Legends of the Treasure Child

John felt his heart pounding hard in his chest as he quickly strode across the streets, past the docks and further away to the shadier and not so well lit places of the harbour area. The dock side was worn here, with plenty of debris floating in the water, including newspapers, dead dogs and cats and rotten food and timber. He felt her before he could see her, and soon, some 80 feet junk emerged out of the darkness. She held a full suit of crimson red sails, twenty-eight cannons through slender black hulls. The Crimson Lotus glided soundlessly into the harbour area, settling elegantly to the harbour side. John was so proud; he felt tears fall from his golden eyes.

‘John’ she whispered teasingly, inviting him on board.

“You and I are old friends, right?” he said to her, struggling with a lump in his throat. They’d been partners a long time ago, but he could not remember where and when. The memories were locked away somewhere in the inherited memory package from the other Thyrions in the long gone past.

‘You and me, John’ she said seductively.

He smiled to her, reflecting inward how different and alike the Lotus and the Pearl were. Like whore and mother.

“I’ve have a gift for you” he spoke softly, turning towards his followers which were approaching rapidly.

‘I can’t wait to taste their blood’ she replied, her voice husky and hungry.

John stood to watch Tully and two comrades stride out of the gloomy dock-side light. He smiled wickedly as they approached in triangular shape, Tully at the front, the other two flanking him.

“Whores, witches and demons! They’ve got no place on God’s green earth” Tully said, producing a wooden spike from his inner pocket. “You’re a gonner, demon spawn, either you like it or not! I don’t want no demon goin’ about in my town tryin’ to possess people, casting spells, turning our women into whores!” Tully shouted, drawling some on his path. He wasn’t quite sober. Neither were his comrades, all though they seemed to have a little more sense in their heads as their steps became warier as they approached John, seeing his eyes glowing golden in the sparse firelight from oil lamps around on poles. John was partly shrouded in darkness, his face glowing pale, almost skull-white against the dark. He grinned at them, almost chuckling happily as a small boy about to receive his gifts on Christmas morning. Tully produced a small flask, and John flinched as Tully threw the contents at him, obviously expecting a reaction. None came. John simply sniffed at it, cocked his head and said:

“Holy water? You think you can take me down with some poorly blessed water?”

“Quiet your tongue, demon, or I’ll make you eat it! You will return to the Hell from whence you came!” Tully then charged, screaming as he attacked. John let him come, avoiding the striking blow, avoiding the grasping hands from one of his comrades. The other one managed to grab his arm, and upon contact John seized his lower arm, clenched and spun, twisting the man’s arm right out of its socket. His screams filled the air as blood gushed out from where his arm had been, soaking the jacket shoulder. John let go, and the detached limb slid out through the sleeve of the bloodied jacket arm. His comrade screamed his name, his eyes bulging at the sickening sight just as Tully screamed and charged again, striking out a John with the wooden spike. John easily got out of his way, and he kept dancing about, playing cat and mouse with Tully and his friend until he tired of the game, and decided enough was enough. He wanted the priests instead. These mere mortals were no match to him whatsoever.
John avoided a lunge from the other thug’s cutlass, and charged Tully straight on, parrying his blow midair, wrenching the wooden spike out of his right hand. John held the spike up in the air where it immediately took fire, burning to ashes in John’s grip. Tully and the other one stopped to stare, awe-stricken. The third person, who’d lost one arm, was lying motionless, dead from the enormous loss of blood.

“My God, you’re for real!” Tully exclaimed.

“That’s right. I’m not a fraud, or shall we say, an innocent wrongfully persecuted and sentenced victim. I’m the real deal! And now, you and your dead friends are mine.” John said triumphantly. Tully looked from John and over to his friend, who stared at John. He clearly wanted to flee, but couldn’t move, and as he looked down on his legs to see what was detaining his feet, he saw that the flesh had melted together, his pants in shreds around his ankles. He screamed, motioning to Tully for help, reaching out for him in terror, but Tully backed away in distaste, scared of what he saw. John did a motion with his hand in the air before the other man, and soon his lips grew together as well, muffling his screams. He grabbed for his mouth but couldn’t find any, and he promptly lost his balance, landing with a thud against the timber. He was like a seal lost on shore, incapable of moving. But he did manage to roll around, tossing and turning in order to escape what was happening to his body. In the ultimate end, he couldn’t stop himself before he ended in the water, drowning as water flooded his nose.

“There you are” John grinned, “one less to worry about. And now, you’re coming with me!” Tully screamed and turned to run, but tripped in something. He landed across the dead body of his bloodless friend, and before he could get up, John grabbed him. Tully twisted and turned as he felt his lips go pudgy and sticky, like glue had been attached to his lips, binding them together. It was very soon closed, and he turned to glare horrified at John, screaming behind sealed lips, whimpering as John dragged him onboard the Crimson Lotus.

Coming onboard was like being swallowed by a whale, for everything seemed alive. The railing felt like live skin, adjusting to his touch, and as soon as John let go off him, he desperately crawled to the plank, attempting to get away.

“Mr. Tully!” John said to him sternly, “we can’t have any of that now, can we?” John continued while grabbing him by the collar, hauling his victim over to the other side of the boat towards the mast. He pinned Tully there, tying his hands above his head, hoisting him until he was forced to stand. Mr. Tully was sweating, his muffled pleas being the only thing to cut through the unnatural, nocturnal silence.

“God has forgotten you, Mr. Tully” John spoke softly, “he no longer sees you, for you have disappointed him so many times,” John produced a silver knife. “So therefore he won’t mind if I cut you open a bit, and feed you to my ship, savvy?” He held the knife up to Tully’s face, showing him the sharp edge and laughed a quiet, menacing laugh before he began the handiwork.

Father Corbex awoke with a start, and he stared directly at the cross on the wall above his head. He quickly spun around, shuddering and gasping as he beheld it. The Christ on the cross! It hung upside down. He hurried to turn it the right way, wondering where the nail had gone.

“Looking for this?”

Father Corbex turned in bed and screamed as he saw John standing in the doorway, his eyes glowing golden in the dim light from the moon.

“Be gone, you unholy creature from Hell! I command you, turn now and forever be damned! I call on Thee, Archangel Michael, in the name of the Father, The son and The holy spirit, go back to the Hell from whence you came, demon spawn!”

“You know you don’t really mean it” John grinned. “Tell me, just out of curiosity, what was the deal between you and Baalial? What were you going to get in return for sacrificing Rosemary? Eternal life? Gold? Or some sort of relic, perhaps? The shroud of Jesus Christ?”

“Don’t you dare take his name in your mouth!” Father Corbex spat, getting out of bed and reaching for his bible. It slipped from his fingers, and onto the floor fell the Black book of Satan. He remained standing with an empty book jacket of the Bible, and he stared from it to John and then back again.

“Just as I thought. It takes a Satanist to know one, savvy? Only, we both know who’s the true Satanist here, and I dare say it’s definitely not you. Only amateurs summon the most dangerous demon there is and give him an innocent girl to possess for a few years.”

“It wasn’t supposed to posses her! It was a mistake!” Father Corbex snarled, hurling the empty jacket at John.

“That’s not what he said. He claimed you gave her to him. You consciously destroyed a young maiden’s life just so you could convince, no, SCARE a few more people into believing in God. So a few more seats in your church would be filled during Sunday service. How pathetic!” John hissed the last words, feeling the anger wash over him, thinking of Rosemary and what she must have gone through and what she must have missed of life. “Did you ever stop to consider Rosemary’s feelings? Her despair and her pain? She’ll never be truly free because of you! That demon raped her mind every single day for three whole years!”

“A lamb needed to be sacrificed for the greater good! That’s the way it is!” Father Corbex retaliated, taking a few steps towards John. “Think about it, Treasure Child, for that is what you are, right? I could give you immense power. I’ve read about you treasure finders! You turn everything into gold! The church could really use some more riches. I could ensure you a place among the people. You could have all the women you desire—“

“—you talk of the church as if you actually served her, but let’s not forget your true nature, shall we? a true Satanist lives in an equal relationship with the earth, adhering to Satan and his Truth. And the Truth, buried behind lies, shall be unveiled, and the Lie which is the truth, shall fall, and all who believe in it will fall with it, until at last, the Truth emerges, raising Hell on Earth. A true Satanist uses knowledge and collects knowledge and wisdom through summoning demons so he may elevate himself from the common crowd and become the shepherd, a guide for enlightenment. Telling a demon to exploit another human for his own benefit is equal to murder.” John paused to look Fatehr Corbex up and down. The man in his fifties, was standing bare feet covered only in a night gown, steadying himself by holding on to the window putty. He seemed shocked, and gaped at John.

“You—“he began, collecting himself, “—the Truth and the Lie. You know the words in the proper order...! My God...!”

“Aye. It snows in Hell this night. But you, heh, you’re headed for another destination, called everlasting purgatory!” John made for the terrified priest, grabbing him around the neck with both hands, nearly choking him. The priest almost lost consciousness, and was helpless as john dragged him out of his bedroom. He tossed the old man down like a rag doll, rapping hard at the wooden door in the opposite end of the large living room. John went to lean against the wall next to the door, and waited for the other priest to answer. Father Corbex struggled to breathe, to get his bearings and gasped for air as the door creaked open, and a sleepy Father Rutherford peered outside. He was shocked to see Father Corbex lying on the floor.

“No!! Get inside, it’s John the Revel—“ Father Corbex coughed. But John got to him before Father Rutherford could respond, and he felt the muscles of his throat give in as John closed his hand around his neck, dragging him outside the bedroom.

“Holy mother Mary!” Father Rutherford exclaimed, “—dear holy mother of Christ, save us!”

“There be no saving here” John grinned, stepping over Father Rutherford, “only damnation. Wolves in sheep’s clothing can and never will be anything but wolves, no matter how hard they try.”

“Wha—“ Father Rutherford gasped, “what are you talking about?!”

“Fooling people on their deathbeds into leaving everything to the church and nothing to their rightful heirs. Forging the deads’ signatures, exhuming dead women and cutting out their dead unborn children which you then either buried in unmarked, unblessed graves or simply tossed into a ditch somewhere. The list is long. Should I continue? No. Allow me to escort you to the window, so you may have a look at the crowd outside who are calling to me, demanding your head on a plate.” John dragged Father Rutherford over to the living room window, and what he saw, made Father Rutherford pale. His knees went weak, and he screamed in terror yet he could not escape John’s grip on his shoulder. Father Corbex rose and followed them over to the window, and his eyes opened wide as he eyed the large number of ghostly grey people. Men and women alike. And the women, whose faces looked up at the silhouettes in the windows, were stern and condemning, twisted in anger and pained of the loss they all had suffered.

“Look at the women, Father Rutherford. This is what your belief in God has made of the dead. They cannot find peace, for the ones they failed to give birth to in life, is still denied them in the afterlife. They are the invisible inhabitants of Tortuga, walking among the living day and night, looking for their unborn children which you took from them. And over there, the elderly ones, who cannot find peace knowing that their sons and daughters are living in the outmost poverty because you tricked them of their heritage which went straight to your pocket. Now I promised these people you two would suffer, and suffer you shall. The Crimson Lotus shall forever be your new home, and there you will suffer, never finding peace in your minds again now that you know the consequences of your actions.”

Father Rutherford’s knees finally gave in and he collapsed onto the floor, the ghost’s pained faces becoming too much to bear, as he realised what he’d done.

“It’s time to go then”, John said with a smirk.