Meridith’s Tuesday night exorcism
Date: 2025-07-29 21:46
(Meridith’s Tuesday night exorcism)
[Tue Jul 29 2025]
Acadian Chapel/span>/span70F(21C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At Autumn and Blackstone/span>/spanMeridith stands just inside the heavy oak doors of Acadian Chapel, the familiar weight of the summer evening settling around her shoulders like a warm shawl. The ancient building holds its secrets close – stone walls that have witnessed decades of confessions, prayers, and now something else entirely. Her footsteps echo softly against the worn flagstones as she moves deeper into the nave.
At the altar, Father Donovan kneels in solitary prayer, his graying head bowed over clasped hands. The priest’s shoulders shake slightly, though whether from devotion or distress remains unclear in the flickering candlelight. His whispered words carry faintly through the still air – fragments of Latin mixed with what sounds like desperate pleading.
The chapel’s familiar scents of incense and old wood mingle with something else tonight – a metallic tang that seems to cling to the back of the throat. Several pews show signs of recent disturbance, hymnals scattered and kneelers askew, as if someone left in great haste. Near the side altar dedicated to Saint Brigid, a small pool of melted wax has hardened on the floor, suggesting a candle burned down completely and unattended.
The ornate clock mounted on the north wall reads 21:46 exactly, its brass hands catching the moonlight streaming through the stained glass windows. Something about the precise timing feels significant, though the reason hovers just beyond conscious understanding.
Meridith tips her head politely to the Father, low and slow steps, she asks plainly, “What is going on in here, sir?” she insists, as she strides over.
47.
Meridith gestures, letting her supernatural senses fill the room, taking in sights, then winces. “That smell is…was there an attack here?” she asks.
Father Donovan’s head snaps up at Meridith’s approach, his weathered face pale and drawn with exhaustion. Dark circles ring his eyes, and his hands tremble as he grips the altar rail to steady himself. “Miss Walker,” he says, his Irish accent thick with strain. “You shouldn’t be here so late. The chapel is… it’s not safe after dark anymore.“
As Meridith extends her supernatural senses, the metallic scent intensifies – not blood, but something older and more unsettling. The very air seems to vibrate with unresolved tension, like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks. Shadows gather in corners where they shouldn’t, and the temperature drops several degrees despite the summer heat trapped in the stone walls.
Near the base of the stairs leading to the upper gallery, her enhanced perception catches something the normal eye would miss – a faint outline pressed into the worn stone, as if someone had fallen there with tremendous force. The impression radiates a deep sadness that makes her chest tighten with borrowed grief.
Father Donovan struggles to his feet, swaying slightly. “There’s been… troubles. Things going missing. Sacred things.” His voice cracks on the last words. “I fear we’ve lost more than just objects, child. We’ve lost protection itself.“
The clock’s minute hand clicks forward with unusual loudness in the heavy silence.
Meridith shakes her head. “Fear not, Father. I am your protection,” she insists. And she turns her gaze to the wall. “…Something has happened here, spirits disturbed, whipped into a frenzy. You know the tale, tell me.”
51. The priest’s breathing becomes more labored, though whether from confession or something else entirely remains unclear.
Meridith shakes her head. “Father, you have to tell me so I can help.”
49. Father Donovan clutches his chest, his breathing becoming increasingly shallow.
Meridith steps to him swiftly and places a hand on his back. “Spirits! Answer me! What is it you want! ” She has some medical training and makes an assessment on his status
“Justice… he must face justice for what he’s done…“
The temperature plummets further, and frost begins forming on the metal fixtures despite the July heat. Father Donovan’s condition worsens rapidly – his lips turning blue, his grip on the altar rail weakening. “Eileen…” he gasps, the name torn from his throat like a confession. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…“
The priest’s knees buckle, and he begins to collapse toward the altar steps. The voice speaks again, closer now, filled with decades of devotion turned to righteous anger: “Forty years I served this place… forty years, and he threw it all away for his sins.“
The clock reads 22:30, its hands moving with mechanical precision toward an inevitable moment.
Meridith exhales sharp, and turns her gaze towards the spirit. “Eileen. His death solves nothing. It isn’t justice, it’s an escape. Trust in me to see your justice done, tell me what has happened.”
“The package… it’s still at the post office… not too late…“
The clock hand moves to 22:31. Father Donovan’s eyes roll back, but instead of collapsing completely, he remains suspended in that moment of cardiac arrest, caught between life and death.
“Every night,” Eileen’s voice grows stronger, “I make him face his judgment. But death isn’t justice – it’s escape from consequence.“
Meridith demands, “Eileen! Tell me about this package!”
46 exactly. Father Donovan kneels at the altar in prayer, alive and unaware, his shoulders shaking with the same desperate pleading as before.
“The Claddagh Reliquary,” Eileen’s voice whispers from the shadows near the stairs. “Twelve centuries of protection for this neighborhood. He sold it to pay his gambling debts. The buyer hasn’t collected it yet – it’s waiting at the post office on Blackstone Street.“
The ghostly presence grows more visible – an elderly woman in a simple dress, her gray hair pinned back, a dark stain spreading across her temple where her head struck the cornerstone. “He pushed me down these very stairs when I threatened to expose him. Now he dies every night at the moment God’s judgment found him, but that’s not enough.“
Her translucent form gestures toward the altar. “Behind there, in the sealed storage room, you’ll find my body. In his office upstairs, the evidence of what he’s done. But the reliquary – that must be returned before the protection fails completely.“
The metallic scent fills the air again as the loop begins anew.
Meridith shakes her head. And growls. She steps through the space without hesitation, past to the sealed storage room, and uses her strength to make an entrance
“MISSING – investigate.” The final entry, written in an increasingly shaky hand, reads: “Confronted F.D. about missing reliquary. He’s been selling everything. Must contact Bishop immediately.“
Father Donovan’s prayers continue at the altar, oblivious to the discovery. The clock reads 21:49.
Meridith growls and stomps over to search for the body.
“July 8 – Saint Patrick’s chalice gone. July 15 – Medieval psalter missing from archives. July 22 – Claddagh Reliquary removed from Saint Brigid altar.“
The metallic scent grows stronger in the confined space, and Eileen’s spirit materializes beside her own corpse. “Now you see,” she whispers. “Three weeks I’ve been hidden here while he continues his charade of innocence.“
Meridith shakes her head. “Did he kill you…? Because you found out?” she wonders.
52.
“The reliquary was our last line of defense against what lurks in the western boundaries. Without it, All Saints is vulnerable. But if you can retrieve it, if you can ensure he faces justice in this world instead of just dying over and over…” Eileen’s form begins to fade slightly. “Then perhaps I can finally rest.“
Meridith sighs and waves a hand. “Post office, got it.” She growls and storms out of the storage facility, to hop on her motorcycle and race to the post office to find the reqliaury
15. Time is running short, and she’s still trapped in Eileen’s loop. The chapel feels impossibly far away, though it’s only blocks distant.
Meridith feels they need the reqliquary, on her way out she confronts the father. “I know what you’ve done! You bastard!”
25. Time is running out again.
“You must return the reliquary right this instant! And turn yourself in, or this torment will never cease!” Meridith insists
“The shipping receipt is in his office desk. Top drawer, locked. But hurry – you have only minutes before the loop resets.“
The clock reads 22:28.
Meridith sprints there, with incredible supernatural speed.
“Claddagh Reliquary – Package #4471 – Blackstone Post Office – Pickup scheduled July 30, 9:00 AM – Buyer: Marcus Thorne, Private Collector.“
The clock downstairs chimes 22:30. Father Donovan’s labored breathing echoes up from the chapel below, growing more desperate by the second.
Eileen’s voice whispers urgently: “The receipt is proof, but the reliquary itself must be returned to break the protection’s failure. One minute remains.“
Meridith growls. “You have to let me go if you wish for me to go and get it from the post office, Eileen!”
46, but now she carries the knowledge of three cycles. Father Donovan kneels at the altar, unaware of his repeated deaths.
Eileen’s spirit appears immediately, more solid than before. “You understand now. The loop will continue until justice is served – not just death, but accountability. The reliquary must be returned to restore the neighborhood’s protection, and he must face earthly consequences.“
The ghost’s form flickers with urgency. “I can extend this loop slightly, but not indefinitely. You have the receipt as evidence. The post office opens at 6 AM – but in the real world outside this chapel, it’s already July 30th. If you can convince him to confess and make amends, if you can ensure the reliquary will be retrieved, then I can release us both.“
Father Donovan’s prayers continue, oblivious to the supernatural tribunal surrounding him. The clock reads 21:46, but this time it feels different – like a door that might finally open.
“What will you do with this chance?” Eileen asks.
Meridith storms towards the father, and explains simply. “Father. I know what you have done. To Eileen. The relics sold. I know about Marcus Thorne. And I am here to force things right, as you should have done. Confess!”
15, but its hands have stopped their relentless march toward 22:31.
Meridith scowls. “Answer me!” She demands.
15, waiting for resolution.
Meridith scowls. “I know everything! And what is coming is far more dangerous than your debts, Father!”
15, as if time itself waits for justice to be served.
Meridith says “He’s got those cool pants that I love, and the pistol, oh what a gun, it’s Ambbbrose!“
Meridith says “…sorry “
Meridith scowls. And takes advantage of the timing to deliver the most cutting and concise argument to the Father.
Father Donovan’s face crumbles completely. “Yes,” he whispers, the word torn from his soul. “Yes, I’ll call the Bishop tonight. I’ll confess everything – the gambling, the thefts, Eileen’s death. I’ll make sure the reliquary is returned before it’s too late.“
He looks up at Meridith with haunted eyes. “But will God forgive me? Will she?“
Eileen’s spirit materializes fully, her form no longer flickering with rage but solid with purpose. “Forty years I served this place faithfully. That service meant something.” She looks at Father Donovan with stern compassion. “Justice isn’t just punishment – it’s making things right. Call the authorities. Return what was stolen. Face your consequences with the same courage you should have shown weeks ago.“
The oppressive weight in the chapel begins to lift. The clock’s hands resume their movement, but naturally now – no longer trapped in endless repetition.
“The loop is broken,” Eileen says, her form beginning to fade peacefully. “The neighborhood’s protection will be restored.“
Meridith bows her head to Eileen. “Rest, please. Noble spirits shouldn’t linger.”
16 – time flows forward naturally once more, carrying them all toward a future where justice and mercy can finally coexist.
Meridith embraces this brighter future openly.
16 – time enough for healing to begin, and for the living to learn from the wisdom of the faithful dead.
Meridith is just fine with that too.
The chapel settles into peaceful quiet as Father Donovan reaches for his phone with trembling hands. Outside, the mist that had clung to All Saints for weeks begins to dissipate, and the neighborhood’s protective wards – weakened but not broken – start to strengthen once more.
The Acadian Chapel stands as it always has, a sanctuary where justice and mercy meet, where the living and the dead can find their rest. The summer night air flows freely through the ancient stones, carrying away the last traces of supernatural tension and leaving only the gentle warmth of a community protected once again.
Meridith has helped break a cycle of vengeance and transformed it into something redemptive – ensuring that both earthly justice and spiritual peace could finally be served.
The temporal loop has been broken, Eileen O’Malley’s spirit has found peace, Father Donovan will face earthly consequences for his actions, and the Claddagh Reliquary will be returned to restore All Saints’ supernatural protections. The 45-minute nightmare that repeated endlessly has given way to a future where healing is possible.
Meridith considers this matter closed, and makes to depart
a car passing, someone’s television, the ordinary rhythms of a neighborhood at peace.
As Meridith steps outside, the chapel’s bells chime once – not marking the cursed hour of 22:31, but simply acknowledging the late evening. Behind her, warm light spills from the stained glass windows, and she can hear Father Donovan’s voice speaking quietly into his phone, beginning the difficult but necessary conversation with his Bishop.
The Acadian Chapel stands whole and sanctified once more, its guardian spirit finally at rest, its living shepherd ready to face his earthly judgment with courage.
The supernatural threat has been resolved through investigation, understanding, and justice rather than violence. The time loop is broken, the community’s protection restored, and both the living and the dead have found their peace.