Scary Stories For A Rainy Night - Ep. 148 - Blackrock

Summary

Podcast Summary: Scary Stories for a Rainy Night - Ep. 148 - Blackrock

Release Date: February 10, 2025
Host/Author: Being Scared
Podcast: Scary Stories and Rain

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Overview

In Episode 148 of Scary Stories and Rain, titled "Blackrock," listeners are taken on a harrowing journey into the dark and supernatural events surrounding Blackrock Chapel. The story intertwines chilling encounters, ancient curses, and a battle between faith and malevolent forces. Set against the backdrop of true scary stories accompanied by ambient rain sounds, this episode delves deep into themes of redemption, corruption, and the relentless pursuit of truth.

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1. The Confession Booth Encounter

The narrative begins with Father Carraway, an elder priest of Blackrock Chapel, engaging in a seemingly routine confession with a troubled youth, Father Edwards.

• Father Carraway (00:32): "There's no need to fear, my son."

Despite Father Carraway's reassurances, Father Edwards exhibits extreme skepticism toward the church's teachings, rejecting the possibility of salvation.

• Father Edwards (03:02): "I have done their bid, Father. I did their bid and I am debased."

As the confession progresses, Edwards declares his disillusionment and challenges the very foundation of the faith, hinting at dark prophecies and truths outside the church's doctrine.

• Father Edwards (04:33): "I no longer succumb to the lies of the church, for I have seen otherwise."

2. Night of Terror at Blackrock Chapel

After the unsettling confession, Father Carraway struggles to find peace, plagued by Father Edwards' ominous declarations. The following morning, Father Carraway experiences severe physical ailments, intensifying his distress.

• Father Carraway (07:52): "Father Caraway."

Father Edwards visits, revealing that others heard Father's ominous cries about "no salvation" during the night. This revelation marks the beginning of a terrifying sequence of supernatural events within the chapel.

3. The Bell Tower Horror

One night, Father Carraway is awakened by a young nun's frenzied screams, prompting him to investigate the bell tower. Inside, he discovers the corpse of a local tavern maiden, gruesomely hanged with the word "Frauchen" carved into her chest.

• Father Carraway (14:02): "Our Father. Hallowed be thy name. Our kingdom come."

This gruesome discovery deepens the mystery, suggesting that malevolent forces are at play within the chapel's sacred grounds.

4. Nightmares and Apparitions

Following the bell tower incident, Father Carraway experiences vivid nightmares in a subconscious void where he confronts the vengeful spirit of the murdered maiden. The apparition taunts him with visions of serpents and questions the very essence of salvation and forgiveness.

• Sister Meredith (21:50): "The entrance to heaven is closed. To us, as it always was."

These nightmares blur the lines between reality and the supernatural, leaving Father Carraway in a state of profound psychological torment.

5. Consulting Archbishop Marcus

Desperate for answers, Father Carraway seeks the counsel of Archbishop Marcus. The Archbishop reveals the dark history of Blackrock Chapel, originally built on land once inhabited by a gypsy coven. Years of mistrust and violent exorcism attempts against the gypsies have left a lingering curse known as "Degassi."

• Archbishop Marcus (44:26): "The ground upon which Blackrock Chapel stands wasn't always holy."

This exposition uncovers the root of the chapel's haunting, linking the current supernatural events to past atrocities and broken pacts.

6. The Final Confrontation

The climax unfolds during Wednesday Mass when the chapel becomes the epicenter of unholy activities. Father Carraway and Archbishop Marcus attempt to exorcise the evil presence using holy rites and frankincense. However, Father Edwards, now fully possessed by the curse, transforms into a monstrous entity composed of twisted faces and serpents.

• Archbishop Marcus (66:02): "You must burn."

In a desperate bid to save himself and the chapel, Father Carraway sacrifices himself by setting himself ablaze, purging the serpents and destroying the abomination. The act culminates in the complete destruction of Blackrock Chapel by fire.

7. Legacy and Urban Legend

Seven sunsets pass after the chapel's destruction, and whispers of the horrific events linger in Blackrock town. The story concludes with an eerie encounter at the local tavern, where a former priest, now a grotesque entity, continues to perpetrate the curse, suggesting that the horrors of Blackrock are far from over.

• Stranger (72:48): "Salvation is only the lie we spread, for all are condemned in the end."

This ending leaves listeners with a lingering sense of dread, emphasizing the enduring nature of the curse and the thin veil between faith and darkness.

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Notable Quotes

• Father Carraway (04:13): "They the true messengers of the truth. You see, Father, through them you may see the truth, their prophecy."

• Sister Meredith (22:22): "God forgives all who repent."

• Archbishop Marcus (52:34): "Degassi is the physical manifestation of mankind's condemnation itself."

• Father Carraway (64:34): "Then may we exorcise the evil from Christ's temple."

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Conclusion

"Blackrock" is a gripping tale that masterfully blends elements of horror with deep-seated themes of faith, guilt, and redemption. Through the tragic downfall of Father Edwards and the valiant yet fatal efforts of Father Carraway, the episode explores the catastrophic consequences of arrogance and the enduring impact of historical wrongdoings. The narrative serves as a stark reminder of the thin line between salvation and damnation, leaving listeners both unsettled and enthralled.

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For more chilling stories and ambient rain sounds, download the CHILLING app here.

Transcript

[Narrator]

Hey, welcome to Scary Stories and Rain. Before we begin, be sure to check out my brand new podcast, Scary Stories and Fire. If you would prefer the same great stories but with a super relaxing campfire background, the link is in the description. Also, if you haven't yet, I highly recommend you subscribe to this podcast. If you enjoy listening to Relax or Fall Asleep hundreds of hours of stories and rain for $2.99 a month. That will get you access to all episodes with zero ads. Consider subscribing and I hope you enjoy this episode.

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[Narrator]

The Blackrock Chapel Horror Part one It was at this moment when have you.

[Father Carraway]

Come to relieve your burden unto the Lord?

[Narrator]

Asked the elder priest from behind the blind of the confession booth. Silence hung to answer the offer. The elder priest, rather than immediately persist, decided to let him take his time. For in the last 17 and a half years he had been an elder priest of Blackrock Chapel. He had learned that they would feel the compulsion of conscious to confess their unrighteous deeds in the Lord's due time. The youth was shaking. His hands were firmly clasped around his upper arms, leading to his shoulders. As if shivering, the youth was hunching over, rocking back and forth in the wooden chair within the confession booth. His left eye twitched as his face remained chiseled in a state of petrified terror.

[Father Carraway]

There's no need to fear, my son.

[Narrator]

Whispered the elder priest, hearing the distress on the adolescent side of the booth.

[Father Carraway]

Christ bids forgiveness to all, all who trespass against Him. All he asks is for repentance of your sins and to seek reform from Him.

[Narrator]

The creaking of the youth's wooden chair began to die down. As yet, his breathing began to quiver in place of his body.

[Father Edwards]

Forgiveness.

[Narrator]

The boy whimpered softly, his voice continuing to tremble in a traumatized manner.

[Father Edwards]

No.

[Archbishop Marcus]

No.

[Father Edwards]

Forgiveness.

[Narrator]

Hearing the youth's remark, the elder priest repeated his assurance of the Lord's mercy to the no salvation, no Savior.

[Father Edwards]

I have done their bid, Father. I did their bid and I am debased.

[Narrator]

The elder priest, though unnerved by the youth's pessimism, remained composed.

[Father Carraway]

Come now, my son.

[Narrator]

God has promised salvation to all those who walk astray all you must do.

[Father Carraway]

Is to confess and repent of your sins. Worry not of the judgment of others, for the confidence of a priest is sacred.

[Narrator]

The youth offered a dry laugh in response before answering.

[Father Edwards]

I care nothing for the judgment of.

[Narrator]

Others, for they too are as devoid of any hope of salvation as I. The voice of the adolescent began to deepen to the pitch of a man twice his age, and began to take on an air of malign satisfaction at the statement's insinuation. Confused, the elder priest wanted to question the youth as to the meaning of his statement. More than anything, however, the elder priest was perplexed as to the boy's purpose for attendance of the confessional as a whole.

[Father Carraway]

Do you not, young man, accept the Lord into your heart? Are you not one of his children?

[Narrator]

The elder priest asked, unsure as to the state of the youth's soul. No. No, Father. I no longer succumb to the lies of the church, for I have seen otherwise. The youth's voice shook again, the tone growing even deeper and angrier in timbre. My eyes were opened to the truth. Long ago they showed me the truth.

[Father Carraway]

They?

[Narrator]

The elder priest questioned, curious as to exactly whom the implication belonged to. Yes, they the true messengers of the truth. You see, Father, through them you may see the truth, their prophecy. The elder priest became truly disturbed at hearing such blatantly sacrilegious claims. Remaining calm, he told the blaspheming young man that there existed no truth outside of the Lord. The young man let out a defiant and condescending laugh. Then you really are a blind old fool. You would, despite the offer of being shown the truth, choose to hold on to the lies of the so called holy Gospel. Realizing that the youth had no intention of repentance, the elder priest felt compelled to end the confessional. A light rapping on the outside of the booth found this silent request granted. Just before departing, the youth turned one more time toward the elder priest and with an abysmally baritone voice said, you'll see the truth, Father. I will show you their prophecy that there is no salvation. Another short succession of knocks prompted the youth to finally take his leave from the confession booth, allowing for the patron outside, an older maiden of 45 years, to enter.

[Father Carraway]

Have you come to relieve your burden unto the Lord?

[Narrator]

The elder priest asked the maiden, still feeling rattled.

[Father Edwards]

I. I have come to confess, Father.

[Narrator]

You see. The maiden began her confession, but the elder priest's mind had become far too entwined in the young man's morbid objection to lend her his attention.

[Father Edwards]

Oh, how can I be forgiven, Father.

[Narrator]

The maiden beckoned, arousing the elder priest from his anxious pondering to find her in tears at having concluded her confession. Though he had not heard her sins, he decided against attempting to ask her to repeat herself. Instead, he merely assured her that she was forgiven in the eyes of the Lord and requested no less than five Hail Marys before the day's end. Upon concluding the maiden's confessional, the elder priest retired to his bedchamber to attempt letting peaceful rest cleanse away anxiety. Slumber would be an uphill conflict for him that night, however, no matter his efforts, the elder priest's mind continued to be ravaged by the youth's words. You will see the truth. There is no salvation. When the sun rose the next morning, the elder priest found himself feeling weak. His head throbbed horribly and he felt trifle knots in his stomach. The elder priest winced in pain as he attempted to open his eyes, massaging his temples in a feeble attempt to ease a migraine's hold on him.

[Father Carraway]

Father Caraway.

[Narrator]

The elder priest broke from his stupor at the calling of his name.

[Father Carraway]

Father Carroway, is everything alright?

[Narrator]

Asked another of the chapel's elders, a balding man with only stubble for facial hair who stood a good two feet shorter than Father Carraway despite being five years his elder.

[Father Carraway]

Yes.

[Narrator]

Distantly, answered the bedridden elder priest, as if his response was voiced before his mind could comprehend his own train of thought. Regaining his proper composure despite the persistence of his current ailments, offered the most welcoming smile on his face he could manage before elaborating.

[Father Carraway]

Father Edwards, I didn't hear you come in. Yes, everything is fine. I just appear to be feeling a tad ill this morning. I trust it's nothing serious.

[Narrator]

Father Carraway attempted to offer a chuckle of ease to the fellow priest that devolved into a painful cough, prompting him to use the sleeve of his bedrobe to cover his mouth for a moment. His eyes widened in shock at the sight of a small black stain on the sleeve of his snow white bedrobe.

[Father Carraway]

Father?

[Narrator]

Asked Father Edwards, not in the momentary state of of anxious apprehension on the face of his peer. Yes, replied Father Carraway, seeing the skepticism on his visitor's face.

[Father Carraway]

I told you it's nothing serious. A minor ailment that I'm sure will pass by morning. Now, what brings you to my bedchamber, Father?

[Archbishop Marcus]

Myself and others heard you last night.

[Narrator]

You kept screaming no salvation.

[Father Carraway]

And we heard sounds of thrashing from.

[Narrator]

Down the chamber halls, replied Father Edwards, his voice composed of concern for the well being of his fellow priest, no salvation. The words slowly began to flood his mind once more, causing a sharp chill to crawl down his spine. Ignorant of the fellow elder priests claim, Father Carraway reassured his visitor that he was perfectly sound. His thoughts, however, began struggling once again to void themselves of the memories of the previous night's haunting confessional. Skeptical but overall satisfied as to the elder priest's condition, Father Edwards bade his farewell and exited the chamber bed. Father Carraway laid in his bed all through the morning and into the afternoon, the aches and pains becoming worse. A shrill scream finally roused the ailing Father Carraway from his bed. Though physically ill as well, the elder priest found himself able to bound out of his bed and sprint up the spiral stone stairs to the bell tower of the Blackrock Chapel with the speed and agility of a man much younger than he. When he reached the top of the stone stairs, he found a young maiden, one of the chapel's fledgling nuns, who had not yet sworn her oath of purity.

[Father Carraway]

What is it, dear sister?

[Narrator]

Father Carraway gently but firmly grasped the young maiden's shoulders.

[Father Edwards]

She. She. She.

[Narrator]

She stammered, utterly unable to voice a coherent reply.

[Father Carraway]

Ooh, child, what happened?

[Narrator]

But the young nun to be could only shake her head and continue wailing in response. Unable to voice a coherent response from the young sister, Father Carraway resolved to open the door behind her and enter the bell tower of the chapel and investigate the malignants himself.

[Father Edwards]

No, no, you mustn't go in there.

[Narrator]

The young sister shrieked, causing the elder priest's heart to skip a beat in his chest.

[Father Edwards]

Unclean, unclean.

[Narrator]

She said as she again buried her face into her palms.

[Father Carraway]

Calm down, Sister. I will see what is going on. I want you to stay here.

[Narrator]

The young sister just sat quivering, burying her petrified face into her palms. Father Carraway's hand trembled, trembled as he grasped the knob. Unclean, he wondered, as he willed himself to open the door. The foul odor of death assaulted his senses. Immediately upon the door's opening, the elder priest turned his face into the crook of his arm and began to cough, gagged by the offensive scent. With an alarming dread mounting within him as to what lies inside. Inside the bell tower, Father Carraway instructed the budding nun to summon help. She bowed her head to him and immediately sprinted down the stone stairs to the monastery to alert the other elders of Blackrock Chapel. The inside of the bell tower was dark, only illuminated by a single torch mounted to each of the four stone brick walls respectively. Paltry though the light was, the Faint glow of the torches still revealed the unholy display within its claustrophobic confines. Adjusting his eyesight to the faint glow of the inside of the bell tower, he saw the corpse of one of the maidens of the village, an Irish Maiden of 45, whom the father recognized as the tender of the nearby tavern, who had attended many confessions for her sins of lust. She was stripped bare and hanging from the tower's rafters by her neck, using the long thick hemp used to sound the sermon bell. On her breasts were carved a single word in her native Frautchen. The elder priest retched in disgust and horror at the abysmal display before him. With haste, he escaped the confines of the bell tower and slammed the door behind himself.

[Father Carraway]

Our Father.

[Narrator]

Father Carraway began with a shuddering breath, crossing himself as he spoke.

[Father Carraway]

Hallowed be thy name. Our kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Father Caraway.

[Narrator]

The sound of his name broke him of his petrified stupor.

[Father Carraway]

Father Carraway. Father Carraway, are you alright?

[Narrator]

It was Father Edwards. For a drawn out moment, Father Carraway had no words for his fellow priest, merely offering his current mortified stare as a response.

[Father Carraway]

Father Carraway, what in God's name happened?

[Narrator]

The urgency in Father Edward's voice was accentuated.

[Father Carraway]

She. She confessed to me.

[Narrator]

Tears began to streak Father Carraway's face as he pointed to the door that led into the peak of the bell tower. Determined to spy the source of the hysteria, Father Edwards moved past the scarred Father Carraway and opened the door.

[Father Carraway]

Christ above. Sister Meredith, alert the authorities.

[Narrator]

At once the fledgling nun stood, stood frozen with her jaw agape.

[Father Carraway]

Do as I say, Sister. Make haste.

[Narrator]

Barked Father Edwards. This snapped young Sister Meredith from her terrified trance and she ran down the stone steps, bolting through the chamber halls and exiting through the sanctuary.

[Father Carraway]

We must alert the Archbishop Marcus of this atrocity.

[Narrator]

Father Carroway beckoned. Father Edwards disagreed with with the conclusion, thinking it's wiser to handle the situation themselves.

[Father Carraway]

Are you a madman? This is an attack against the Church.

[Narrator]

Father Carraway's heart pounded in his chest with startling intensity, prompting him to clutch the left of his chest to try slowing the quakes of his heart.

[Father Carraway]

Easy now, Father. There's no need to make a larger problem of this than what is absolutely necessary. Necessary to explain.

[Narrator]

Father Carraway, confused and shocked at his fellow priest's hesitation at consulting the head of the Blackrock Chapel, decided to further press for an explanation.

[Father Carraway]

Please trust me, old friend. If we are to become bishops ourselves, we must prove that we can handle situations like this ourselves. There's no use in disturbing Archbishop Marcus when in all likelikely likelihood this is nothing more than the act of a disturbed minded individual who found convenience in the concealment of her body in the peak of the chapel's bell tower. A simple crime of passion. Grotesque, but simple nonetheless.

[Narrator]

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[Narrator]

Father Caraway nearly saw red.

[Father Carraway]

How can you say such things with such lax conviction? You, a priest, a servant of Christ, you expect me to just sit here while a credible threat to God's kingdom is swept idly under the rug?

[Narrator]

Before his dispute could escalate any further, the elder priest felt something move across his feet, perplexion overtaking his former frustration. He looked down to see a mass of inky black serpents surrounding his feet. Terror flooded through his entire body body as he saw the serpents converge on him from all directions.

[Father Carraway]

Father Carraway, are you alright?

[Narrator]

Asked Father Edwards. The elder priest only offered a weak gasp of horror in response as he saw the multitude of serpents spawning from the doorway leading into the bell tower peak.

[Father Carraway]

Father Carraway, what is it? S serpents.

[Narrator]

Father Carroway stuttered, unable to fully comprehend the events unfolding before him.

[Archbishop Marcus]

Serpents?

[Narrator]

Father Edwards questioned, eyeing the mortified priest with confusion.

[Father Carraway]

Can you not see them? They're everywhere.

[Narrator]

He stopped abruptly when he felt one of the serpents sink its fangs into his legs. No sooner than his eyes could widen in shock that the serpents supernaturally punched. Potent venom began to cripple the elder priest's senses. The hallway within Blackrock Chapel's peak began to spin. Dizzying. The Father Father Carraway clutched his forehead with his left hand, as if doing so might in some fashion stabilize the dizziness. His right hand desperately grasped the crucifix pendant that hung from his neck. His eyelids began to feel heavy and as vertigo began to transform into exhaustion. However, just before darkness would overtake him, Father Carroway could see all too clearly despite the venom's assault on his senses. Father Edwards extended his hand as the black serpents then began to slither to him, appearing to answer some malign summonses. The elder priest stumbled back in chilled fright as he witnessed them slither and seemingly begin to fuse into Father Edward's body as if the supposed fellow priest himself were composed of the demoniac serpents. The wriggling mass then appeared to revert back into the form of the priest as Father Carraway's legs began to lose the strength necessary for proper balance. His heart quaked in his fragile chest as with a meager composition he could manage in his damning plight. He staggered backward whilst the knuckles began to whiten on the hand that grasped the crucifix pendant.

[Father Carraway]

Our Father, thou art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.

[Narrator]

His labored breathed words were abruptly silenced as his feet had misstepped, sending him crashing down the stone steps. Unconsciousness finally met the elder priest when his head struck the wall midway down the spiral. The Blackrock chapel horror Part 2 Father.

[Sister Meredith]

Carraway wandered about in the ever extended void of the subconscious, unable to feel or perceive anything anymore. He wondered if he had indeed perished. Perished through either the means of the serpent's venom or the trauma of the crash down the spiraling stone stairs.

[Narrator]

Am I dead?

[Sister Meredith]

Father Carroway pondered as he continued to survey the void.

[Narrator]

Is this the entry to the Kingdom of Heaven?

[Sister Meredith]

Nay. A monotone voice called to him, answering the father's internal query.

[Narrator]

Caught by surprise.

[Sister Meredith]

Surprise, he spun around to face the speaker. To his horror, the priest stood face to face with the ginger haired Irish bar maiden whom he had seen hanging by the neck in the bell tower. She stood before him in the dark subconscious plane, completely bare, her milky white skin and grassy green hued irises projecting the visage of life. The the entrance to heaven is closed.

[Narrator]

To us, as it always was.

[Sister Meredith]

Father Carraway closed his eyes, trying vainly to assure himself that this wasn't real. This is real, Father. God's forgiveness. Father Carraway struggled to attempt rebuttal to the specter's abrasive claim as utter dread clouded his abilities of reason.

[Narrator]

God forgives all who repent.

[Sister Meredith]

The phantom let out a scoffing laugh that echoed throughout the void. The father felt compelled to cover his ears as the chuckling devolved into what he could only perceive as a cacophony of tortured whales that appeared to emanate from all directions in the encroaching purgatory. If that were true, Father, why not repent yourself for your continued heresies? The elder priest found himself confused at the ghost's insinuation. Amidst his immediate sense of shock and dread in the ghoulish ethereal plane he found himself within.

[Narrator]

What are you talking about? What falsehood have I spoken?

[Sister Meredith]

As soon as the defiant query left Father Carraway's lips, his blood chilled as two serpents begin to take form. Form in the dark void. His jaw went helplessly slack as the serpent's one, whose scales were as dark as the nightmare plane it birthed from the other, whose scales were the hue of burning embers reminiscent of the depths of Tartarus, slithered their way to the maiden's feet. As the malign creatures coiled themselves to her legs, the phantom spoke again, her vocals taking on a tormented ethereal echo. If God's forgiveness is divine, how are we so many that are condemned?

[Narrator]

Before any rebuttal could be offered, Father.

[Sister Meredith]

Carraway's tongue froze and his lips trembled as the depraved vipers journeyed their way up and around the maiden's nude form. His eyes widened at the unholy display enacted before him in petrified display belief as he began to witness the serpents start to violate her. The phantom maiden began to moan with unrighteous pleasure as the dark scaled serpent inserted itself head first in between her legs, the crimson serpent coiling around her torso and seeming to fondle her. The moans of sinful pleasure began to devolve into screams of damning agony as if emanating from the throats of many as the apparition appeared to hear her climactic release revolted as the elder priest was at the abhorrent nightmare, he felt as though the clutches of some manner of malign would force him to witness the events to their completion. Come now, Father. Why deprive yourself? I see the way you be watching. You'd like to fucking me, wouldn't you? Father Caraway, now bearing the strength of will over his body, clamped his eyelids tight and clutched his ears as the.

[Narrator]

Wrath like voice echoed through his head.

[Sister Meredith]

When he opened his eyes, now full with tears induced by the abysmal madness, he saw that the phantom maiden's appearance had decayed into the same necrotic image he had seen in the bell chamber at the peak of the Blackrock Chapel, complete with the word Frauchen carved into her bosom.

[Father Carraway]

God give me strength.

[Sister Meredith]

Father Carraway cried aloud, futilely attempting to free himself from the dread that crippled him. The ghost let out a devious cackle that echoed throughout the black void before, in the same voice she formerly bore in life, she lashed out, listen to ye, still thinking Christ cares for ye, poor little lamb, for ye truly have lost your way. Another ghastly wail of pleasure rang from the phantom maiden's lips as rivulets of dark warm blood ran down from her complexionless legs before crying out in the echoing and apparitional voice of agony, there is no no relief in heaven, no damnation in hell, no forgiveness. No damnation. The burning red serpent began to work its way from her mouth as the abomination's vocals became entirely inhuman altogether, his blood now frozen in mortal terror at his seemingly inescapable fate, at the hands of the malign entity before him, Father Caraway lifted a trembling hand hand to clutch the crucifix around his neck as he again attempted to choke out the Lord's Prayer. The elder priest was cut off before he could even finish the utterance of Hallowed be Thy name. When legions of painful screams and perpetual sorrow reached a deafening pitch that echoed from around him as well as within him. Forcing his eyes closed from strain and his hands to reflexively cover his ear.

[Narrator]

Years through his fright induced tears, the.

[Sister Meredith]

Elder priest opened his eyes to witness the torso of the unholy phantom begin wriggling as the bulges of the other human faces began to form themselves into her pale decayed flesh. When the writhing massive face took form within the phantom maiden's body, they cried out in unison, in wails so deafening.

[Narrator]

Father Carraway was forced to his knees.

[Sister Meredith]

Eyes clamped tight and his palms covering his ears. No salvation. The tortured, ethereal voices screamed out as.

[Narrator]

One only condemnation awaits us all, for all are debased.

[Sister Meredith]

The words echoed through the elder priest's shattered mind. No salvation. He tried to hide away the thought as to attempt to keep his psyche from complete collapse. With great strain, Father Carraway opened his eyes to a small squint, merely enough to perceive from a rudimentary level the mortifying sight of a multitude of serpents advancing upon him from all directions, just as they had in the bell chamber in the chapel's peak. Stripped of any will to mentally or physically Resist. Exist. Father Carraway watched helplessly as long writhing black and red serpents exited the mouths of the tormented, screaming faces that were conjoined to the abomination's body.

[Father Carraway]

Though I walk through the valley in the shadow of death, thy rod and thy staff.

[Sister Meredith]

He faintly whispered as he finally resigned himself to whatever damning fate that awaited him at the whims of the abhorrent phantom. Just before the darkness could overtake him, however, the elder priest found himself lying in cold sweat within his bedchamber. His eyes were stitched wide open. The first image he perceived was that of a young maiden still in a state of perpetual shock.

[Narrator]

Father Carraway stared at the maiden before.

[Sister Meredith]

Him, attempting to distinguish the presence before him now from that of the wraith that menaced him in his slumber. When his eyes studied the olive complexion.

[Narrator]

Of her skin, coupled with the long.

[Sister Meredith]

Brunette hair beneath her headrobe, he realized that the maiden standing before him now was none other than the young Sister Meredith. As his vision slowly strained itself into clear composition, he could see the young fledgling's eyes glistening with tears.

[Narrator]

Tears.

[Sister Meredith]

And her face was red.

[Father Edwards]

Oh Father, thank God you're awake. I thought you were lost forever.

[Sister Meredith]

Exclaimed Sister Meredith through tear filled relief.

[Narrator]

In an exhausted voice, Father Carraway questioned.

[Sister Meredith]

The young fledgling nun as to where he was and what had happened, for.

[Narrator]

In the current moment he could not.

[Sister Meredith]

Immediately recollect any of the previous phenomena.

[Narrator]

Outside of the demented nightmare he had only narrowly escaped from.

[Father Edwards]

It was awful. After I came back with the authorities for the woman we found in the bell tower.

[Narrator]

She took in a shuddering breath before.

[Sister Meredith]

Continuing, her voice cracking again with frightful tears.

[Father Edwards]

We found you sprawled unconscious on the stairs. You kept muttering the Lord's Prayer and something about serpents and poison. I looked everywhere but I couldn't find Father Edwards. The body was missing too. Me and a few of the other sisters moved you into your bed. You were out for most of the night and into this morning. I only awoke you when you began thrashing about.

[Narrator]

A tumultuous wave of dread washed over.

[Sister Meredith]

The elder priest's face as all at.

[Narrator]

Once the horrors of the previous afternoon came crashing back into his memory like a devastating avalanche.

[Father Edwards]

Oh, Father, I'm afraid.

[Narrator]

Cried the young Sister Meredith.

[Father Edwards]

Something unholy is happening in the chapel. What are we going to do?

[Narrator]

Father Caraway winced and drew a deep breath, once again grasping the right of his forehead and attempting to both ease.

[Sister Meredith]

The throbbing pulses inside as well as.

[Narrator]

Regain some semblance of composure to his abilities of reason. His head was drowning in a black whirlpool of insanity and cold, crippling, unforgiving dread. What am I going to do? The bitter question crossed Father Carraway's mind, followed by another far more disheartening query. What could I do? Father Carraway began hopelessly attempting to connect the ghoulish events, to possibly identify the source of the abominable phenomena, and with the aid of the divine combat, it Archbishop Marcus, Father Carraway whispered, unconsciously vocalizing his thoughts as his mind traveled back to the encounter in the chapel's peak.

[Father Edwards]

What was that, Father?

[Narrator]

Asked the fledgling nun, unsure yet hopeful that his response to her might be the foundation of a plan to either drive away or flee the evil that presently menaced them. Awakened from his thought induced trance by Sister Meredith's voice, Father Carraway began to rouse himself from his bed. Listen, child, he gestured to the young sister in an exhausted voice that bore the nature of a man far older than he. Fetch my priest's garb and my overcoat.

[Father Edwards]

Where are you going, Father?

[Narrator]

Pressed the young fledgling nun, unsure of the elder priest's intentions. There may be one that could provide us with aid, for he has dealt with many evil in his day. He'll know what to do now. Do as I say, child. Make haste. The young flesh fledgling Sister Meredith was slightly puzzled, but simply offered a small bow of her head before making her.

[Sister Meredith]

Way to the wardrobe.

[Narrator]

Father Carraway struggled as he slowly moved, his aching body still weak from the serpent's potent venom. When his legs finally found the strength to stand, he slowly trudged over to the vanity mirror that hung to the right of the entrance of the bedchamber. It was an average size mirror that was drawn, joined on either side by vanilla scented candles that would provide small tastes of added luminescence to the entirety of the bedchamber. Above the vanity mirror hung a shining silver crucifix bearing a molded image of Christ's executed body fixed upon it. Gazing at his image in the aged mirror, Father Carraway felt a sense of nausea creep upon him. Where in reality he had lived only 45 years, the face that returned his gaze from the mirror had the appearance of one who had lived closer to 30 years longer. The reflection in the mirror bore thin silver strands of hair, unlike the thick, vibrant brunette hair he bore outside of the mirror. The skin on the doppelganger's face also appeared haunted and concaved, as though the flesh it bore was too excessive for its bones. The wearied elder priest became unnerved at the sight, tugging at the skin on his face to reassure himself through a tactile perception that the image in the mirror was indeed some manner of visual hallucination. It was then that the reflection began to shift within the mirror's confines.

[Sister Meredith]

The face posed itself as the elder.

[Narrator]

Priest began to offer a more sinister grin. While the rest of the room swept surrounding the being began to take on a scarlet red filter. For a moment, his blood chilled at the sight of his reflection acting outside of his own will. Placing his palms over his eyes, he softly whispered to himself, no, it's not real.

[Archbishop Marcus]

God be with me, old fool.

[Narrator]

Father. Father Carraway looked once again at the doppelganger from his palms and saw the sinister reflection of himself begin to decay, the loose skin hanging onto his skull now falling away to expose the skeleton underneath. God cannot save us, lashed the vision in the mirror.

[Sister Meredith]

His jaw fell as he watched the.

[Narrator]

Image in the mirror slowly continue to devolve into a more grotesque appearance. Appearance. More of the false reflection's flesh slowly.

[Sister Meredith]

Decayed and peeled away as if it.

[Narrator]

Were mere paper to reveal the skull bearing jagged teeth that could rip and crush flesh and bone alike with ease, without worry of dulling. The sockets of the demon were dark and cavernous voids that swallowed all semblance of light, save only for a tiny crimson speck in the middle of either socket, respectively, that appeared to serve as its retinas. Let me ask you something, Father, chided the beast in the mirror, voicing the elder priest's title in a tone of mocking reverence. Father Carraway covered his ears to attempt to resist the abomination's lying tongue. Why did your so called loving father in heaven execute his own son? Father Caraway screamed in his head at the abhorrent creature to silence its blasphemies, to no avail. Christ himself was no more than a holy bastard. The words crashed as boulders in an avalanche in Father Caraway's head, motivating him to press his palms tighter to his ears and tightly closing his eyes. His execution achieved, achieved nothing more than penance for his birth. As such, the last exclamation rang out in his mind with such ferocity that he could feel his knees attempting to buckle beneath him as he were being weighed down by an unseen force. You know it's true, Father.

[Archbishop Marcus]

Just look at me.

[Narrator]

I am humankind in its purest state. We are. Are the condemned humankind itself, Father, are the very beasts that were sentenced to damnation. Salvation is only the lie you spread. Nearing his wit's end, Father Carraway slammed his fists upon the surface of the vanity and shouted defiantly at the apparition. Enough. The mounted crucifix, shaken from the tremor, fell from its place above the mirror and landed onto the vanity surface in front of him. Hearing the faint clatter of the crucifix's descent, the elder priest found himself awakened from another trance. He saw that instead of the detestable specter that occupied its confines only moments before his reflection revealed the middle aged man that existed in reality. Father Carraway again closed his eyes and began drawing in deep breaths to relax once again. Upon opening his eyes, he decided to refix the fallen symbol back to its original perchance above the vanity mirror. As he held it, however, a searing pain shot through the palm of his hand that caused him to drop it again, letting out a cry of pain. Tightly gripping his right hand with his left reflex, he gazed once again down at the image of Christ's sacrifice as it began to glow a hot, burning orange. The oppressive door of brimstone permeated the air within the bedchamber as the elder priest saw in revitalized terror, small streams of blood began to ooze from the wrists, feet, and head of the mold of Christ.

[Father Edwards]

Are you alright, Father?

[Narrator]

Father Caraway spun around and was met with the slightly relieving sight of the young fledgling nun, priest garb and overcoat in hand.

[Father Edwards]

I heard shouting. Did something happen?

[Narrator]

No, child, replied the priest, unsure how to explain the unholy phenomena that occurred in her absence. Everything is fine, but there's no more time to lose. Come now. You will accompany me to the Archbishop's home. He may be the only one who could help us. The Blackrock Chapel Horror Part three With haste, the pair quietly exited the sanctuary and walked through the town that saw its citizens begin making their way to Blackrock Chapel. Wednesday Mass, Father Carraway muttered silently, chastising himself for the lapse in memory.

[Father Edwards]

What is it, Father?

[Narrator]

Queried the young nun, citing the expression of anxiety on the elder priest's face. Father Carraway, still bearing a worried face, shook his head and blankly reassured her that all that was important was that they sought the Archbishop as swift as possible. Within the span of another 5 minutes of walking, they arrived upon a small cottage built from stone and mortar. Fixed upon the front of the wooden door was a silver crucifix that hung by a string of rosary beads dangling from an outwardly protruding nail above the decoration were inscribed three words in in nomine Patris in bright red. Is this the Archbishop's home? Asked Sister Meredith. Indeed, replied Father Carraway. He spotted an air of curious skepticism mold itself on the young fledgling nun's face. Archbishop Marcus always preferred modesty, Father Carroway told her, as he had already anticipated her question. As he reached to wring the worn down yet yet functional bell that was fashioned to the right of the door, the priest briefly recollected a few of his memories of his years under Archbishop Marcus's apprenticeship. He gave the small, frail string that hung the bell two light tugs, hearing the six high pitched rings of its frail clapper impacting against its interior. In the mere span of a minute after the bell rang its last, the wooden door began to jolt ajar.

[Archbishop Marcus]

Who seeks my home?

[Narrator]

A voice called out from the inside of the cottage. The voice was that of a man far older than Father Carraway. We are seeking counsel and aid against a grave and unknown evil that has plagued God's kingdom of Blackrock Chapel. Father Carraway couldn't help but emphasize the urgency of his request for an audience. The entrance of the cottage was revealed as the wooden door was opened Fully standing in the doorway was an elderly man clad in a soft velvet robe with a white cross stitched to the left. Despite his aged appearance, the man stood a solid 6ft in height, even dwarfing Father Carraway's mere 5ft 6 inches. The man's head bore a clean shave, bearing only an Albin Rhino mustache and beard that reached down to his collarbone. For a solid moment that felt too stretched. The man in the doorway examined them, evaluating the sincerity and the spoken urgency.

[Archbishop Marcus]

Well then, you'd best come inside, said.

[Narrator]

The man in the doorway, finally breaking the ever straining silence and gesturing for them to enter. The pair entered and the older gentleman prayed promptly closed the door behind them. Inside the cottage, the young Sister Meredith felt a sense of warm comfort. The walls held different varieties of oils and myrrh. Large, thick leather bound volumes were neatly lined atop a shelf perched above the fireplace that housed a ferocious blaze within. Father Carraway became once again lost in his memories of the past.

[Archbishop Marcus]

So tell me, what is this vile menace, you beseech my aid for?

[Narrator]

The question broke the priest from his memories. Wasting not an instant, Father Carraway began regaling the Archbishop of the hauntings of the prior days. As he continued his dreadful account of the horrors that occurred in Blackrock Chapel, the priest saw the face of the Archbishop become grim, somber, as if he bore some grave piece of the macabre enigma. The other didn't. When Father Carroway was finished describing their peril, a long and unsettling silence hung in the air of the cottage.

[Archbishop Marcus]

The ground upon which Blackrock Chapel stands wasn't always holy.

[Narrator]

Archbishop Marcus voice evoked the same forbidding feeling of sorrow and regret that remained reflected on his aged face. The priest himself was hesitant to press the archbishop for a further explanation, as if the hidden revelation could scar him further than what his psyche could recover.

[Archbishop Marcus]

You made mention of one Father Edwards, the priest bearing the serpents. Yes.

[Narrator]

Father Carroway nodded in response and offered a y yes, Excellency, nervously stumbling over his own words.

[Archbishop Marcus]

I might have known this day would come again. As you no doubt have realized, this Father Edwards is no priest, nor is he a man, at least not any longer.

[Narrator]

As fear's chilling grasp began to slowly take a hold of him once more, the burning question that had been suppressed by hesitation before now embedded itself into the forefront of Father Carraway's mind and erupted from his lips. What do you mean, your Excellency? His heart hanging in a heavy pendulum of sorrowful regret and worry, Archbishop Marcus began to enlighten the pair of the unfortunate tragedy that molded the infancy era of Blackrock Chapel.

[Archbishop Marcus]

Before the land that the chapel's foundation rests upon was first consecrated as hollowed soil, it had served as a sanctuary for a coven of gypsy folk. When I first came upon the land, I was as you were when I tutored you. I was a pupil under the protection of my predecessor, Archbishop Duncan. It was my first journey abroad for the spread of the gospel.

[Narrator]

For a brief moment, Father Carraway's mind with quick accuracy recollected small fragments of his own initial journey abroad before he was commissioned to the status of priest. His recollection of prior ages halted when the Archbishop's voice began again.

[Archbishop Marcus]

When we arrived, it was a mere dark entire patch of earth that appeared to bear sparse, if any, vegetation. In its center, a massive, dark stone boulder sat in perchance. I remember that engraved on its outwardmost surface was the image of some manner of talisman with two words in the dialect of the gypsies terra condemntillor.

[Narrator]

The Archbishop's face darkened, the aged features of his face beginning to pronounce themselves by shadow.

[Archbishop Marcus]

Only long after the grave events that occurred there did I ever learn what those two words meant. For in our tongue these words translate as land of the condemned.

[Narrator]

The dread incubating within Father Carraway tightened its firm grasp on his mind.

[Archbishop Marcus]

We wished at first to establish commerce with them. We thought that through fellowship we may convert some of them to the Lord's gospel.

[Narrator]

Archbishop Marcus eyes fell to the ground in a frightened stoic gaze as a chilled shudder escaped him.

[Archbishop Marcus]

We were wrong.

[Narrator]

His voice was devoid of any emotion, save for petrified trauma. Stares still fixed to the ground beneath the Archbishop continued in a gravely voice.

[Archbishop Marcus]

Two years passed in harmony until strange occurrences began.

[Narrator]

Morbid curiosity overcame Father Carraway, and he asked Archbishop Marcus as to the implications of the occurrences he referred to.

[Archbishop Marcus]

At first we simply brushed them off a minute phenomena, events that we wouldn't try to bear real significance to as they occurred few and far between. With the progression of time, however, the phenomenon became more recurrent and amplified in its malignancy. The other priests in our congregation awoke every night in terror and foretelling of unrighteous envisionings plaguing their sleep. Storms began to grow fierce and unwavering night and day. It was one dusk, however, when our paranoia reached an apex and our goal of peaceful fellowship was abandoned.

[Narrator]

The cracks of the flames dancing upon the oak kindling inside the fireplace arrested the mournful stare of the Archbishop.

[Archbishop Marcus]

Voices. It began with the voices that came to me, whispering all manner of unrighteous blasphemies to me. Night upon night, the ghastly voices beckoned to me, tempting me to partake of.

[Narrator]

The ungodly acts they would describe to.

[Archbishop Marcus]

Me, though the grace and strength of the Lord willed me to resist them. I began to grow weary, worried, and I recounted my experiences to another apprentice under the former Archbishop's study.

[Narrator]

The Archbishop met gaze once again with.

[Archbishop Marcus]

The priest, the man you named as Father Edwards.

[Narrator]

Father Carraway stared in confusion at what he was told. Just before he could question to himself the plausibility of what Archbishop Marcus implication was, a morbid realization sent a thunderbolt that shook his mind to its innermost foundation.

[Archbishop Marcus]

Not a man. Not any longer.

[Narrator]

The words pierced him like a finely sharpened dagger as he began to slowly piece together the connection between the malign hauntings that menaced him in the previous days within the chapel's walls and those recounted from the Archbishop's macabre anecdote. Noting the clarity unmolding itself to the priest's face, Archbishop Marcus continued.

[Archbishop Marcus]

He suspected immediately that the machinations of the gypsies were at fault. He was certain that their foreign customs had in some form wrought evil forces against us. Over time, paranoia became disdain and mistrust a until one grave twilight, the night that blind fear drove us to violence. I'll never forget their faces as we came upon them, wielding the instruments that raised their livelihood to ash. Their homes, their shops, everything was set ablaze by the hands of our convent.

[Narrator]

The Archbishop's mouth split into into a morbid, dead smile wholly devoid of any authentic joy.

[Archbishop Marcus]

Edwards told me what we were doing was an exorcism of the land, that our actions were in righteous merit of the Lord's service.

[Narrator]

A small tear escaped his lifeless eyes and ran down his cheeks. Father Carraway's blood began losing its warmth as he was witnessing the collapse of his former mentor's psyche.

[Archbishop Marcus]

They fled the land that night, but not before letting slip an omen. May you all be spared of Degasi.

[Narrator]

As if the mention of the word carried a supernatural force of its own, the fireplace exploded outward, the flames danced upon the oak, and kindling shifted erratically.

[Archbishop Marcus]

If I could have known of the unholy evils we wrought upon ourselves.

[Narrator]

Archbishop Marcus lips quivered as he continued.

[Archbishop Marcus]

We thought that by ridding the land of the Gypsy heretics from the soil that the evil would flee with them. What we were too blinded by arrogance to see at the time was that the ones we were swift drive away were the same whose practices acted not as a weapon against us, but to spare us from something far worse.

[Narrator]

De Gassi? Father Carraway asked, more from his instinct than genuine curiosity. A sullen nod of the Archbishop's head, coupled with his chiseled expression of recriminatory despair, served to reply to the question.

[Archbishop Marcus]

Like with what was inscribed upon the stone. I learned only long after what Degassi was.

[Narrator]

What is it, Excellency? Is it the name of a demon? Father Carraway asked, attempting to recollect the multitude of malign spirits dwelling from the lake of fire that were cataloged in Le Dictionnaire Infernal, a volume he was required to devote hours of study to in his apprenticeship under Archbishop Marcus to find one by the name of Degassi. Archbishop Marcus arose from his seated position and went to his bookshelf and pulled out a volume dressed in dirt and dust, adorned by cobwebs.

[Archbishop Marcus]

Father, you misunderstood.

[Narrator]

De Gassy is no dark demon blowing away the concealment provided by the dust on the COVID The volume's cover was revealed to be faded yet polished brown hue, leather bound and bearing no title on the front. The Archbishop fixed himself with his reading lenses and opened the worn volume halfway, and began turning further pages until he found the specific page bearing the heading of Blestimul lu Degassi. Father Carraway gazed intently at the fading page before him, unsure exactly of what to make of the foreign runes scribbled upon the page. Archbishop Marcus placed his index finger upon the passage in question, directing Father Carraway's.

[Archbishop Marcus]

Gaze when they fled the coven of gypsies left behind this book.

[Narrator]

Archbishop Marcus read the passage that that detailed the blastimo lu Degassi, the curse of the debased in their tongue. Father Carraway's blood chilled, draining his pale skin as he listened to the Archbishop tell of Degassi being the physical manifestation of mankind's condemnation itself. The memories of the chapel's phenomena abrasively invaded his mind, once again pronouncing him emphatically the gratuitous blasphemies the wraiths assaulted him with. The Archbishop further explained that those that fall victim to De Gassi do so when they call out to them, seducing them to either embrace whatever sins they had committed that drew the attention of them, or by stripping them of all hope of salvation until their demise, wherein they are to join the ranks of the condemned. As Archbishop Marcus continued reading, the elder priest glanced at the page when he felt his skin begin to crawl at the sight of the illustration on the page's bottom right corner. The illustration depicted the scene of a man that was brought to his knees and clutching his forehead as long black serpents appeared to swarm over his body. The face of the man was craned back to face faced the sky above, and it was twisted into an expression of perpetual agony. The detail of the image that disturbed Father Carraway, however, was a large dark monolithic stone stood erect and protruding from the black stone that looked like a cyclonic whirlwind, formed from many faces that appeared conjoined, all of them twisted in the same expression of abject horror and sorrow. Spotting this, Father Carraway felt a dreg of nausea grasp firmly to him as the recollection of his nightmare forced itself abrasively into the forefront of his thoughts. How has it been taking the form of Father Edwards? Father Carraway asked, using the question to void the malignant event from his mind. The Archbishop fell silent once again, his aged face giving away to its earlier state of mournful despair as written in the book here, Archbishop Marcus began as he placed his index finger upon the excerpting passage that he meant to reference his vocals. Low and forlorn, Degassi can assume the avatar of any that are of them to walk the earth above. The chilling words returned to Father Carraway.

[Archbishop Marcus]

Not a man, not any longer.

[Narrator]

Utter despair consuming him, Father Carraway gave in to the compulsion to question Archbishop Marcus of how Father Edwards, a servant of the Lord, could have been met with such a fate.

[Archbishop Marcus]

We were all lost to righteous arrogance, replied Archbishop Marcus.

[Narrator]

But Excellency. The priest cried out, interrupting the Archbishop's reply. How could that alone condemn a servant of Christ?

[Archbishop Marcus]

His pride affected their attention to him, but it was what he did next that allowed them to consume him.

[Narrator]

Tears began to run freely down Archbishop Marcus, his cheeks. With a heavy, shuddering breath, the somber Archbishop recollected the event that wrought damnation upon the arrogant priest that Father Carraway once thought of as a brother in faith.

[Archbishop Marcus]

The night of the raid, I found him wielding one of the gypsy's own blades against one of the maidens of the coven. She begged for her life in her people's tongue, but his murderous judgment was unbound. I called to him, told him to hold his hand.

[Narrator]

The Archbishop froze. His stare became distant as a frightened recollection of the gypsy maiden's screams and the sickening squelch of flesh being penetrated molded vividly in his mind. A deadly silence hung within the cottage, contested only by the cracks of the kindling beneath the flames that only ever lightly increased in volume. Father Carraway felt himself in a state of fruitless denial at what he was just told, that a fellow servant of the cross was a murderer and had committed himself to the whims of an unspeakable evil that even now wears his face. It was then that a horrific realization revealed its itself to him that almost caused him to faint.

[Father Edwards]

Who else but Father Edwards could have called the mass for sermon tonight? Can it be stopped?

[Narrator]

Sister Meredith asked with a shaking tone of panic seeping into her voice. The young fledgling nun's voice caused the two men to glance at her with mild surprise, as until that instant, her silence had caused them to forget her presence entirely. Before a reply could be offered, a mass of shrill screams in the distance arrested their attention. The three listened to the sound of many clamoring, stampeding footsteps, accompanied by a collective cacophony of frightened screams. Father Carraway opened the front door of the cottage to reveal that the source of the sounds were of the townsfolk who had gathered for Mass before now fleeing Blackrock Chapel for their very lives. The full magnitude of the mortifying display caused the priest to fall to his knees in a trance of terror induced shock.

[Father Edwards]

Father Carraway. Father Carroway.

[Narrator]

Exclaimed Sister Meredith as she rushed to him with urgency. Archbishop Marcus exited the cottage into the midst of the chaos.

[Archbishop Marcus]

What's going on?

[Narrator]

The Archbishop demanded to a fleeing youth. Farmhand.

[Father Edwards]

M Monster in the sanctuary.

[Narrator]

Cried the farmhand before pushing past the Archbishop. Once his stance was regained, Father Carraway waded through the crowd of fleeing congregation until he found Archbishop Marcus once again.

[Archbishop Marcus]

It's d'g. It must be. Tonight was Wednesday Mass. It was a trap.

[Narrator]

The priest exclaimed with staggering breath. With a cold, icy, and stoic glare carved into his aged face, he turned to Father Carroway and said, we must.

[Archbishop Marcus]

Destroy the evil of Blackrock.

[Narrator]

How? Father Carroway asked, remembering his own encounters with the frightening entity and the lack of effect his holy subjects had had with warding them away. In a grave tone, Archbishop Marcus answered, by fire.

[Archbishop Marcus]

This evil was born through fire, so too shall it die.

[Narrator]

The two continued pushing through the terrified crowd, climbing up the steps and thrusting the chapel's entrance open. The Blackrock chapel horror part 4 inside the hallway to the sanctuary, the clutter of overturned mahogany and discarded crucifix trinkets littered the long, crimson hued carpet that lined the main hall. The sight that disturbed the two clergymen was most about the chaos. Displayed before them, however, were the empty garments that lay discarded, as if those that formerly bore them had simply vanished. The elder priest froze, the blood flowing through his veins chilled as he witnessed the forms of long, thin serpents extrude their scaly forms from the empty garments.

[Father Carraway]

Come now, there's no time to lose.

[Narrator]

The Archbishop shouted as he went to retrieve the frankincense from the drawer that kept the oils and wine regularly used for the occasion of communion. As he retrieved the oil and dismounted two of the candlesticks, Father Carraway remained in place, the malign phenomena burrowing back into his recollections. Feeling incapable of acknowledging his partner's voice, the elder priest felt the taunts uttered by the wraiths sink slowly and painfully into his heart. If God's forgiveness is divine, how are we so many that are condemned? No relief in heaven. No damnation in hell. No forgiveness. Salvation is only the lie you spread. They have shown me the truth, Father. There is no salvation. Those last two words, the two words that have haunted him for three, three days and nights, began to repeat as though they were some manner of a demented mantra, screaming inside his mind like a chorus of shrieking maidens in great pain. Father Carraway's trance was broken when he felt an object pushed into his chest.

[Father Carraway]

Father, are you ready to begin?

[Narrator]

Archbishop Marcus asked, pushing one of the candlesticks into the center of Father Caraway's chest. Clarity. Resuming control of his thoughts, the priest replied with a slightly hesitant breath, yes, I'm ready.

[Father Carraway]

Then may we exorcise the evil from Christ's temple?

[Narrator]

Archbishop Marcus declared with the blaze of determination raging in his eyes as they set about dousing the main hall in the frankincense. Crossing each stream, they cast a upon the surroundings. They each began to recite innomine Patris et Fili et Spiritis Sancti. Amen. Until Archbishop Marcus let out a sharp cry of pain that abruptly ended his chanting. Startled, Father Carraway snapped his head in the Archbishop's direction. His jaw slacked numbly as he spotted five of the abhorrent serpents with their fangs fixed fixed firmly within his former mentor's thighs. Archbishop Marcus eyes were fastened tight, his jaw agape as his face portrayed the sheer unutterable pain that coursed within him. At that moment, Father Carraway began to rush to the Archbishop's aid, shock and panic molding into one as he saw his ally forced to his knees in agony.

[Father Carraway]

No.

[Narrator]

Archbishop Marcus screamed out with a strained cry.

[Father Carraway]

Stay away.

[Narrator]

The elder priest halted despite the fright induced adrenaline urging him further. His strength waning, the Archbishop summoned the last of his will to let out a strained cry to Father Carraway.

[Father Carraway]

It's too late. I'm theirs now. I laugh allowed this evil to birth. Now you must destroy it.

[Narrator]

Another tortured wail escaped Archbishop Marcus mouth as the serpents swarmed him, biting and coiling themselves up and around his body and into his gaping mouth. As they burrowed into his throat, he began to let out a series of choking gasps. Before the serpents could overtake him, however, Archbishop Marcus sputtered one last command to the petrified priest.

[Archbishop Marcus]

You must burn.

[Sister Meredith]

Burn.

[Narrator]

Black Rock Chapel his eyes rolled back as the breath of life left him falling on his back. Father Carraway's lips legs felt weak as he watched helplessly as the body of Archbishop Marcus became but a mere squirming mass of dark and crimson. The serpents then dispersed from where the Archbishop's body lay. Only the empty velvet robe remained and scurried away collectively as though they were answering some summonses. His gaze following their flight, Father Carraway saw them slithering back into the sanctuary, giving pursuit. Father Carraway's eyes met with the embodiment of the horror that tormented the once hallowed ground he stood upon. The abomination stood at the pulpit, arms outstretched, as if exerting the very force that beckoned the serpents to it. The head of the abysmal creature was the likeness of the man Father Carraway formally knew as Father Edwards. The rest of the beast's form, however, consisted of little more than a writhing mass of faces that appeared twisted in the same expression of unbridled suffering. Father Carroway stood at the entrance of the sanctuary, pale, struggling to comprehend the full extent of the unholy terror displayed before him. As the multitude of serpents burrowed themselves in the many dark, cavernous mouths of the agonized faces that comprised the abomination's form, the tortured faces began to undulate more rapidly, as if attempting to breach through the flesh, confining them until a new addition began to mold itself into the center of the abomination's chest region. In anguish, Father Carraway cried out no. When he witnessed the agonized faces of his former mentor take form in the monstrosity's flesh. As he fell to his knees, stripped of his will, he felt as though he were once again in the nightmare, now with no relief of waking from it. Now you see the truth, brother. Even the pious cannot be forgiven. The voice, though uttered singly by the false likeness of Father Edwards, bore an ethereal quote quality to it that wholly devoid its resemblance to that of a human. Haunting familiarity struck the priest's ears when the voice of a young man, though still inhuman, chided to him. The truth stands before you. No salvation. He realized this to be the distorted vocals of the young adolescent from the confessional. The eyes of the false world priest's likeness rolled back unnaturally into the skull and distended, its jaws regurgitating a large, squirming legion of black serpents. They slithered in haste to claim the elder priest. Father Carraway, witnessing this physical incarnation of horror, almost resigned himself to his fate when he remembered the candlestick, he still wielded the fragment. Frankincense. He nearly shouted aloud, holding his tongue, however, to not reveal his plan to the monster. With renewed hope, Father Carroway found himself at his feet. Out of the dark orifices of the mass of twisted faces, more dark serpents came forth, running to the empty velvet robe. Father Carroway retrieved the half empty jar of the holy oil and proceedings proceeded to douse the sanctuary. Triumphantly, he raised the candle aloft, ready to set the room ablaze, when a succession of sharp pains shot through his left leg. He looked down to see that a serpent had fixed its fangs within him. Within less than seconds, Father Carraway once again felt the venom's crippling effects begin to claim him. His head throbbed and his vision began to to fail him. Nausea finally stripping his legs of his ability to stand, forcing him to collapse as the serpents began to overtake him, Father Carraway, with the last of his strength, raised the jar of frankincense and doused himself In a weakened breath. The elder priest uttered, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of.

[Father Carraway]

Death, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. I will fear no.

[Narrator]

His defiant speech was cut short as two of the serpents forced themselves into his throat. Just before the serpents would take him, Father Carraway thrusted the candle's flame upon himself, setting himself and the serpents ablaze. The scorched serpents hissed as they fled hastily from the elder priest's burning body. Body. In their panic, the burning serpents slithered to the spaces, dredged in the frankincense, igniting them. Within mere minutes, the entirety of the sanctuary was an inferno. The agonized faces fixed within the abomination's flesh began to shriek in a uniformed cacophony of pain as the searing grasp of the flames came upon them. As the abominations flesh charred, the massive faces began to protrude further from the form until breaking free of the flesh that held them bound, sending forth a cyclone of wailing apparitions that swarmed the burning sanctuary all through the night. The flames gutted Blackrock Chapel. When the sun rose, nothing was left but hot, smoldering wood rubble. Seven sunsets passed, with many of the folk attempting to speculate and ponder what had happened that night. I heard some bloody priest went mad.

[Father Edwards]

Set the whole damn chapel on fire, himself included.

[Narrator]

Exclaimed a young man to the bartender. Oui, the bartender retorted with a hearty laugh. Scoff all you want. I know what I heard. I know the truth. Do you know? Uttered the patron seated upon the neighboring barstool. The young lad was taken aback by the somewhat abrupt and unexpected question by his mute neighbor. Well, sure, the young man finally replied with an uneasy chuckle. The stranger looked at the lad, locking the nervous eyes with his own cold gaze. The young lad saw that despite appearing twice his own age, full dark brunette hair and a young youthful face, the stranger also appeared, clad in a dark robe similar to what the young lad had seen worn by preachers. Say, you wouldn't happen to be a priest, would you? The stranger's mouth parted upward on the left corner in dry amusement. Amusement I was once, he said in the same dry tone, nearly devoid of emotion. But then I learned the truth. The young lad, suspecting some manner of a bluff, challenged him that right now. What would that be, holy man? Still bearing the same devious grin, the supposed former priest told the young man to follow him behind the tavern if he wished to be bestowed with the truth he offered, the young man obliged and followed as a pig to slaughter. Within seconds, the lad's confident arrogance was replaced with sheer terror as the stranger opened his robe to reveal a writhing mass of tortured faces, of pain branded into his flesh. Like you, the stranger began, I was too arrogant to accept the truth. But I know now, it's as they told me. Salvation is only the lie we spread, for all are condemned in the end. The former priest displayed a menacingly joyous smile as a horde of black and crimson scaled serpents silenced the young lad's scream.

[Father Carraway]

It's.