Jasper’s Thursday evening exorcism
Date: 2025-06-26 18:57
(Jasper’s Thursday evening exorcism)
[Thu Jun 26 2025]
Colonial Memorial Cemetery/span
It is afternoon, about 65F(18C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. It’s raining. The mist is heaviest At Elm and Blackstone/span
The rain patters steadily against the weathered headstones of Colonial Memorial Cemetery, turning the June afternoon into a grey, misty tableau. Jasper stands at the wrought iron gates, water dripping from his shaggy hair as he surveys the scene before him. Two police cruisers sit parked along the gravel path, their red and blue lights casting eerie reflections off the wet granite markers.
Detective Rodriguez approaches through the drizzle, her coat collar turned up against the rain. “Glad you could make it, Meadows. We’ve got a real strange one here.” She gestures toward a cluster of ancient oak trees about fifty yards into the cemetery, where yellow crime scene tape flutters in the breeze. “Two bodies found this morning by the groundskeeper. Dr. Elena Blackwood from the university’s archaeology department, and Marcus Chen, one of her graduate students.”
The detective pauses, wiping rain from her face. “Here’s the weird part – they’re positioned in some kind of circle drawn in the dirt. Looks ritualistic. And there’s artifacts scattered around that don’t belong to any collection the university can account for.” She hands Jasper a small evidence bag containing what appears to be an ancient bronze amulet. “The coroner’s preliminary says no obvious cause of death. No wounds, no signs of struggle. They just… died.”
A low, mournful sound drifts across the cemetery – almost like a bell tolling, but distant and hollow. The detective frowns. “Been hearing that on and off since we got here. Groundskeeper swears there’s no bell tower anywhere nearby.”
Closing his coat, Jasper gives the detective a nod in greeting as he receives the evidence bag. “That sounds strange,” he comments while he examines the amulet. “Did the groundskeeper notice any strange movements before he found the murders?”
Detective Rodriguez pulls out a small notebook, flipping through rain-dampened pages. “Groundskeeper’s name is Bill Henley – been working here for thirty years. Says he locked up around sunset yesterday, everything normal. But when he came in at dawn…” She pauses, consulting her notes. “Claims he saw what looked like a ‘shimmering’ near the oak grove around 6 AM, right before he found the bodies. Described it as heat waves, but the morning was cool.”
The bronze amulet in Jasper’s hands feels unnaturally cold despite being sheltered from the rain. Its surface bears intricate engravings – spiraling patterns that seem to shift slightly when viewed peripherally. A faint inscription in what appears to be Latin circles the outer edge.
“Henley’s pretty shaken up,” Rodriguez continues. “Been muttering about ‘voices in the mist’ all morning. We’ve got him giving a full statement back at the station.” She gestures toward the crime scene. “The university’s sending someone to identify the artifacts, but they won’t be here for another hour. Scene’s been photographed and processed, so you’re clear to take a look.”
The spectral bell sound echoes again across the cemetery, longer this time. Several crows perched on nearby headstones take flight, their caws adding to the unsettling atmosphere. The rain continues to fall steadily, and Jasper notices the mist seems particularly thick around the area where the bodies were found.
“Good to know,” Jasper replies to Detective Rodriguez once he finishes examining it. Pulling out his phone, he uses a translator on the Internet to translate the Latin before he heads towards the grove. On his way, he takes notices of the crows and the mist with caution.
a tarnished silver chalice, an obsidian blade, a leather-bound journal, and what appears to be an ornate brass compass.
The spectral bell tolls again, and this time Jasper can almost pinpoint its direction – it seems to emanate from directly above the ritual circle. The mist swirls more aggressively now, and the temperature drops noticeably as he draws closer to the scene.
“Dark magic,” Jasper mutters under his breath, putting his phone away before clutching his coat with one hand. Even when the rain is halted, he shivers and moves to examine the circle. “Should have brought my sword with me…”
As Jasper approaches the ritual circle, the details become clearer through the mist. The circle itself is carved into the earth – not drawn, but actually gouged deep into the soil around the base of the largest oak tree. Strange symbols mark the perimeter at regular intervals, their edges still sharp despite the rain trying to wash them away.
Dr. Blackwood’s body lies at the circle’s center, her arms positioned precisely at her sides. Her face is peaceful, almost serene, but her eyes are wide open and completely white – no iris or pupil visible. Marcus Chen’s body rests just outside the circle’s edge, one hand stretched toward the boundary as if he had been trying to crawl away.
The scattered artifacts form a deliberate pattern around the bodies. The leather journal lies open near Blackwood’s feet, its pages fluttering in the wind but somehow remaining legible despite the rain. Jasper can make out sketches of the same symbols that mark the circle’s edge, along with notes in multiple handwritings.
A sudden gust of wind carries a whisper through the trees – not quite words, but something that sounds almost like sobbing. The brass compass needle spins wildly, unable to find magnetic north. The mist begins to coalesce into vaguely human shapes before dissolving again.
The spectral bell rings once more, and this time Jasper feels a distinct chill run down his spine that has nothing to do with the weather.
Stopping on his feet, Jasper peers around, a low growl under his breath until he notices the compass. “Show yourselves,” he speaks in a low voice, his amber eyes scanning the area.
“The binding weakens… she feeds on sorrow… took my child…”
Behind Jasper, Detective Rodriguez’s voice calls out through the rain: “Meadows? You finding anything useful over there?” But her voice sounds distant, muffled, as if coming from much farther away than it should.
The ghostly figure’s hollow eyes fix directly on Jasper, and she raises one translucent hand, pointing at the failing ritual circle.
“What binding?” Jasper inquires the ghost while he hears the detective’s distant voice. “How do I stop this? Who is she who took your kid?”
“Jasper? I need your help over here…”
“The circle… holds her… but the rain…” She gestures desperately at the carved symbols, where rivulets of water are indeed washing away the deeper grooves. “She is grief incarnate… feeds on loss… my daughter Elena…”
The realization hits – this spirit shares the same name as Dr. Blackwood. The ghost continues, her voice growing fainter: “Elena tried to bind the wraith… but became its vessel… the ritual failed…”
Behind Jasper, Detective Rodriguez’s voice calls again, but now it carries an odd, hollow quality: “Jasper? Why won’t you answer me? I’m so cold…” When he turns, he can see Rodriguez standing by the police cars, but her movements seem sluggish, dreamlike.
The brass compass spins faster, and the leather journal’s pages flip wildly despite the lack of wind near it. In the distance, more figures begin to materialize in the mist – other spirits, all pointing toward the failing circle. The spectral bell tolls urgently now, almost frantically.
The carved symbols are visibly dissolving in the rain, and the temperature continues to drop. Frost begins forming on the nearby headstones despite the June weather.
“Rodriguez? Jasper turns his head towards the sourse of Rodriguez’s voice. “Find anyone who knows rituals. This place has unnatural magic here!” He then takes a look at Elena’s body before he asks the ghost. “Is… Was Elena the one who was controlled by a demon named Vor…Vorthak?”
“The wraith grows stronger with each death… must complete the binding before it spreads… Marcus doesn’t understand the danger…”
The ghost mother points urgently at the dissolving symbols. “The circle must be recarved… the binding renewed… or it will possess another and feed again…” Her voice grows desperate. “The artifacts… they anchor the spell… but someone living must complete what Elena started…”
Several more symbols wash away completely, and the mist begins to swirl in a deliberate pattern around the circle. The spectral bell tolls with increasing urgency, and frost spreads further across the cemetery grounds.
“You know I can’t deal with magic,” Jasper tells the ghost, looking down at the fading carvings. “Couldn’t even stand it with my nature.” He then grimaces and shivers more before his gaze falls on the journal.
Below that, in different handwriting – presumably Marcus’s – frantic notes are scrawled: The rest is smudged beyond reading.
The ghost mother nods urgently at the journal. “She knew… but the boy tried to stop her… broke the ritual at the crucial moment…”
More symbols dissolve in the rain. The mist begins to take on a more solid appearance, and Detective Rodriguez’s voice calls out again, now sounding distinctly unnatural: “Jasper… why does everything feel so empty? So cold?”
The obsidian blade gleams despite the grey light, and the brass compass needle suddenly stops spinning, pointing directly at Jasper.
“What can I do to stop this before it plagues the whole city?” Jasper speaks, crouching down to try to read the note while reaching for the blade.
“The binding requires sacrifice of self, not others. One drop of willing blood for each symbol, spoken with intent to contain.”
The remaining symbols in the circle are washing away rapidly now. Only four of the original twelve remain intact. The mist begins to coalesce into a more threatening form – tall, draped in shadows, with hollow eye sockets that burn with cold fire.
Detective Rodriguez’s voice carries across the cemetery, now clearly not her own: “Why won’t you come to me, Jasper? I’m so very hungry…”
The spectral bell tolls frantically, and the ghost mother’s voice becomes desperate: “Quickly! Before she fully manifests! The wraith feeds on grief – do not let her into your heart!”
The brass compass spins wildly again, and frost spreads in a perfect circle outward from where the ritual failed.
“Shit, fine.” Grabbing the blade, Jasper moves towards the remaining four rituals before raising the blade to a finger of his other hand. “Tell me the words I should speak,” Jasper then says.
“Speak: ‘By blood freely given, I bind thee to this place. By will unbroken, I deny thee passage. By sacrifice willing, I restore the barrier.'”
As Jasper pricks his finger with the obsidian blade, the metal burns cold against his skin. The first drop of blood hits the carved earth, and immediately the dissolved symbol begins to reform, glowing faintly with silver light.
The wraith in the mist lets out a shriek of rage that sounds like wind through broken glass. “You cannot stop what has already begun! I have tasted grief, and I will feast!”
Detective Rodriguez’s voice calls out again, but now it wavers between her own and something else: “Jasper… help me… I can’t… something’s wrong…”
The ghost mother nods urgently. “Three more symbols! Quickly, before she breaks free completely!”
The temperature plummets further, and the remaining police officers by the cars begin moving with the same sluggish, dreamlike motions as Rodriguez. The wraith’s influence is spreading.
The brass compass needle points steadily at the next dissolving symbol, guiding Jasper’s path around the circle.
“By blood freely given,” Jasper begins to speak through low growls as he turns to the other symbols. “I bind thee to this place.” As he pricks and let his blood drop on the next symbols, his growling grows more as his face is scrunched and his hands start to shake. “By will unbroken, I deny thee passage. By sacrifice willing, I restore the barrier…”
“One more! The final symbol – complete the circle!”
Detective Rodriguez stumbles toward them, her movements becoming more natural as the wraith’s hold weakens. “Jasper? What’s happening? I feel like I’ve been dreaming…”
The brass compass spins once more before pointing to the last dissolving symbol near the oak tree’s base. The spectral bell tolls one final, resonant note that seems to hang in the air. Frost begins to recede from the headstones, and the unnatural mist starts to dissipate.
But the wraith makes one last desperate attempt, its shadowy form lunging toward Jasper as he approaches the final symbol. “If I cannot feed, then I will take you with me!”
The obsidian blade grows ice-cold in Jasper’s grip, and the ghost mother cries out: “Do not let it touch you! Complete the binding!”
“Stay away from me!” Jasper snaps at the wraith, his usually mellow baritone deeper and harsh as his amber eyes almost seem to glow in the light. Once he’s on the final symbol, he lets one more blood drop from his shaking hand onto it.
As Jasper’s blood hits the final symbol, brilliant silver light erupts from the completed circle. The carved lines blaze with protective energy, forming an unbroken barrier that pulses with each heartbeat. The wraith’s form dissolves with a final, echoing wail that fades into silence.
The spectral bell gives one last, peaceful toll before fading entirely. The ghost mother’s form becomes clearer for a moment, her face filled with gratitude. “Thank you… she can rest now… they both can…” Her spirit dissolves into gentle motes of light that drift upward through the oak branches.
The unnatural cold lifts immediately. Detective Rodriguez shakes her head as if waking from a dream, her eyes focusing clearly on Jasper. “What the hell just happened? I remember walking over here, then… nothing.” The other officers by the cars are stirring similarly, looking confused but alert.
The rain continues to fall, but now it seems natural, cleansing. The brass compass needle settles pointing true north. Dr. Blackwood and Marcus Chen’s bodies lie peaceful within the restored circle, their expressions serene.
Detective Rodriguez approaches cautiously. “Meadows? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Several of them, actually. What’s our official report going to say about this?”
The cemetery feels normal again – just weathered stones, old trees, and the gentle patter of June rain.