The bright light pierced through the darkness as Edward felt his body being shaken.
“Edward, darlin’, you're burning with fever. Deacon Jacobs is here to help. Please, wake up.”
Deacon Jacobs sat next to him on the bed, opening a glass jar he had brought with him.
“Edward, you’ve been obsessed with the outside world, and this is what’s causing your headaches. We teach that straying from the Amish ways invites demons into your life. The things you indulge in—the curiosities of technology, engines, the Englishman's ways—these sins are burning their way through you, my son. This fever... it's the fires of hell.”
The Deacon helped Edward sit upright, holding the jar that contained a clear liquid. He dipped his fingers into the oil and made the sign of the cross on Edward's forehead.
Before Edward could speak of the voice he had heard, a wave of nausea overcame him. He began to vomit violently.
“Yes, Edward,” Deacon Jacobs intoned, “expel the darkness within and turn away from the path you’ve set yourself on.”
Ella quickly fetched a nighttime bucket, placing it at her husband's side to catch his mess. All she could do was watch as the bucket filled, her eyes filled with helplessness.
“Forgive me,” Edward murmured between his heaving breaths. “An outsider came into the store today. He tried to make me sway from my faith, for his. His words must have been poison.”
Deacon Jacobs looked at him with a mix of shame and disappointment in his eyes. He pulled a jar from his pocket, labeled “Dr. Walsh’s All-Natural Molasses.”
“This came from Dr. Walsh,” the Deacon explained. “He’s selling these at his chiropractic practice and assured me they’ll heal most ailments. This will coat your insides and make it easier to keep food down.”
23Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjAqOURrW1E
“Edward, you’ve been obsessed with the outside world. This is what’s causing your troubles…”
The rest of the evening passed peacefully for Edward. After supper, he returned to bed. With his wife, Ella, peacefully asleep beside him, Edward’s subconscious began to race once again in the dark of the night. He found himself haunted by disturbing visions.
In his dream, Ella—his beloved wife—was naked, engaged in lustful fornication with a grotesque man-beast. She was performing her marital duties with this abomination before the Lord. As the creature finished, it let out a howling scream before darting off into the night, leaving Ella exposed and vulnerable in the dark.
Her screams echoed through the air, filling Edward’s ears as she writhed in agony. Her stomach was pierced from the inside by sharp, animal claws. Edward was powerless, forced to watch as her blood soaked him, her flesh tearing away and falling to the floor in chunks.
Then, the unimaginable occurred. A creature, similar to the man-beast, emerged from her broken body. But this time, it wore Edward’s own face.
Screaming, Edward jolted awake, drenched in a cold sweat. The fever had broken during the night, and a chilling morning breeze cooled his skin. He dressed quickly and left the bedroom, moving quietly to avoid disturbing his wife or children.
“Damn bride of the Devil,” he muttered under his breath as he made his way to the barn, eager to wait for the sun’s rise.
Every time he closed his eyes, the horrific image of his wife with the man-beast consumed him. Desperate to block it out, he tried to immerse himself in work, focusing on the tasks around the barn.
“Deacon Jacobs is right,” he whispered to himself. “I brought this calamity upon myself. No more of the outside world. No more of this Devil’s land. I’ll not waste another moment, nor my soul, on these thoughts.”
The smell of breakfast cooking soon brought Edward back to his senses. The sun had risen, and the farm was alive with activity. His stomach growled, reminding him of his hunger as he returned to the house.
“Ella, we need to talk. Something happened last night, my love.”
Before Edward could say another word, Ella turned around from behind the stove to greet him. But the face that met him was not her own. Her features twisted grotesquely into the same image from his nightmare—eyes burning with lust, longing for the release of the beast.
Edward watched in terror as her face morphed into something darker, something evil. It became the face of the Devil, laughing mockingly and making obscene gestures with its forked tongue.
In a rush of adrenaline, Edward summoned every ounce of strength he had left. He lunged at the creature, tackling it to the ground. His fists landed heavy, desperate blows to its face.
With a final surge of rage, Edward stood above the Devil, his boot slamming down on its face with brutal force.
“God help me, Edward, please stop!” The voice that came from the Devil’s mouth was unmistakably Ella’s. But Edward, not fooled again, continued his violent assault.
“You will not have my wife, Devil! Back to Hell with you!” he screamed, each stomp driven by a mixture of fury and fear.
Unseen, their oldest son, William, slipped out of the house, his heart pounding with confusion and fear as he watched the chaos unfold.
ns18.117.7.163da2
