The Sheriff’s PleaIn
988 Words
In the southwestern corner of Houston’s East End, about five kilometers from the port, stood an old church. Its brick walls bore the marks of time, weathered and crumbling.
James struggled to navigate the muddy road, still slick from a recent rain, and finally arrived at the church’s door. He adjusted the police cap on his head, raised his hand to knock, but was interrupted by a series of muffled thuds that echoed from behind the heavy doors.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The sheriff furrowed his brow at the unmistakable sound of something heavy being struck. Instead of knocking, he pushed the doors open with both hands. The interior of the church came into view.
The long pews, once neatly arranged, were now stacked haphazardly against the walls. Several figures, their heads covered with sacks, were bound to wooden chairs with thick ropes. A tall man stood with his back to the entrance.
“Green!”
Sheriff James didn’t stop to question what appeared to be a violent scene. Instead, he walked right up behind the imposing figure and called out.
The man, Green, paused what he was doing and turned around slowly.
“Well, well, Sheriff. What brings you here today?”
Green had a handsome face, but the faint smile at the corner of his lips did little to soften the stern and unapproachable aura that radiated from his sharp features.
James ignored Green’s question and gestured to the bound figures. “What about them?”
“These pests…” Green’s expression darkened as he glanced at the captives with clear disdain. “They were selling drugs nearby. I caught them.”
James frowned with equal disgust at the mention of drugs, but he chose not to address the obvious illegality of Green’s actions. Clearing his throat, the sheriff got straight to the point.
“I need your help. The next county over is dealing with something… complicated. They need someone like you.”
“Oh?”
Green grabbed the hood of one captive and wiped the blood off his hands. He looked at James, whose expression betrayed a hint of anxiety. “Let’s talk in the back.”
He walked past the altar and headed down the hallway to the right.
“Tea? Coffee?”
“Just tap water.”
Green put down an old can of coffee he had pulled from a cupboard and poured two glasses of water.
“So, what kind of ‘complicated’ are we talking about? Spirits? A demon?”
“You still prefer boiled water,” James remarked as he gulped down the glass. He exhaled heavily, then began, “You know, before I met you, I was a firm atheist. But after that incident three years ago—”
“Stop.”
Green cut him off, tapping his finger on the table. “Get to the point. I have an appointment this afternoon.”
James cleared his throat and leaned forward, lowering his voice.
“A little girl in the neighboring county—she might be possessed. She’s speaking languages no one understands, has gained immense strength, and is highly aggressive.”
Green’s brows knitted slightly as he rubbed his left wrist with his right hand. “Didn’t they call a priest to exorcise her?”
“They did. It didn’t work.”
James straightened up, his face etched with frustration. “Those priests just read scripture like it’s a ritual. It’s useless.”
James placed a firm hand on Green’s shoulder, his tone earnest. “You’re the real deal, Green. That girl’s condition is worsening. Her family needs you.”
Green’s expression remained impassive. After a moment, he took a sip of water and replied, “You know I’ve been banned from performing exorcisms by the Church.”
“Damn those old men!” James swore. “Nobody cares about them!”
“I was there when the priests tried to exorcise the girl. Three grown men couldn’t hold down a ten-year-old child!”
“Green, the sheriff from the neighboring county is an old friend of mine. He knows you’ve helped me deal with similar cases in the past. He’s asking for your assistance this time.”
“Don’t worry about those old men. This is our turf; no one will report you!”
James’s urgency was clear, but Green didn’t immediately respond.
“You know, James, my methods differ from those of typical priests.”
“I know. I told the family about you. They don’t care how you do it—as long as you save the girl.”
James locked eyes with Green, his hand still gripping his shoulder. “They brought the girl home from the hospital today. She won’t make it to dawn.”
Green sighed softly. There was no point in refusing now.
“Wait for me at the door. I need to grab a few things.”
James’s face lit up with relief. He nodded quickly and hurried back to the church entrance.
Green walked alone to his bedroom and went straight to the bookshelf on the left. His eyes scanned the rows of books until they landed on a thick tome with gold-embossed lettering on the spine.
He pressed on the book, and with a faint click, the bookcase slid aside, revealing a hidden wooden door secured with an old iron lock. Green pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.
The hidden room was expansive, with rows of metal shelves filled with weapons and tools. In the center stood a sturdy wooden table.
Green grabbed a backpack from the table and began selecting tools suited for an exorcism. Ignoring the firearms that occupied most of the space, he carefully chose only the essentials.
Before leaving, he paused at the doorway, turned back, and picked up a handgun. He secured it in a holster at his waist and exited the room.
“Let’s go.”
- Writer
