kym darkly 1

Sally dished the egg out of the boiling water with a teaspoon and washed it under cold water. Her gaze was far off, watching the latest abduction story on TV, “That poor little girl,” she said, “Only five years old. The terrors of this world.”

“Mom!” Evan cried.

Sally looked back. The egg was rocking on the spoon. Something was trying to get out, cracking the hard shell with little jabs from the inside.

“Oh dear lord ‘n Jesus!” She crossed herself. “If that’s a live chick in there, I swear I’ll never eat an egg again.”

But then she got curious; surely nothing could survive twenty minutes of boiling.
Sally moved her face in to get a closer look, but it wasn’t a beak pecking that shell. It was a blade-like limb that suddenly shot through the broken milky surface, just missing Sally’s eye. She dropped the egg into the sink with a yelp.

Evan stood on tiptoes to watch it shake, rumble and smash against the steel sides.

“Step back,” Sally urged.

As Evan leaned in closer, a sharp metal face broke violently through the brittle encasement. Evan gasped at its crystalline eyes, which held him captive in an instant. He was entranced.

Wretched spindly arms and legs covered in viscous white membrane reached out pair by pair and pulled the ghastly monstrosity out of its hiding place and into the sink. It then shook the white off, leaving itself camouflaged by the steel basin.

Losing sight of it, Sally screamed, “Where is it? Where did it go?”
But Evan could see. He instinctively reached into the sink and grasped the cold freak of nature, throwing it back into the boiling water, as the little monster bit a chunk off his hand.

Sally screamed, watching the gore of this psychotic animal eating her son’s flesh feverishly under the boiling bubbles. The hot water was an incubator, not a killer and this thing was growing.

Clasping her head, she felt insane, not knowing what to do. Sally scrambled for a tea towel to wrap Evan’s hand.

It took only two minutes in the pot before the creature jumped back out, hitting the ceiling and clinging there, enlarging to twice its size above the two of them. Sally grabbed Evan and attempted to run, but it sprayed her with a dark fetid liquid that made Sally freeze, mouth agape and eyes wide with fear, her head cranked up and back towards the ceiling.

When the grotesque beast jumped down, it enlarged once again – this time standing tall enough to tower over Sally. It threw open an angry jaw showing rows and rows of serrated teeth, blowing hard gusts of vile breath. It was hungry. It had a lot to accomplish in this world. It would need new fuel and these two pieces of flesh seemed like a good place to start.

When the chomping began, Sally could hear the bones crack, but she couldn’t tell if it were her own body or her son’s. She knew that she was doomed, but she prayed that Evan would be able to escape…




©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



After seeing her husband off to his weekly social function with a polite kiss on the cheek, she rushed upstairs to rip off her pristine dress and pearls, to unwrap the seductive presents she had bought for herself: stockings, corset, and a wig – black with bangs to cover her long, luscious strawberry locks.

Ashley threw on a trench and grabbed a tiny purse that would hold a lot of money, a few wet wipes and a sharp switchblade… to protect herself.

She felt like a femme fatal sneaking out of her gated home in this sexy disguise, catching a limo in the night.

She hadn’t been to the club in years, but lately she’d felt the calling. She’d been inspired by recent events. None of the girls would recognize her in her wig, which was just as well. It wasn’t a social visit.

Although she knew she shouldn’t be there, she instantly clicked into that old feeling of energy and power, something she’d missed and had to tone down in her role as perfect wife to a controlling banker.

She walked through the big black door, past the bouncers, through the neon corridor where the dance music first pumped its primal beat, past the heavy curtains into the underworld of black light, hot exotic dancers and animated businessmen.

She loved the charge of being in control, the power of being a sex symbol; loved wearing shoes with platform soles so high the heels hit nine steel inches; loved how they dug into the leather of the VIP chairs while she gyrated her flawless body above those execs, catching her own full neon lips and lithe undulations in the mirror above.

Her first objective: get a whiskey sour and score some E. Then she’d be off to a good start. She’d need some help tonight. She hadn’t been here since she’d married three years ago. She felt guilty, but it also excited her – this night ahead.

It didn’t take long before she spotted him: the easy target. He was drunk already and pawing a girl who wasn’t having any of it. Ashley made her way over and, removing her jacket, relieved the girl of his company.

It was clear that he couldn’t see straight as he was bombed, but Ashley was very strict with him as she stepped up onto the seat and towered above placing her feet on either side of his thighs.

He tried to paw her, but she pushed him back with a foot jab, a bit of heel. She grabbed his tie and made a noose to secure his hands together, which she pulled to the side holding onto the booth simultaneously to maintain balance. He seemed to like this.

“Kinky one. I’ll pay for that.”

“Yes you will,” said Ashley playfully as she slowly pulled the switchblade from her little purse. Crouching to his level, she flicked it open and held it softly to his throat.

“Whoa!” He joked, “You remind me of my wife, before I beat it out of her!”

Ashley brought her face very close to his – shaking, yet almost kissing. She stared into his big dazed eyes.

“Sweetie,” she said seductively,” I am your goddamned wife, but you never beat it out of me. I’ve just been saving it up. Happy anniversary darling.”

There was a hint of recognition in his eyes, before Ashley drew the knife slowly and deliberately across his neck.

She flew off him as blood spurted in all directions. She grabbed her purse and jacket and ran towards the door screaming. “Someone attacked him. Help, help.”

Ashley fled out the front door, as her husband was swarmed by dancers, bouncers and patrons; confusion erupted and police were called.

Ashley crept around the back of the club where it was quiet and dark. She put the switchblade back into her purse and tried to clean some of the blood. It would take a shower or two.

As police swarmed the front of the club a limo slipped past them, picked Ashley up and drove off into the night. Ashley asked to stop mid-way at a bridge. She took the switchblade out of her purse and flung it into the water, watching it sink into oblivion… Free.

© kym darkly




It had come again in the middle of the night, undulating under the sheets like a flat fish might swim at the bottom of the ocean.

Petrified, Bobby jumped out of bed. He watched the creature, with its wave-like motion, slink under the covers heading down to where his feet would always be, the place where it would wriggle before slipping off and away.

In his mind he thought he would catch it and maybe even cook it, if it was a fish, although his mother had said that ghosts couldn’t be eaten or cooked.

You’re not escaping this time, Bobby thought, ripping the sheet right off in an attempt to expose the mystery. But he didn’t see anything. It was invisible as ghosts tended to be.

Bobby got closer, bravely holding out his hand in the terrified hopes that he might touch it. He padded around until finally his delicate fingers landed on top of the slippery creature. Bobby yelped, but kept his hand there on the invisible eeewy fish, desperate to make sense of this thing that haunted him night after night.

The wires from his head sent out crazed signals to computers and machines that measured his brain for activity. Suddenly the sleep lab was full of personnel, but Bobby was oblivious. He was trying to hold onto the cold ghoul that kept escaping his grasp.

Suddenly angered, Bobby grew violent. He threw the sheet back on the thing to see where it was and grabbed his heavy Bible to kill it with. Slam, Slam!

“Ughh, it’s already dead,” said Dr. Rupert from behind the lab’s glass. Doesn’t he get it?

“No, he doesn’t get it. He’s just a kid,” said Rebecca – his striking sidekick.

“I know darling, but we need a kid who can catch one, so we can study it,” replied Rupert.

Bobby’s vital signs were in trouble. The beeps jolted them back to the computer screens.

“Its attacking him. This always happens,” Rebecca said, “Just stop it right now! We dont want to lose him.”

Ignoring her, Dr. Rupert gave a go-ahead signal with his hand through the glass.

The crew did what they were instructed to: sprayed the phantom with a new liquid that had been developed by the brilliant grad student: Rebecca McCauley.

This new variation worked and the crew grew excited as they could finally see a true ghost, albeit a vicious orange jelly that had planted its entire sticky being over Bobby’s face and torso.

Their own faces turned to horror quickly as they witnessed it sucking his brains, blood, tongue and other tissue out of his eyes, ears and mouth with a vicious pumping cycle, ultimately sending out a huge splat of blood back up at the glass of the lab.

 A flat line, and the ghost released its obliterated victim. There was no more live tissue to refuel its dependency needs and so it slipped back into invisibility and disappeared before it could be captured.

Dr. Rupert sighed – annoyance. “Call the parents, our condolences, he went mad, congenital defect and we couldn’t save him.”

“You fucking do it. I’m done,” Rebecca snapped. On her way out she slammed the door, torn over why she still loved this cold-hearted man…

In the blood splattered lab, Dr. Rupert reconsidered. “I’m not sure that’s a ghost…”

© kym darkly


©Tanya Grout

The finger broken, snapped open. A gasp. A fear escaping her startled eyes. His heavy hand cracking the digit further back at the knuckle, with rage. This was just the beginning for Marshall Shaw – leader of “the movement.”

He dragged her up by the hair to the open stage, onto the village platform and yelled out, “She just ain’t human!” There was terror in his voice.

The crowd’s eyes moved like marbles on sloped surfaces, searching for answers. They stirred. How could he treat her so violently? She was his wife!

“Come look at her,” Marshall cried. “Bring your vision, and your mind, and your judgment!”

The bravest went first towards the wretched woman, now on her knees, hair twisted in his fist. Marshall held out her hand for all to see: inside the skin was a strange machinery. It wasn’t bones and blood. It looked like cogs and wires and screws… but upon closer inspection they saw that the stuff inside was made up of other creatures, tiny ones they had never seen before – wriggling and writhing, each in tune with the other.

“She ain’t one of us,” Marshall yelled.
“Maybe she’s from the future,” Old Woman Wise snarled.
“’Nother planet is more like it,” came the preacher’s reply.
“A Witch!” Yelled Marshall, “with all them critters inside.”
“Let her be,” cried the woman’s sister.
“Are ya gonna meet yer maker tonight too, little sister” he snapped back.
She had children. She would be quiet.

“Friends,” Marshall addressed the crowd, “help me to break her open!”

Ten or more men rushed to the stage. They wrestled and fought with the screaming woman until they pulled her arms from their sockets, her torso in two and her head right off.

Big greasy sluggish ropes of flesh and detailed scuttle-spiders with cog-like qualities issued from her core. Fish-like entities and jumping eels flopped and flipped. Her face melted as creatures crawled from her head, out her eyes, nose and mouth.

When the last jellyfish of a miniature monster oozed from her bloated abdomen, the human body casing was dry. In the desert heat it sparked alight and flew up into the air like a balloon; then it blew right up, sending the men scuttling towards their wives.

“Whatever they are, they’re spying on us,” Marshall asserted. “And each and every one of you’s has got to prove that your wife ain’t one of ‘em.”
“How do we do that?” One of the youngest men asked.
“By lining ‘em up and breaking their fingers open…”

©kym darkly


©Tanya Grout

It was stuck between his teeth: that familiar tongue that should have swirled with sensual beauty and ease, but his mind had other plans and so he’d arrested its movement with his own.

It was an awkward moment. He just didn’t see her that way any more. She had become an investment and so her tongue was just a thick cumbersome piece of flesh that sent him into a rage he knew mustn’t express.

Truthfully he wanted to bite the damn thing right off, but that would reveal his deeper plan. Faking enjoying a kiss was sickening even to a man who’d accept sex from strangers. The best he could do was to pull away prematurely leaving her wondering, as she had as of late.

“Is it an affair?” She inquired, yet again.
No, it’s the fucking monster inside me, he screamed inside his own head.

The documents had been signed a long time ago, but he’d taken a calculated while to follow through. If he waited a year, he’d reasoned, the insurance company wouldn’t suspect the drowning, the poisoning, the strangulation, or whatever the Hell he was going to do. If he showed up at church with her on his arm, even better: people would say how devoted he was.

No, it wasn’t a goddamned affair! When greed possessed him he just wasn’t human, and that was all…

©kym darkly