All Hallows Veil

[ All characters are over 18 years of age]

[ *Author's note: The underlying premise for this story is drawn from a dream sequence in a different story that I wrote several years ago. I always felt that it deserved more, and to this day, when I read the ending, I inevitably end up with a few tears in my eyes. Here I offer a reimagined retelling of that older tale. It is an expanded standalone story in its own right, with new characters.]

Dramatis Personae

Allison ~{ An INFJ Virgo goth girl, waitress in an upscale restaurant, our heroine}~

Elizabeth ~{ An unusual woman who runs an orphanage not far from where Allison works}~

Courtney ~{ Queen bee and royal bitch, manager of the restaurant where Allison works, secretly a fledgling Demon}~

Stephen ~{ Allison's slightly older stepbrother, a college student, who is hopelessly in love with Allison}~

Michelle ~{ An everyday girl, Allison's BFF, works as a waitress in the same restaurant with Allison}~

The Prince of Demons

The Demon Horde

Late October, Saturday afternoon

"Can't you do anything right?" Courtney quipped harshly as she glared at Allison. Courtney stood with both hands on her hips in the classic pose of a boss scolding an underling. Courtney was particularly indignant at the moment because Allison, while carrying a tall stack of dirty dinnerware to the restaurant kitchen, had accidentally allowed a small saucer to topple to the floor directly in front of Courtney. A dollop of something that looked like leftover chocolate dessert had splattered onto the toe of one of Courtney's expensive red leather ankle boots.

"Take those dishes into the kitchen and then come see me in my office," Courtney demanded of Allison. Courtney then fluttered her hand impatiently toward another waitress who happened to be watching the confrontation, clearly directing the other waitress to come to Courtney's side.

"Michelle, I want you to handle Allison's tables for a few minutes," Courtney instructed.

"Yes, Ms. Courtney," Michelle replied while giving a sidelong glance to her best friend, Allison.

After depositing her stack of dirty dishes in the kitchen, Allison followed behind Courtney toward Courtney's office, all the while listening to the hypnotic click-clack of Courtney's heeled boots against the expensive hardwood flooring and wondering what new torment she would face this time. Allison needed this job for a number of reasons, one being that she was helping her stepbrother through college; another being the bounty of leftover food which Allison would cart from the restaurant to the local orphanage each evening after her shift had ended. The food would just be discarded if not for Allison's efforts, so there was no theft involved. Allison didn't really believe that Courtney would actually fire her, unless Allison did something to deserve it based on the judgement a normal person - which Courtney certainly was not. Allison was a high performer and was well liked by many of the clientele, and Courtney knew it.

"Close the door behind you," Courtney instructed.

Allison closed the door and assumed a somewhat subdued demeanor with her black platform boots nearly touching at the heels, and did her best to look contrite. She fluffed her long black hair over her shoulders apprehensively before lifting her gaze to Courtney. "I'm sorry about the dish, um, your boot, Ms. Courtney," Allison said apologetically.

"Sorry doesn't clean my boot, does it?" Courtney chided, then she continued, "You're going to clean my boot exactly as I instruct, or I will fire Michelle. See what I did there?" Courtney of course knew that Michelle was Allison's best friend.

"Um, yes, alright Ms. Courtney, just let me go get something from the kitchen to do it. I'll be right back," Allison responded.

"No, not like that," Courtney said ominously. "You're going to lick it clean."

Courtney slid into a chair and crossed her legs, the leg with the soiled boot atop the other.

Allison swallowed, and considered whether she had any real option other than compliance, her bitterness toward Courtney increasing to new heights. There was no choice really; Allison couldn't allow Michelle to lose her job. Allison's shoulders slumped a little as she moved toward where Courtney sat waiting imperiously. Allison dropped to her knees.

"And don't scratch the leather with your stupid tongue stud. Honestly, you're somewhat freakish with all of the metal on your face... and wipe off your slutty black lipstick before you begin, or you will just make things worse. It's lucky for you that you are well liked by several of our VIP customers," Courtney admonished.

Allison sighed inwardly yet outwardly remained stoic. She did not want to give Courtney any more satisfaction beyond what Courtney was already going to gain from humiliating Allison with this demeaning display. Allison leaned forward and placed her hands on the sides of Courtney's ankle boot. From this vantage point, Allison could see the oversized yet very lifelike tattoo of a black widow spider which decorated the outside of Courtney's leg just below the hem of her skirt. With Courtney looking down at her haughtily, Allison lowered her face toward Courtney's soiled boot toe and started to lick it with the tip of her tongue.

After about two minutes of watching Allison lick her boot, Courtney spoke up, "Alright, that's enough. Now get back to work and be more careful going forward."

...

One day prior

Allison had just finished making her nightly delivery of food to the orphanage, when Elizabeth, the woman who ran the children's home, pulled Allison aside to make an unusual request, "Tomorrow is Saturday, a day when we typically do not see you. Have no worry - I understand that you work later on Saturdays and you do all that you can to make up for it on Sundays. Regardless, I need to ask you, please come to see me tomorrow night. If you could arrive at around 10 o'clock, all of the children will be settled by then. I have something very important to discuss with you... and bring those closest to you if you can. You will need their help. Please Allison, it's extremely important. I will explain more tomorrow night."

Allison focused her dark brown eyes on Elizabeth's lips as she spoke because Allison could not clearly see the woman's face. Elizabeth always wore loose robes or dresses, and always with a hood or cowl to shadow her visage. Allison surmised that Elizabeth was probably about fifty years old or so - she had been running the orphanage since before Allison was born.

Allison was uncertain what to make of the request, but there was something about Elizabeth; a solemn presence, or grace, which made Allison feel almost compelled to agree to the visit.

...

Saturday evening, the present

"Well, here we are," Stephen proclaimed. "It's not like any of us had anything better to do on a Saturday night anyway," he finished.

"I wonder why she wishes to speak with you, and why she asked you to bring your besties," Michelle said without even looking up from her phone.

Allison glanced at Michelle for a moment and then turned back toward her stepbrother, Stephen. She reached a hand up to smooth a few stray locks of Stephen's light brown hair, using her salon crafted black almond fingernails like a comb.

Stephen almost sighed but managed to maintain his outward calm. There is a certain indescribable feeling that a young man feels when a woman whom he is attracted to touches him. For Allison, playing with a few locks of her stepbrother's hair was just a casual gesture in line with her Virgo nature and always wanting to present a meticulous appearance; her own as well as that of those close to her. For Stephen, it was as if Allison's fingernails dancing in his hair were pulling at the strings of his soul.

"I'm not sure why, but maybe after, we could go hang out in the park, across the bridge, if we want," Allison responded.

The trio approached the ornate wooden double door entrance to the orphanage. Stephen stepped up and rapped with the door knocker three times in quick succession. The appearance of the knocker was that of an armored angel holding a two handed sword, point down, as if in the act of vanquishing something. The sword itself was the knocker.

"This thing is awesome," Stephen observed. "I wonder how old it is."

They all heard a sound of some heavy lock or bolt being moved and then the door swung inward.

Elizabeth appeared in the gap, almost as if she were a shadow, backlit by a dim glow from within the orphanage. "Welcome, please come inside," she said.

Once all were within, Elizabeth closed and locked the entry doors behind them. "Please follow me," she said softly.

Elizabeth guided the trio rightward along a counter-clockwise curving corridor for some distance, and then subsequently through a set of heavy doors on their left. The four emerged into a small circular courtyard, enclosed on all sides by the structure of the orphanage. A few old electric lights mounted to the walls were sufficient to provide a dim illumination within the yard.

*~*~*~*~*~*

*~*~*~*~*~*

Allison felt a deep spiritual shift of some sort, as if now she might be in a different place with a different set of rules than those familiar to her. It seemed to her that she had gained a heightened clarity of insight as well as an improved ability and inclination to perceive things greater than herself. Her mind reoriented to this new perspective.

*~*~*~*~*~*

*~*~*~*~*~*

"I, wow," I think to myself as I glance first at my stepbrother and then to my best friend, Michelle. I wonder whether they are experiencing anything like what just occurred within me.

"Did you feel that?" I ask curiously.

Both Stephen and Michelle reply in turn, "Feel what?"

I see Elizabeth look toward me knowingly even though I cannot see her face clearly within the shadow of her hood.

"There are things that I must tell you, which you will not believe," Elizabeth begins, "but I will offer proof and I will need your help. Everything depends upon it."

A wind too warm for the end of autumn swirls around the little courtyard. Dry brown leaves cavort against worn cobblestones. The sound is like a death rattle. A statue of an Angel stands vigilant nearby. A complex symbol is scribed or scratched on the stones at the center of the courtyard.

Elizabeth speaks to us in soft tones, her voice trembling just a little, seemingly with age. She is serenity and grace, and I wish that one day I might be like her. Michelle stands close beside me, to my right. Stephen is a pillar of calm standing protectively to my left.

Elizabeth tells us of a veil between planes of existence, and that this veil is always thin at this time of year, but that at thirty year intervals, on All Hallows' Eve, the veil becomes so fragile that it is possible to cross between planes. She tells us of ancient Ley lines which intersect in the park across the bridge from where we are now, and that it is there where the veil will tear first and remain open for the longest time; from just after dusk until just before midnight.

I lean against Stephen as Elizabeth explains that the veil separates creation, life, and joy from destruction, death, and despair. We three are here in this place, at this time, because we must do something vital, and, should we fail, a scourge will come which will unleash a campaign of lust and vile depravity upon us all.

Elizabeth continues, "Spirits can cross the veil but even the worst of these can do little to harm the living. It is a scourge of Demons who will wreak havoc upon us, corrupting the flesh and souls of mortals in order to swell their ranks. Those who are innocent, mostly children, are simply consumed, their souls ripped from their mortal shells and fed upon, erased from existence. This is an abomination against the creator."

Elizabeth sighs softly. "I see the doubt in your eyes; each of you," she says.

"Come closer to the central symbol, here, but do not under any circumstance step within it," she warns.

Elizabeth withdraws from her robes a small pair of scissors like one might use for careful sewing tasks. She reaches up and pulls a lock of hair from within her hood and neatly snips a few strands, clasping the cut hair betwixt her thumb and two fingers.

"Watch closely within the circle formed by the symbol, but heed my warning. Do not enter," she repeats.

Elizabeth holds the wisps of her hair forward, near the edge of the symbol, and then with a flick of her wrist, she tosses them inside the circle. Before the wisps can fall to earth, a darkness forms within the circle. It is a ragged tear in reality which grows until a wicked claw-like hand reaches forth to grasp the edge of it as if it were a physical thing. Baleful red eyes filled with lust and hatred search outward through the tear. The wisps of Elizabeth's hair begin to burn intensely.

In the fleeting moment it takes for the wisps of hair to burn to nothing, I see the hellish gaze lock on me, and then, in the blink of an eye, the tear snaps closed and all is as it was before.

"What the fuck was that?" I ask with incredulity. I realize that I'm digging my nails into Stephen's arm.

"A Demon," Elizabeth responds.

"But, why your hair, I mean...", I ask.

"I cannot explain that to you yet. Please trust me," Elizabeth replies.

"I believe," Stephen says.

"So do I," Michelle adds. She is hugging her arms against herself.

"Me too," I respond. "We believe you, but why us, why me? What can we do?" I ask.

"Allison, you have a particular spirit. It is what is needed. I'm sorry that I must ask this of you, but there is no other choice," Elizabeth says solemnly.

"But, what are we supposed to do?" I ask again.

"In a few days it will be All Hallows," Elizabeth explains. "On that day at dusk you must make your way here to the orphanage, and then to the base of the bridge nearby. It is on the bridge that we must stop the Demon horde. This orphanage is much more than it seems. It is a bastion against evil, and a refuge for the children within its walls. The Demons must not reach this place. Know that we will not be able to save everyone. Many who will be in the park that night will be lost. The truth is that there are already some Demons among us. When the veil is open, Demons couple with humans in every act of carnal lust imaginable, turning those humans they copulate with into fledgling Demons who have the ability to mask their true form. A few of these fledglings inevitably elude the closing of the veil each thirty years. They live among us and make ready for each next thinning, in hopes that the next thinning will be the time when their kind will prevail, and they will finally be able to unleash themselves upon our world."

"How can I, we, fight these demons?" I question.

"You must bring a ward which I have kept safely hidden until now, to the bridge, on All Hallows' eve. Those fledgling Demons already among us will attempt to stop you. You must be ready to fight them, any way that you can. Stephen, Michelle, you must protect Allison. If she falls or is taken, then the future will be lost," Elizabeth warns.

Elizabeth approaches me and places a small wooden box in my hands. I accept the box from her. I feel reverence but also fear. It is a simple thing with a few vague carvings cut into its surface. Elizabeth extends her hands and places her fingers at specific locations around the box. Her touch is light and she applies no pressure. I still cannot see her visage. She asks me if I see the pattern. When I nod, she drops her hands, but leans close to me and whispers that I will know when the time is come to open the box, but that if I should open it before the proper time, all will be lost.

Elizabeth moves to Michelle and then in turn to Stephen, whispering something to each of them that only they can hear. They look at me. They understand what they must do. I see it in their eyes. Each of them loves me.

...

October 31, All Hallows' Eve

It is dusk now and the sky is dark, ominous, unsettled. The unusual heat has become oppressive. The orphanage is near. We stand beneath a great oak. All is still. We rest for a few moments, and then move onward. I carry the small box with me.

In the distance, beyond the bridge, there is a sound like thunder, and the ground trembles. Unseen from where we are, an abyss opens in the center of the park. It is a tear in the fabric of reality. A Demon Prince, first among his kind, emerges. He lifts his malevolent gaze to the heavens briefly before growling harsh commands in the language of Hell to others who have now appeared all around him. They are hooved beings with flesh like molten copper, beautiful wicked nightmare creatures of carnal lust.

A female slinks to a nearby male and assumes the position, on hands and knees, her jutting breasts against the earth, her backside raised. The male takes her roughly, his bull-like cock forced into her ass, leaving her cunt empty. She ruts with complete abandon upon him, clawing with one hand at her sex as he fucks her.

We see a shop or a home nearby with its door ajar and we seek a brief refuge within. We feel safe momentarily, but we know it will not last. Stephen beckons us to move upstairs. We need to be able to see the Demon horde and plan our course to the bridge.

...

It is an hour past dusk. We are near the base of the bridge, hidden in dense shrubbery. Acrid smoke drifts around us. Sections of the city close to the bridge are burning. Alarms scream incessantly. People have fled. There are fledgling Demons all around us but the horde from Hell is still massing in the park, preparing to cross to our side of the bridge. It seems a miracle that we have not yet been discovered. Stephen looks at me. I know what he intends to say. I shake my head from side to side and then embrace him fiercely. His arms enfold me firmly. I breathe. Michelle places a hand upon my shoulder gently, and leans to kiss Stephen upon his cheek. It is a farewell but I can hope. I pull from Stephen's arms and steel myself. He slips away into the night to distract the fledgling Demons nearest to the bridge. I do not know if I will see him again.

We wait a few brief moments and then Michelle and I leave our refuge and move forward, onto the bridge, keeping to the darkest shadows. We know that there are fledgling Demons in the streets behind us. They seem to be waiting for something.

We are close to the midpoint of the bridge when the attack comes. A fledgling Demon bitch charges us. She strikes Michelle first, knocking her sprawling and dazing her. The bitch tenses, almost imperceptibly, and then she launches herself upon me. I fall backward against rough concrete, scraping my hands and elbows and leaving small trails of blood as I scramble.

I am nearly pinned upon my back beneath the fledgling bitch. I claw and scrape and kick, seeking desperately to scurry back, to avoid and to escape the sinuous tail that darts and plunges against my skirt, between my legs. It snakes and thrashes, guided by the wicked intent of its owner, seeking to pierce the core of me. She seeks to defile me, to make me what she is. This is the way of the scourge. It compels them beyond all other drives.

A cat sized black widow spider jumps from the bitch's shoulder, and pounces upon my thigh. It skitters its way quickly until it looms hideous and obscene between my breasts, hissing at me and clicking its mandibles threateningly. The bitch is silent, deadly, eyes blazing amber gold as she leers at me. I see that she is Courtney and I want to scream. For a moment, time seems frozen.

Courtney tears at my clothes with her razor sharp talons, exposing me. I am more naked now than clothed.

The arachnid skitters to one side of my face and flexes its limbs, moving its body up and down, almost as if in anticipation of what will come.