had signed, the life insurance policy…

Shayla, took a step back, lifting her heavy skirts. One breath in, she turned and ran down the steps of the altar and fast down the isle, past her deceitful betrothing parents, towards the double doors and out – but the noon sky was dark. There was nothing there, nothing at all…

© kym darkly

All Rights Reserved, but please feel free to re-tweet, and repost 🙂


©Tanya Grout

The medium sat still in the shadows. He listened to Mi Li talk.

Her candle-lit face flickered of the Philippines, the nose, the eyes: almond shaped and beautiful. She was shaking. “Please help me,” she said, “Every morning, I hear the cat padding around the living room. I hear it yawn, eat its food, race up and down the curtains…”

“And that’s a problem?” The medium asked.

“Yeah, it is when it’s dead!” She said. “First my father died of a massive heart attack. The next day his cat jumps off the roof of the building, killing itself too. I find fur-balls everywhere, paw prints over my pillow and I wake up with scratches all over my body. It’s making me ill, I’m so upset.”

The medium slipped into a trance quickly and was soon shaking violently. He spoke in another voice that scared Mi Li because she knew it was someone dead reaching through from the other side. She hoped it wasn’t her father, as he terrified her some.

“The cat didn’t take its own life. Your father’s ghost did. The mad spectre dragged it by the scruff, screeching and mewling, up to that roof top and threw it off so he could have its company in the afterlife, but all he did was create an enemy…”

The medium slipped out of his trance. His eyes alive with warning: “You have a house guest: vicious and raging, out for blood with sharp teeth and razors for claws. Beware sweet Mi Li, Beware…”

© Kym Darkly


As soon as she got home and closed the door, it took control. She couldn’t speak or move. She was simply rotated off the floor and raised horizontally on a pillow of air, four feet above the tiles in the hall. An invisible force, soft but strong pulled her arms out from her body. Her lips trembled, blue from shock. Her eyes peeled open far beyond their capacity, pinned back – a clockwork orange nightmare.

A shoe flew off ripping her foot and breaking a toe before smashing through the front door window – it’s shattered glass a violent explosion, throwing shrapnel back that cut into her hands and face.

Her coat melted at the seams and floated away in pieces gently bobbing beside as if afloat in a zero gravity capsule, but this was earth. This was her home.

She’d grown accustomed to the doors rattling, the boards creaking and the taps turning on and off, but now that she was suspended, now that a razor sharp energy ripped up her spine busting the discs from each vertebrae, she fully understood its power and she clawed for an idea of how to escape what might happen next…

© kym darkly


Why was he wearing a helmet made of tin foil? I thought. Maybe he’s one of those UFO freaks.

“Lotta lost souls in them cities,” he said, a plume of rancid garbage wafting over. I noticed that his lips didn’t move. I looked around. There was no other on the train.

“The Lost Ones, thems you gotta look out for.” Still his lips didn’t move.

Train stopped. Lights out! Even emergencies. Pitch black.
An echo-scream flared from the bowels of the endless winding underground.

“Sound like animals trapped in time, don’t they? The Lost Ones are comin’
to rip yous apart.”

“What the fuck?” I blurted, not sounding at all like a Partner in Law at Burns and Badden. “They’re just coming for me? What the fuck about you?”

“I’m wearing a helmet,” he whispered. “They can’t hear me think.”

“Well I can!” I said angered by another scream, this time closer.

“Yeah, but you ain’t them,” he replied.

The next scream was in the car. Panic time. Whatever these things were, one was scampering right for me. I lunged across, grappled around for the old guy, grabbed his helmet and crashed it onto my own head. I stumbled back, completely blind in the dark.

His yelling was crushed by crunching, spitting, and slurping. Whatever it was, was enjoying him as a meal and I, though morally bankrupt, was safe – for now…

© kym darkly


Her body twirled slowly through the air like a pig on a spit. She had the haunted look of a girl whose soul had been stolen, but the peace of one bombed on cosmic drugs – paralyzed. Over the farm, a radiant beam cut the resident cow clean in two from head to hoof; one half fell heavy to the grass. The fog was thick, warm, but passing through on this lullaby of trance and mist she hit the other side: harsh light in the sky, blinding.

Wrinkled long fingers, eight to a hand, reached out like endless branches from the hovering craft, grasped her soft skin violently and fed her into a pod that shut down on her like a coffin.

Darkness. Fear. Peace and paralysis gone.

A gel crept up from below, moved into the small of her back, then over her hips. It hovered a thick rim around her face threatening to flow over and in. She kicked and screamed: an animal aware of the tortures of an abattoir. Then the sharp long knives stabbed up right through her, thin enough to barely damage an organ, but thick enough to terrify their victim. The creatures with the fingers were watching, their sight penetrating the capsule. They would observe their screeching specimen drown first and then the fun would begin…

© kym darkly

All materials on this website are © Kym Darkly. All rights reserved.

Please ask for permission to re-blog or re-post. I happily share 🙂