by DBA Lehane
by DBA Lehane
The child reached out a tentative hand and placed it upon Father O’Connor’s forehead. “You ain’t no ordinary preacher man, sir,” she said, cocking her head to one side as if reading his mind. “And you is gonna burn in hell!”
Stunned and horrified Father O’Connor removed her hand and stared in muted disbelief. As a Catholic Parapsychologist, employed by the Vatican to research and, ultimately, debunk claims of clairvoyant abilities, Father O’Connor was used to dealing with so-called psychics, mediums and witches - but this ten-year-old girl was different, very different indeed!.
Macy Wallace was the seventh child born to a pair of poor African Americans living just outside of Birmingham, Alabama. From the moment she began to speak Macy had made predictions about future events. Floods, tornadoes, train crashes and even the 9/11 World Trade Centre attacks had allegedly been predicted in amazingly accurate detail. Most startling of all was the fact that Macy had been born blind and yet she was able to describe colours, sights and even the smallest details in her premonitions.
“You’ll have to forgive my sugar, Father, but she is blessed with a blind vision,” her mother whispered, apparently unmoved by Macy’s outburst. “God has given her the foresight of angels. She sees with the Almighty’s eyes!”
There was no denying that Macy was possessed with some kind of diabolical phenomenon. She had passed a precognition test that Father O’Connor had undertaken with ESP cards. A deck of 25 cards with 5 symbols: star, cross, circle, square and wavy lines. He’d asked her to predict the five cards he would pick at random from the pack. Five times out of five Macy had been completely accurate. Father O’Connor had never experienced test results like it before.
“I’m afraid it’s no blessing,” he eventually responded a little shaken. “It is more likely the curse of the Devil. You should arrange an exorcism at the earliest opportunity.”
“I’m bored with this Preacher man,” hissed Macy venomously as her vacant eyes rolled malevolently in their sockets.
“That’s alright sugar,” her mother replied glaring at Father O’Connor. “He be leaving right now!”
An hour later Father O’Connor shivered and pressed down on the accelerator, relieved to finally put some distance between himself and Birmingham. Once he got back to Boston he would phone the local priest and recommend a blessing and exorcism for Macy before the girl’s soul was lost for good. Despite her blindness he had still felt her glare; a seething, scorching hatred that seemed to burn right through him as she spat out the words about burning in hell.
Disturbed and distracted by the recollection, he never registered the car pulling out in front of him until the very last moment. Desperately he slammed on the brakes and tried to swerve around it. Instead he lost control totally, spun and smashed headfirst into a brick wall at high speed, screaming as the car exploded on impact.