[Scrupulous Conscience]

Well written, but Burke is out of character, especially being a Catholic. The title is dreadful.

[iamnoone]

Thanks for the writing compliment. As far as the title, I wasnt attempting to give this a title at all; I just wanted to name the post that compiled them. I guess the real title would be “Chapter…”

Im curious as to what you mean by Burke being out of character. Could you give me an example?

I attempted to incoporate;
1) He has somewhat of a drinking problem that leads to somewhat “loose” language (i.e., the exchange with Karl which is referenced by the demon)

2) He pines for Chris

3) He is Catholic, which is why he brought up the crucifix

Could you give me an example of what you mean?

[Ken]

Hi, I was reading this story and really enjoyed it very much.My only criticism, well…point of contention is that Sharon was not Regan’s sister.Otherwise, I really did get the sense that I was almost reading a lost page from the William Peter Blatty novel.Great job!

[fatherbowdern]

iamnoone, let them eat cake! I think it’s a good job on what is actually missing (albeit intentionally) on Blatty’s behalf in his novel.

[iamnoone]

Here are the three Burke installments compiled into one for your reading pleasure…

The house was silent. Beautiful silence, Burke thought, his eyes falling on the pendulum of the grandfather clock as it kept time. In his mind’s eye he thought of Chris. So perfect. His eyes narrowed and he smiled softly at the prospect of waking her up at 3 in the morning to re-shoot the scene, framing a vision in his mind’s lens of her body slinking out from under the covers to come to the phone, the camera zooming in on her bare shoulder before she slips the fallen strap back up. Beautiful at any hour, my dear.
His eyes drawn back to the pendulum, he felt a dull heaviness on his shoulders, and for a moment felt his heart beat deep within his chest in perfect harmony with the timepiece. Tick. A glimmer of hope for Chris’ affection reflected is his eyes, but vanished before the pendulum completed its course. Tock.
Slipping his hand inside his coat, his fingers found the crucifix. He held it at arms’ length, his thumb outlining the limp torso of Jesus. “Poor bastard,” he uttered with bated breath, “didn’t even get a final toast”. In an instant, he felt the metal of the crucifix grow cold. The heaviness in his chest returned, and just as he was about to let the crucifix slip from his grasp he heard Regan’s soft voice from the top of the stairs cry out, “Burke…” He turned his head, clutching the crucifix and looking up the stairs. He half-expected to see her standing there before him, as the voice sounded so clear, cutting through the silence in the house. He placed his foot on the stairs and began his ascent.

*******

Regan opened her eyes. My bed. Barely able to open her eyes, she scrambled her mind to piece together memories of where she was and how she got there. Mother? An image of her mother at the piano flashed through her mind. And there were others, laughing, and then nothing, as if someone had removed her memory. Sharon, she remembered. Sharon had touched her cheek while she lay motionless. Regan saw her face in her mind, and tried to move her lips to call out to her sister, but no sound would come from her throat. Only a shallow, labored breath, as if a weight had been cast down upon her back escaped from her lips. She whispered Sharon’s name, and her pupils narrowed as her eyes locked on the crack of light slipping into the room from under the closed door.
Someone’s in my room. The thought raced into her mind as she felt a presence by the wardrobe. Someone’s in my room. Regan’s heart pounded in her chest as she tried to lay motionless, scanning the room with her eyes without moving her neck. She remembered what the doctors had told her about her nerves; that her mind could sometimes play tricks on her, and she prayed amidst her terror that this was the case. The light coming in from beneath the door went black, as if someone passed in front of it, eclipsing the light, yet Regan saw no one as the light re-emerged. Someone’s in my room.
Wanting to scream, she opened her lips, but her voice would not respond. She stared towards the light, wishing Sharon or her mother would emerge to check on her, or…Burke, she thought. Burke was here. She remembered hearing his voice downstairs, and never wanted to see his face again so terribly as she did now. Regan felt a chill on the back of her neck, and now felt the presence all about her, as if a dozen faces in all corners of the room had cast a cold stare upon her body. Again her eyes fell upon the light from the door, and she saw her breath escaping her lips. A terrible cold enveloped her body, piercing through the heavy covers. Overtaken by panic, Regan glanced at the light under the door ready to make her move, when the room went black. She closed her eyes tight, and opened them slowly. In the pitch, the eyes of the demon stared back.

*******

Burke gently laid his left hand on the door, and twisted the knob with his right, carefully opening the door to Regan’s room. The light from the hall fell on Regan’s face; her eyes wide open, transfixed on the floor near Burke’s feet. Burke found her stare unsettling, as if she was locked in a trance. Poor child, he thought.
“My dear”, Burke whispered, kneeling down next to her bed. “Regan…” he whispered again, his voice trailing off as he realized she was either unable or unwilling to respond. Her eyes remained fixed, even as his shoulder blocked her view. Looking closer, Burke watched her slightly chapped lips. They moved slowly yet purposefully, as if Regan was trying to form an undecipherable word. Laying his hand upon her forehead, he uttered, “Rest, Regan”.
Burke slipped his right hand into his jacket pocket, and pulled out the crucifix, smiling at Regan as he held it on the bed in front of her. “Your mother would have my head if she saw this…” he whispered. “…our little secret”. With those words, Burke slid the crucifix under the mattress near Regan’s pillow.
Regan’s lips stopped moving, and her relentless stare made Burke uneasy. He rose slowly from his stance, and was startled as the far window across Regan’s room flew open with a sharp crack. Confused, Burke stumbled toward the window, and extended his arms to close it. His motion was ceased by the sound of his own voice, directly behind him. “Never went bowling with Goebbels either I suppose, ah?”
Burke turned his head and stared into Regan’s dark eyes. A coy smile was etched on her lips. Burke’s mouth opened wide, and his voice cracked as he tried to find words. As he tried to speak, Regan’s smile dropped, her teeth clenching as a deep grunt bellowed from within. Burke stared back out the window for a moment, consumed by a sense of panic. His fingernails dug into the pain of the window as he felt Regan’s cold fingers glide around his head. In an instant, Burke’s head was twisted around, the bones in his neck cracking as he was brought face to face with the demon. His face locked in a frightened stare, the smile returned to Regan’s lips as she pushed Burke’s limp body out the window.
From within, Regan watched in horror as Burke’s body tumbled down the stairs onto M street.

[demonregan]

actually I disagree leaving this bit of info out of the novel adds more of the errie scariness and mystery of the novel in my opinion of course.one can imagine so many scenerios of how he died at the hands of regan. No pun intended. imannone did a faboulous job!! he definently has talent!!

[Author]

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