Joan of Snar

"Joan, why are you so quiet?" her mother asked as she turned onto the street where their home was situated. "Did you manage to speak to Father Ben's friend?"

"No," Joan replied in a monotone voice as she stared out the window on the passenger side.

"Well, then what took you so long?"

"I ... I needed to use the bathroom," Joan lied as her mother pulled the car into their driveway.

"Well, I'm just glad we were able to visit Father O'Connor. I'm sure it helped to lift his spirits. He's bound to recover soon."

Joan did not have the heart to tell her mother that Father O'Connor was dead. And she did not know how to begin to explain exactly what it was she had witnessed taking place in Father O'Connor's hospital room.

Did Lil ... fuck ... Father O'Connor to death? And how did Lil and Father Ben disappear so quickly? Where did they go? And why was there an owl and a crow in the tree outside the window? Was that just a coincidence?

"I was thinking of ordering Chinese for dinner." Joan's mother said as they approached the house. She turned her key in the lock and opened the front door.

"I'm not hungry," Joan mumbled as she walked inside and began to trudge upstairs.

"Joanie, you have to eat something," her mother insisted.

"Not tonight, Mom," Joan sighed. "I don't have an appetite."

"Joanie, please talk to me! What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Mom. I'm just tired, that's all."

"Well, it's true that you haven't been sleeping well. Go to bed early and get some rest."

"Yes, Mom," Joan answered as she reached the to of the stairs and headed toward her room.

After Joan closed her bedroom door behind her, she laid down on her bed and stared at the ceiling. What had happened? Exactly what the Hell had happened? And who were Lil and Father Ben really?

*****************************************************

Joan's eyes fluttered open. Her room was dark except for the soft moonlight coming in through her open window. How long had she been out for? She tried to turn her head to look at the clock on her bedside table. But she was unable to move the muscles in her neck. Fuck! she silently cursed. Sleep paralysis. Again! She tried to will herself to sit up. However, the only movement she was capable of was the slight wiggling of her toes. And her eyes, which anxiously looked around the room.

From below the foot of her bed she could hear a low hissing sound. It was barely audible. But it was there. The unmistakable hissing of a snake. It's just a hallucination, she told herself. Sleep paralysis causes people to see and hear things that aren't really there. There's nothing to be afraid of. The snake isn't real, she thought decisively.

As hard as she tried to believe what she was telling herself, Joan could not ignore the very real feeling of her sheet and blanket being tugged down and off of her body. Whatever was lurking beneath the foot of her bed was pulling her bed-covers onto the floor. Before long, nothing was covering Joan's body except for her thin blue nightgown.

It's not real, she said to herself. I'm going to wake up in a moment to find myself snuggled under the covers. This is just my mind playing tricks on me. And when the snake appears and crawls up my body, that won't be real either, Joan logically thought in an attempt to keep herself calm. She nervously waited for the phantom snake to make its appearance.

However, no snake emerged from the end of her bed. Instead, a head full of thick dark wavy hair began to rise up, followed by the grinning face and body of a man. A naked man. Joan fixed her gaze on the man's smirking face. The pale moonlight illuminated his dark features. Joan's heartbeat quickened as she realized who it was. It was Father Ben. Or at least the image of Father Ben, created by her unconscious mind. He could not possibly be there in reality, she reasoned. This was all just part of her hallucination.

The specter of Father Ben made his way toward the head of the bed. However, he did not really seem to walk as his legs did not appear to move. He silently glided above the floor as if he was being carried by some invisible force. Joan inwardly recoiled as she witnessed the unnatural action. He loomed over Joan and stared down at her with narrowed black eyes. Joan shivered as she noticed his member between his legs, taut and turgid.

Joan was not sure what was going to happen next. But even though she was terrified, there was also a small part of her that was unexpectedly excited. She looked up at him in anticipation of what might happen next. Was he going to kiss her? Seduce her? Fuck her? Of course it was just a hallucination. None of it was real. Father Ben was not actually standing there in her room, she thought with a mix of relief and mild disappointment.

But then Joan thought back to what had occurred at the hospital. How Lil had aggressively rode Father O'Connor, who was unable to move. How Father Ben had stood by and watched and chanted in some ancient cryptic language. She remembered, with horror, how Father O'Connor had been pronounced dead. And how Lil and Father Bed had mysteriously vanished.

And now here she was, paralyzed, just as Father O'Connor had been paralyzed. And Father Ben was naked by her side, seemingly ready to fuck her. Fuck her to death? The same way Lil had fucked Father O'Connor to death?

Joan could feel a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach as she broke out into a cold sweat. Panic soon overwhelmed her. She tried to open her mouth to scream. But her jaw stayed firmly locked shut. And the only sound that emerged from her throat was a feeble whimper.

Father Ben smiled slyly as he watched Joan struggle to achieve any sort of movement or sound. But it was futile. Joan remained immobile and inert as her muscles refused to cooperate with her mind.

As Joan mentally battled against her paralysis, she felt an unsettling sensation. The fabric of her blue nightgown was brushing against the tops of her thighs. Her eyes locked onto Father Ben. But he had not moved from his position at the head of her bed. But someone or something was pulling her nightgown up her body. However, as Joan searched the room with her eyes, she could see no one else.

The cotton shift continued to slip up over her hips, leaving Joan nude from the waist down. She could feel an unseasonably cool breeze wafting in through the window. She was startled by a sudden chilly gust, as it tickled her naked skin, giving her goosebumps. The soft downy hair between her legs was tousled by the steady current of air. Joan shivered as she felt a tingling sensation emanating from the sensitive nub situated between the folds of her lower lips. As the early summer breeze blew stronger, so did the tingling feeling between Joan's legs. As the wind stimulated her naked flesh, the feeling between her legs intensified until it grew into a pulsing throb.

Joan could not help but moan. It was the only sound she was capable of making. The sensation of the breeze on her skin continued to excite her until she could feel herself growing moist between her legs. She did not care if the naked image of Father Ben standing in front of her was just part of her sleep paralysis hallucination. She was so aroused, she just wanted him to fuck her already. She looked up at him with a lusty gaze. The expression of need on her face was obvious. Why did he not move? Why was Father Ben just standing there grinning down at her?

Joan gasped as she felt her left hand begin to move. Maybe she was no longer paralyzed, she thought with cautious optimism. However, she had not intended to move her left hand. And she soon realized, with dismay, that she could not move any other part of her body at will. She was not in control of the action she was performing. Some unseen force was moving her left hand. Joan attempted to protest. She tried to cry out. But only the faintest squeak emerged past her lips. This appeared to make Father Ben snicker silently as stared down at her.

The tips of her fingers on her left hand stroked the skin of her abdomen, just above her pubic mound. Joan shuddered. The feeling should not have surprised her. But, nonetheless, the touch felt unfamiliar. It was as though someone else's fingers were caressing her. However, Joan also noticed that the strange sensation heightened her arousal. Her nether lips began to feel full and engorged. Her pulsing nub grew in size as it filled with blood. Her clitoral hood retracted, leaving her ultra sensitive glands vulnerable and exposed to the cool night breeze. As the wind continued to blow over her body, the throbbing between Joan's legs became so intense, it was almost unbearable. She desperately longed for release.

Joan's left hand, directed by some sort of invisible force, made its way downward. Her fingers gently combed through the dark hair on her pubic mound. Moving even lower, her middle finger and forefinger stroked her large puffy outer lips. Occasionally a fingertip would brush against her clit, making Joan whine. But the minimal contact was not enough to bring her to climax.

With her left index finger, she began lightly rubbing her hairless inflamed inner folds of flesh. They were slippery and wet from the moisture coming out of her feminine entrance. As her finger massaged her slick inner lips, Joan struggled to regain control of her movements so she could move her finger upward to her clitoris. She needed more direct stimulation. She needed to cum.

She brought her gaze back up to Father Ben. She pleaded at him with her eyes. Whether he was real or a phantasm, Joan surmised that he was the one controlling her movements. She tried desperately to open her mouth. She struggled to move her lips. "Please ..." It came out as a weak whisper from the back of her throat. "I need ... I need to ..."

The steady stream of air coming in through the window was disturbed by a sudden erratic movement. A loud flapping sound filled the silent bedroom, accompanied by a deep raspy croak. Joan looked over to the window and saw a black bird perched on the windowsill. At first Joan thought it was a crow. She had encountered so many of them recently.

However, the black bird in her window was too big to be a crow. Its beak was too thick and curved. The feathers around its neck were long and shaggy. And when it opened its beak, it croaked rather than cawed. It was not a crow. The bird in the window was a raven.

Joan thought back to the nightmare she had had the previous evening. She dreamed that the owl and crow had visited her. And Joan had inhabited the body of a raven. She had followed the owl and crow to a meadow in the middle of a forest where a herd of sheep had been grazing. Perched in a tree with the two other birds, she had witnessed horrible and disturbing things.

The goats, from her previous nightmare, had gored and slaughtered an ox. Then there was the silver snake with the white stripe running down its back from one of her hallucinations. It had bit and killed a lion. The owl and crow had both taken flight and attacked an eagle, which had attempted to capture a lamb.

But worst of all had been Joan's own actions. At the behest of the crow and the owl, she had tried to kill a man. She did not even know who he was because she could not see his face. She could only make out his silhouette as he stood in the dark woods near the edge of the clearing. But his figure was unmistakable. There had definitely been a person standing in the trees just outside the meadow. And Joan had tried to stab him in the neck with her beak. And her reason for this attempted murder? Simply because that was what she thought the owl and crow had wanted her to do. Even though it had just been a nightmare, Joan still shuddered when she remembered her attempt at homicide. Why on earth would she have tried to do such a terrible thing?

But it was just a dream, she reminded herself. It did not matter because it was all just a dream. The man had not been real. Her actions in the dream did not have any consequences. Did they?

Joan shifted her thoughts back to the present moment. Was all of this just a dream, she wondered as her eyes darted back over to Father Ben. He stared intently at her face. He raised his left eyebrow as he cocked his head to the side. Joan felt as though he was silently asking her something? He then looked back over at the raven. What did it mean? What did he want?

As Joan looked at the large black bird in her window, the raven rapidly bobbed its head back and forth. It seemed to be making a stabbing motion with its beak. The bird then turned its head so it was straring directly at Joan. It opened its beak and let out a long deep raspy cry.

"Yes ..." Joan whispered. The sound was barely audible the first time she said it. However, her voice was stronger when she attempted her reply the second time. "Yes!" Joan clearly uttered. She did not know exactly what she was sating yes to. But whatever Father Ben and the raven wanted, Joan was willing to comply in order to regain control over her own body.

Father Ben lowered his eyebrows as his smirk grew into a wide satisfied grin. He seemed to give her a subtle nod of approval. Suddenly Joan was able to move again. She gasped in both surprise and relief.

She closed her eyes and immediately brought her right hand down between her legs. The fingers of her left hand continued to stroke her nether lips. The fingers of her right hand hastily sought out her clitoris. She lightly tapped the sensitive head of her engorged nub. However, as her need for release overtook her, she was soon frantically rubbing her clitoral shaft. As her pleasure increased, she arched her back and groaned. She could hear Father Ben snickering above her as she urgently increased the speed of her fingers. She was almost there. She was so close.

As her pleasure peaked, she held her breath and tensed all of her muscles. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut. The pulsing sensation between her legs rapidly throbbed as her orgasm overwhelmed her. Joan opened her mouth to exhale. "Oh god!" she exclaimed. "Oh my god!"

"Yes, I am your god," came Father Ben's voice from somewhere above her.

"What?" Joan's eyes suddenly opened as she sat up in bed. Panicked, she turned her head from left to right. But she could not see any sign of Father Ben or the raven anywhere in her bedroom. Her window was closed. Her nightgown was covering her hips and thighs. And her bed-covers were on top of her legs pulled up to her lap.

"It was just a nightmare," she said to herself out loud. "Just another fucking nightmare." Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she did need to speak to someone. The school counselor or a therapist. Maybe a psychiatrist could put her on sort of medication to make the nightmares stop.

Joan climbed out of bed, exited her room and walked to the bathroom. She flicked on the lights and walked barefoot across the cold tiled floor. Turning on the faucet, she splashed some cold water on her face.

"Get a hold of yourself Joanie," she muttered as she looked at herself in the mirror. As she began to calm down, her heart beat slowed and her thoughts were soon no longer racing. There had to be a logical explanation for all of the strange events that had been happening.

As she looked at her reflection, she thought she felt her heart skip a beat as something caught her eye in the mirror. It was a glimmer of light reflecting off of something metallic. As Joan looked in the mirror, she realized that she was wearing some sort of a necklace.

With her left hand, she grabbed the front of her nightgown and pulled it away from her chest. With her right hand, she reached down and snatched the necklace pulling it outside of her clothing. It was the pendant Father Ben had given her. The pentacle. But how could she possibly be wearing it? She had taken it off and left it on the front porch of the rectory. Right after she had woken up outdoors because she had been sleep walking.

Was it possible that she had not been sleepwalking? Maybe the sleepwalking and waking up outside the rectory had been part of her nightmare. Perhaps she had never taken off her necklace. Could she have been wearing the pentacle pendant this whole time without realizing it?

"Well, I won't be wearing it anymore," Joan asserted. She reached behind her neck and felt around for the clasp. But the only thing she could feel were the smooth tiny interlocking links of the chain. Carefully she grabbed the chain where it rested at the sides of her neck and slowly rotated the necklace. Staring intently she meticulously watched as the silver chain made its way around her neck. She must have rotated it three or four times. But she could not find the clasp. How could there be no clasp? She remembered there had been one when Father Ben put it on her.

Joan grabbed the front of the chain and gave it a strong sharp yank. The thin metal chain dug into the skin at the back of her neck. "Ow!" Joan cried out. She was shocked that the flimsy looking chain did not break. She picked up a dry washcloth off the bathroom counter and placed it on the back of her neck between her skin and the chain. Once again she pulled and tugged on the front of the necklace. However, the seemingly delicate silver links remained intact. The necklace would not break.

What was going on? How could this be possible, Joan futilely wondered, knowing that there was no satisfactory answer. Concluding that she would not be able to remove the pendant that night, Joan conceded defeat. She threw down the washcloth, turned off the bathroom light and headed back to bed.

As she lay in bed, she decided that she would have to visit Father Ben at the rectory the next morning. As much as he frightened her, Joan realized the Father Ben and Lil were the only ones who could provide her with any sort of answers regarding the recent strange goings on. But did Joan really want to know the actual answers to those mysteries? Especially after what she had seen them had do to Father O'Connor at the hospital.

Joan pulled the thick covers over her. Even though it was June, Joan could not stop shivering. Luckily her quilt was heavy and warm and the weight of it comforted her. But Joan could not ignore the cold metal of the pendant that rested against her chest. As she tried to sleep, the five pointed star sat just above her heart.