Clairvoyant Protector on RolePlayer.me - www.roleplayer.me/clairvoyantprotector Clairvoyant Protector
“Free will” is one of the most precious gifts we have.

Female
92 years old
Monroe, Connecticut
United States

Last Login:
August 20 2019

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An Angel At the tender age of eight, she greatly disliked hospitals. Hospitals meant that people were sick or hurt and suffering and she hated to see people in any kind of pain. But, her mother was here and so she spent as much time as she could right by her side, worried despite assurances from both her mother and her doctor that she was going to be fine in a few days.

Sitting next to the bed, holding her mother’s hand in hers, she glanced at the next bed over. There were only two patients in this room, but the other was a boy her own age. His name was Billy. She hadn’t tried to talk to him because he didn’t seem to be able to do so. Even when he was awake he didn’t seem awake. The doctors were in to see him several times a day and he was hooked up to a lot of machines. She had asked what was wrong with him, but only been told that he was ‘very sick.’ It made her heart hurt. It made her sad. It made her want to help. It made her feel helpless because there was really nothing she could do.

This time when she glanced over, there was someone or…something sitting in the chair beside his bed, holding his hand as she held her mother’s. The figure was glowing brightly and as soon as she laid eyes on it, she instantly felt lighter, warmer, peaceful. And when the figure smiled…she felt more joy than she had ever felt in her entire life. She couldn’t help but return the smile because she felt so wonderful and, even better, Billy’s expression seemed to indicate he felt the same, even as his eyes remained closed.

When she could finally tear her eyes away, she tugged on her mother’s hand, eyes wide. “Mom!” She hissed, pointing with the other. “Mom, do you see the angel?!” When she looked back the figure was gone and her mother was sighing. “There’s nothing there, baby.” No signs that it had ever been there at all. After a moment the monitor above Billy’s bed let out a long high noise that had previously been the continuous beeping that said his heart was beating steadily.

She blinked in confusion for a moment and was pulled into her mother’s embrace, turned away from the bed where the boy lay. “Don’t look, Lorraine.” Her mother murmured as the doctors and nurses rushed into the room. It didn’t take them long to turn off the machine and murmur amongst themselves for a moment in hushed and sad tones. Managing to peek through her mother’s arms, she watched as they wheeled the bed out the door, but she didn’t feel sad. That wasn’t Billy the doctors were taking away. Billy had gone with the angel.

“When I was a kid I had a favorite uncle.” She stated easily. “Most kids have a favorite relative, that’s not unusual. He was the greatest. Funny and outgoing and understanding. He was always there to listen and to encourage. He was more like a second father than an uncle and I loved him as much as anyone could.” She paused for a moment. “One day I did something that made him mad. I don’t even remember what it was. But, I remember that he hit me.” She cocked her head slightly. “That was something he never did.”

“It can be argued that anger makes people do things they wouldn’t usually do and I can accept that, but this was…different. I couldn’t find the words to explain it, but it wasn’t just that no matter how angry he got, he never raised a hand to any of us. It was something else. Something…bad. He was different. Not himself.”

She shook her head. “Everyone thought I was just making things up. Children tend to have overactive imaginations, after all. And what child wouldn’t try to get out of admitting they had been wrong and had been punished for it? It didn’t matter that I knew something was wrong, that I no longer felt safe around him, that I couldn’t bring myself to trust him as I once had. It was an overreaction from a child and nothing more.”

“Then he started to change in ways that everyone else could see. He became withdrawn, secretive. He was always quicker to anger, mean…violent. Everything that made him my uncle seemed to have flipped on its axis and the man I had known was gone.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “It was, of course, blamed on drugs or alcohol or even some medical issue that no one was aware of. But, seemingly endless tests revealed nothing of the sort. There didn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with him and so everyone was at a loss as to how to explain why he had changed.”

“Eventually he ended up killing my cousin and my aunt and…shortly after being admitted to a place similar to this –“ She shuddered because her experience at that institution wasn’t one she liked to remember. “- he killed himself. Of course, after a stay in an institution of any kind, one always carries the stigma of madness and that was a logical explanation for everything that had happened. But, it was a lie, even if no one would believe it. The last time I saw him alive – when I looked into his eyes – it wasn’t my uncle looking back at me. It was something else.”

She didn’t really give him a chance to respond before she was continuing. “Shortly after that, I told one of the Sisters at the Catholic school I attended that her light shone brighter than that of even the Mother Superior’s. This was a good thing, I thought. Who didn’t want to know that they were that good? Instead of being pleased, I was sent away on a weekend…retreat where nothing was allowed but prayer. No socializing, no talking, only prayer and contemplation on the reasons I was there.”

“After a while I started to think that maybe everyone was right. Maybe I was just making up stories, projecting wishful thinking, being ‘fanciful’ – “ She made a face at the last word, a word she still hated to this day. “ – normal people couldn’t see things that weren’t there. They couldn’t know things before they happened. They couldn’t feel and sense things invisible to the rest of the world. And I wanted so much to be normal. What twelve-year-old doesn’t?”

She shook her head again. “When I returned, I was different, just as they had wanted. I no longer told stories or pointed out things that weren’t there. I had half convinced myself that none of it was real and I just needed to grow up and leave such childish things behind. If I didn’t speak of them, then they weren’t really there.” She paused to meet his eyes. “But, denial doesn’t make those things go away. In fact, those things in the shadows are drawn to those who are weak or vulnerable or chosen for whatever reason and by whatever does the choosing.” Her eyes flickered to the shadows around them as if making a point.

“They congregate when they think they have the upper hand and someone who is…untrained and in denial is someone they want very much. If I hadn’t met my husband when I did, I would probably have ended up like my uncle or worse. He believed everything, he convinced me that I could see and feel these things for a reason and I needed to learn how to use these ‘gifts’ I’d been given. If he hadn’t…There are much worse things than death.”

Girlfriends “Lorraine? What are you doing?” The voice came in the form of her grumbling and disheveled best friend standing in front of where she sat in the middle of the floor with a notebook and a pen in her hand. Alice looked put out, but also confused and concerned as to what would be keeping her friend awake at this hour. “It’s five in the morning. You should be sleeping. We should be sleeping.” She cocked her head slightly, blonde hair falling over one eye before she impatiently pushed it away. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” She added pointedly.

Lorraine looked up at her friend for a moment and then shrugged. “I can’t sleep, so I’m writing a letter.” She admitted, knowing this wouldn’t come as a surprise. This wasn’t the first time Alice had caught her doing the same thing when she should be sleeping or doing something else. She dropped her gaze as Alice sighed and moved to sit next to her. “I know.” She held up a hand before Alice could speak. “I shouldn’t keep doing this. I shouldn’t dwell on it. But…I miss him and…I worry about him.” The last came out softer than she had intended, but it was true.

Alice reached out to take her hand, taking a moment before speaking. “Of course you do.” She sounded more understanding than Lorraine had expected, but she knew she shouldn’t have been surprised. That was how Alice was; quiet and thoughtful and understanding despite how often jealousy or other ugly emotions seemed to rear their ugly heads. It was hard not to be jealous when Betty, the third member of their trio, loved nothing more than to show off the things her privileged life allowed her but not them to have. She didn’t often say what she was really thinking, but when she did she meant it with every fiber of her being. “There’s a war going on out there and your boy is a squidy on some Navy ship in the middle of the ocean somewhere. You’d be a chucklehead if you didn’t worry.”

Lorraine waited a moment for more and when it didn’t come, she prompted it because she knew that Alice wasn’t finished. She was just likely trying to figure out how to put what she was thinking into words. “But?”

Alice smiled just a little, but she was still concerned. “But.” She echoed the word, squeezing Lorraine’s hand a little. “This isn’t going to help you.” She gestured to the

notebook with a pointed look. “Spending all your time writing letters…” She shook her head.

“It makes me feel better.” Lorraine protested, hugging the notebook to her chest with the hand that Alice wasn’t holding. “Closer to him.” Her chin came up in a stubborn way that said she was trying to convince herself of something as much as Alice and Alice wasn’t buying it. “Does it?” She asked flatly, meeting her friend’s eyes with an expression that said she wanted the truth.

A frown graced Lorraine’s features as she really thought about her own answer. She could stick to what she’d said, but it wasn’t true and she knew it just as much as Alice did. “No.” She finally sighed, lowering the book once more. “I don’t even know if he’s getting them. I haven’t heard anything in a while…”

Alice nodded, her expression gentle. “Right. I know. And I understand how worried you must be.” She gestured to the book again. “But, he’s out there doing what he feels like he needs to do and you need to do what you need to do.” Lorraine’s questioning look only fueled her words. “You have to live, too. Ed wouldn’t want you to go into a decline over this. Just because he’s not here doesn’t mean everything has to change. You still have me and Betty. You still have the kids.” She always referred to Lorraine’s siblings as ‘the kids’ because that was basically what they were: her kids.

She studied Lorraine for a long moment. “You said he told you he was worried about leaving you and you said he didn’t have to, that you’d be fine. That you would wait for him, but you wouldn’t pine for him.” Her expression hardened just a little. “Because you’re not that weak, right?”

Lorraine was completely silent, a slow nod her only reply.

“Besides,” Alice went on, satisfied by the nod, but still not finished. “You gave him a reason to come back.” The hand that was holding Lorraine’s shifted to tap the ring on her ring finger. “No guy is stupid enough to leave that promise up in the air. He’ll make sure he’s around to fulfill it. Just like you’re going to do. Right?”

Another nod followed a quiet “Right,” as Lorraine considered all that Alice had said. “Right.” It was more firm this time because her friend was right. She had been stupid, letting herself spiral into something akin to depression with the absence of her fiancé. Worried every day that he would be hurt or worse to the point that it was starting to consume her waking thoughts – and her nightmares, too. “I have been a chucklehead about the whole thing.” She offered Alice a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, but was sincere nonetheless because she was grateful for her friend and her concern and this conversation that had made her see what was happening when she hadn’t been able to do so on her own. “Good thing I have you to keep me in line.”

“Yep.” Alice nodded firmly, her own smile looking somewhat relieved that Lorraine was at least listening to her. If she took the words to heart would remain to be seen, but she thought she would. “Now, let’s go to bed, yes?” She stood and offered Lorraine a hand up, smiling again as her friend left the notebook on the desk before following her to the bed that the two of them were sharing with Betty while they were both sleeping over at her house.

“It’s about time you crumbs stopped yammering.” Betty’s voice came from beneath the blankets, surprising them both, having thought she was sleeping. She sounded grumpy, but in a way that they knew she had been listening and she was also pleased with how the conversation had gone. Flipping the blanket down so that she could squint at them, she adopted a mock annoyed expression. “Now, get over here so that we can all get some sleep. You know how cranky I get if I don’t get my beauty sleep.”

Lorraine arched an eyebrow at Alice, shaking her head as she and Alice moved to follow orders, slipping into the large bed with Lorraine in the middle of the other two. “You okay?” Betty’s low voice floated over to her from beside her, an attempt to sound unconcerned quite obvious.

She couldn’t help but smile, this time one that did reach her eyes because she loved her friends and they loved her. They took care of her. She was lucky to have them and she knew that. The smile remained as she closed her eyes and murmured her answer. “Copacetic.”



The Conjuring: Since the 1960’s, Ed and Lorraine Warren have been known as the world’s most renowned paranormal investigators. Lorraine is a gifted clairvoyant, while Ed is the only non-ordained Demonologist recognized by the Catholic Church.

Out of the thousands of cases throughout their controversial career, there is one case so malevolent, they’ve kept it locked away until now.










Full Name: Lorraine Rita Warren (nee Moran)
Nicknames: Lori, Rainey, Raine, Woman, Ghost Girl, Lo
Aliases: None
Date Of Birth: January 31st, 1927
Place Of Birth: Bridgeport, CT
Current Residence: Monroe, CT
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Blue
Mother: Georgiana Moran
Father: James Moran
Sister(S): Margaret (Maggie) and Joan Moran
Brother(S): Richard (Ricky) Moran
Children: Judy Warren
Other Family: Sister Irene (Cousin)
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Married
Current Relationship(s): Ed Warren
Past Relationship(s): None
Languages Spoken: English
Occupation: Clairvoyant, Light Trance Medium, Paranormal Investigator, Mother, Wife
Job Description: Paranormal Investigator






DISCLAIMER


My Lorraine is extremely AU. She is some combination of completely made up backstory, the movies and facts about the real person thrown in for authenticity and is a work in progress. Though I've majorly shifted Lorraine's timeline in order to write most of my stories, she was actually born in 1927 and most of the famous cases she and Ed investigated were in the 50's and 60's. That's where the 40's slang and mentions of WWII come into play in my writings. I don't often get to write in her actual time frame in my storylines because everyone else is more modern characters and I've learned to roll with that. In case any of that causes confusion to people who haven't heard me mention it before.

MY NPCs who often feature in my stories can be found here: https://tinyurl.com/y48qmjq8

OWES

STARTERS:

"Please don't do this." - 50 Shades of Sin
"Thank you, for everything." - TheFox
"Please don't do this." or "You haven't lost me." - in my veins;
"I can't do this on my own." - Guillotine
Unshakable Faith


REPLIES:
Royal Bitch
Ginger
Lovely Clairvoyant
Evil Within
starchild*
The Boss Lady
Mary Ellen
Light Bringer
Child's Play
Kyran
demonologist
[B]utcher
Charity


MINI-DRABBLES
"Your petty discourse is highly amusing." - [B]utcher
"And what brings you into my domain, little one?" - Lil Monkey (Lorraine to Trixie)
"No one's ever built me a shrine before." - Black Velvet
"And what is a mere mortal to a god?" - /witchnapped
"You probably look nothing like your statue." - Child's Play
"You dare speak to me in such a tone?" - Paragon
"Don't be stupid. Gods don't exist." - Super-Bitch
"What a cute little shrine. I wonder who it's to." - Light Bringer
"A god? Don't be so full of yourself." - soDARK (Lorraine to Umbra)
"You don't look very...godly...to me." - 50 Shades of Sin (Lorraine to Penelope)
"Um...hello? Any...anyone listening?" - in my veins;
Valak
The Cârța Monastery was built somewhere in Romania by a duke centuries ago. Becoming obsessed with dark magic and Satanism, the Duke attempted to summon a demonic force from the catacombs only to be killed by the members of the Vatican who then sealed the rift with the Blood of Christ. Hundreds of years later, the monastery was bombed heavily during the events of World War II, releasing the same evil spirit from its imprisonment. The demon had since taken the form of a nun as a means of blending with the other nuns. Throughout the years, nuns continuously prayed in communion to combat the evil, but in vain as the demonic entity walked freely around the monastery all nights, in the form of a nun to mock their faith.

In 1952, Valak had slain several of the nuns, leaving only two survivors. Sister Victoria, with a key in hand, commits suicide in order to prevent Valak from claiming her as a host. Sometime after her death, the Vatican tasked Burke and Sister Irene to investigate. Valak manipulated them, ranging from creating mass illusions with the ghosts of the slain nuns to weaken Sister Irene to tormenting Father Burke by taking the form of a young boy who had died from a botched exorcism at his hands. Valak then buried Father Burke alive before luring Sister Irene to become possessed. When the catacombs began to flood, Valak tried to strangle Sister Irene to death. While inspecting her for any vital signs, Sister Irene spit the Blood of Christ onto Valak, burning it severely. The rift was then resealed. However, this would prove to not be the end of the Demon Nun as when the group was leaving, Frenchie, a French Canadian otherwise known as Maurice was revealed to have an inverse cross branded on the back of his neck. This segues to a film and conversation discussed during a lesson the Warrens were giving about demonic possession.


“During the exorcism he – it – showed me something.” She tried again. Getting at least that full sentence out. “I saw the demon. Or, at least the form it was choosing to take. A form meant to shake my faith and my foundation. But, worse…worse was the vision of Ed’s death.” She swallowed hard. The very thought made her tremble, sent ice shooting through her veins and made her mind scream in terror. Wrapping her arms around herself, she continued, talking about it even harder than she had anticipated. “I’m not stupid. I know that these beings can pluck things out of your mind and show you the thing you fear the most. But, this…this was different. This wasn’t just a vision, it was a premonition. I know it.”

Music
STRANGE (Annabelle)

At the tender age of eight, she greatly disliked hospitals. Hospitals meant that people were sick or hurt and suffering and she hated to see people in any kind of pain. But, her mother was here and so she spent as much time as she could right by her side, worried despite assurances from both her mother and her doctor that she was going to be fine in a few days.

Sitting next to the bed, holding her mother’s hand in hers, she glanced at the next bed over. There were only two patients in this room, but the other was a boy her own age. His name was Billy. She hadn’t tried to talk to him because he didn’t seem to be able to do so. Even when he was awake he didn’t seem awake. The doctors were in to see him several times a day and he was hooked up to a lot of machines. She had asked what was wrong with him, but only been told that he was ‘very sick.’ It made her heart hurt. It made her sad. It made her want to help. It made her feel helpless because there was really nothing she could do.

This time when she glanced over, there was someone or…something sitting in the chair beside his bed, holding his hand as she held her mother’s. The figure was glowing brightly and as soon as she laid eyes on it, she instantly felt lighter, warmer, peaceful. And when the figure smiled…she felt more joy than she had ever felt in her entire life. She couldn’t help but return the smile because she felt so wonderful and, even better, Billy’s expression seemed to indicate he felt the same, even as his eyes remained closed.

When she could finally tear her eyes away, she tugged on her mother’s hand, eyes wide. “Mom!” She hissed, pointing with the other. “Mom, do you see the angel?!” When she looked back the figure was gone and her mother was sighing. “There’s nothing there, baby.” No signs that it had ever been there at all. After a moment the monitor above Billy’s bed let out a long high noise that had previously been the continuous beeping that said his heart was beating steadily.

She blinked in confusion for a moment and was pulled into her mother’s embrace, turned away from the bed where the boy lay. “Don’t look, Lorraine.” Her mother murmured as the doctors and nurses rushed into the room. It didn’t take them long to turn off the machine and murmur amongst themselves for a moment in hushed and sad tones. Managing to peek through her mother’s arms, she watched as they wheeled the bed out the door, but she didn’t feel sad. That wasn’t Billy the doctors were taking away. Billy had gone with the angel.


---


Lorraine Rita Moran had always been different. She just didn’t know it. She was sure that everyone could see and feel the things she could. She was sure that she couldn’t possibly be the only one whose dreams came true sometimes or whose dreams showed her things that she was positive would come true sometime in the future.

She didn’t start to wonder until she actually paid attention to her mother’s reactions upon seeing a picture she had drawn one day. It was a picture of the family she would one day belong to and she was extremely happy to explain that to her mother, assuming she would feel the same. She didn’t. Instead, she seemed almost afraid and Lorraine was left with the feeling that she had done something wrong. It was a feeling she neither liked nor understood and it left her confused and feeling guilty without a solid reason behind it.

The scene with the angel in the hospital only added to that confusion because she didn’t understand how her mother could have possibly missed it…or not believed it. Even if she couldn’t see it the same way she had, how could she not have felt its presence? When she later tried to tell her younger sister about it, her mother seemed upset and scolded her for making up stories. Again, something beneath the angry tone said she was really afraid.

Still, even as the doubts started to arise in the back of her mind, she didn’t truly think she was that different or that she was bad or anything like that. Even as the things she saw grew darker. She never saw another angel, but she never forgot it either. What she did start to see were shadows. Dark things that seemed to be watching and waiting…for what she had no idea. Things that creeped and slithered and stared. Things that haunted her dreams and she couldn’t always remember later. Things that weren’t always there, but when they were, they made their presence quite known to her.

Some things she still tried to tell her parents and other people around her. Things she felt mostly. If other people couldn’t feel the same things, then she had a duty to tell them. Especially if they weren’t good things. Still this usually resulted in being told to stop making up stories or being brushed off as such even if those exact words weren’t spoken. That was what children did, after all. They made up stories and had imaginary friends.

When she was ten, something happened that she wasn’t prepared for. One of those shadows showed itself in a form completely familiar to her. A form near and dear. A form she hadn’t known it was possible to possess. And though she knew that her uncle was no longer her uncle, she had no idea how accurate that word – ‘possess’ – really was. It was a slow transition from the man she loved into the…thing he became and all along the way, she tried to convince those around her that it wasn’t him. He wasn’t doing drugs or drinking. He wasn’t depressed or changing because of natural means. He hadn’t had a complete personality shift that changed him from one of the kindest people she had ever met into an abusive and almost evil one. He hadn’t gone crazy enough to shoot his wife and children. And he wasn’t crazy when he was placed into the mental institution that became his home for the rest of his life.

Even as she visited him in that place that made her skin crawl and her hackles rise, she knew that it wasn’t really him she was visiting. At least subconsciously. But, it was still devastating to see the man she had loved like a second father her whole life in a place like that. For six months she visited him almost daily, allowed only because her parents believed that such an allowance might convince her that she was wrong in her insistence that he wasn’t her uncle and make her see that he was really just mentally disturbed and it wasn’t something that could be fixed.

It was a year after she had first noticed the change that she visited him for the last time. I was that day that she saw true evil as it looked out at her from beloved eyes and whispered in her ear that it was bored now, but it wasn’t done playing. A threat or a promise, she wasn’t sure. But, after she left that last day, she learned that her uncle had gotten ahold of a gun somehow and the guilt from killing his own family had finally been what caused him to turn it on himself. She didn’t believe it for a minute.

---


Over the next year, she threw herself into life at the all-girls Catholic school she attended. She didn’t talk quite as much about the things she had before because she was learning that people didn’t want to believe her. But, it made a strange sort of sense because who wanted to hear about all the bad things around them? Still, she stood out enough that a majority of the girls there saw her as strange enough to not want to become close with her and that hurt because that was all she wanted.

She wanted to be friends with the girls around her. She wanted to be friends with everyone. They were so close every day that it didn’t make sense to her not to be. Part of her wanted to be like them as well, though she never voiced that thought aloud. Part of her just wanted to be normal. Maybe then they would like her. Still, even if they didn’t want to be friends, that didn’t stop her from helping them whenever she could, be it with classes or bible study or simple things like cleaning their rooms or other chores that they were each assigned. It was hard to feel so alone when surrounded by so many people.

It was that loneliness that led her more often than not, to one of her teachers. The woman was her absolute favorite because she was so purely good. There was no other way to describe her. She was kind and sweet and always made time for any of the girls who might need her for absolutely anything at all. And so, she felt nothing out of the ordinary as she approached the woman on the day that would change everything for her.

A search for the woman had led her to a large sort of playroom that was created for the younger girls who attended school there. There had recently been a large donation of toys and so Sister Margaret – a happy coincidence that the woman shared a name with her younger sister who she also adored – was going through that shipment and making note of what they had received when she entered the room. As if sensing she was there, the woman stood to offer a smile as she approached, holding a doll in her arms as she did so.

It was a doll Lorraine had never seen before and so she assumed it had just come in. It was curious and intriguing, but only held her attention for a moment. She didn’t realize she was staring at Sister Margaret at first, a smile on her face. The woman was…bright. Not like the angel, but more so than anyone else she had met. It made her happy, it made her love her. She just adored Sister Margaret.

“Lorraine? What is it?” There was concern in the Sister’s voice and that was enough to draw her attention to her face and to shake her head a little because it was a silly question. Nothing was wrong. How could there be? She smiled up into that face she adored and told the truth. It would be wrong to lie to anyone, but especially to someone you cared so very much about. “I was just…looking.” She tried to figure out how to explain what she wanted to say. “Did you know that your light shines brighter than even the Mother Superior’s?”

She finally just said it the way she saw it. She saw nothing wrong with saying it because who wouldn’t want to know that they were that good? It was the greatest compliment she could have given in her eyes and there was no one more deserving than Sister Margaret. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.” There was such innocence and adoration in her tone, that there could be no mistaking her sincerity.

Yet, what she saw wasn’t pleasure at all. Sister Margaret’s expression fell and something akin to fear rose in her eyes. Something Lorraine had never seen before and it wiped her own smile completely off of her face. She didn’t understand this reaction at all. Didn’t Sister Margaret know she was good? Weren’t all the nuns here good? Why was she looking like that?

Sister Margaret was stunned for a long moment and then she suddenly shoved the doll into Lorraine’s arms, stuttering out some excuse that made it seem as if she needed to be somewhere else immediately. As if she couldn’t stand to be there for one more moment. Frozen, Lorraine watched with wide eyes as the woman made her escape, the door swinging closed behind her. After a short silence, she looked down at the doll in her arms. “What did I do wrong?” Of course she didn’t expect an answer. Not from a doll.

---


It wasn’t long after that she found herself on a weekend retreat from school. A penance for being ‘fanciful’ – a word she came to hate for the rest of her life – for making up stories. A weekend that was to consist of no socializing whatsoever, only silence and prayer. Contemplation and atonement. A weekend that, as it drug on, made her start to wonder if they weren’t all right. Maybe she was just making things up. Maybe what she saw and felt wasn’t really there. Maybe it was time to grow up and leave such childish things behind.

Maybe if she believed hard enough she could actually make it true. Maybe if she prayed hard enough she could be normal just like everyone else.

---


Her return to the school after that fateful weekend showed a completely different girl. While she had been dedicated to everything involved in the school, she was now totally devoted. No longer did she even mention any feelings or visions or any of the things she had spoken of before. She seemed more mature, more grown up, more serious. She no longer told stories or said strange things that no one could quite figure out, but made complete sense to her. She no longer spoke of her dreams or anything around them outside of the obvious that everyone was aware of. She no longer smiled.

It was as if she had had a true revelation during her time away and had come – or been led – to the conclusion that all of that was a childish fantasy that needed to be put away. And yet her peers still didn’t seem to come around as she wanted them to. She had hoped that maybe now that she was normal, too, they would see that and they would allow her to get to know them more. That they would allow her to be their friends. She needed that now more than she ever had. It was a hope that appeared to be in vain as their aloof treatment didn’t seem to change much.

They would talk to her if it was necessary, but nothing deep, nothing personal. Nothing that indicated trust. It looked like, though she was different, had seen the error of her ways, nothing could erase the past from their minds and maybe they would always see her as weird.

Feeling particularly down one day, she meandered through the school on her own. There was a free period today that they didn’t usually have and she had no one to spend it with and nothing to do, so she just walked. She had no destination and was a little surprised when her feet led her to the playroom that she hadn’t visited since her conversation with Sister Margaret.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside. A glance around showed that it could use a little cleaning and so she moved to start doing that. It wasn’t like she had anything else to do. Making her way around the room she was surprised to see the doll that had caught her attention that last day and she reached out to pick it up with a sigh. Something nagged at the back of her mind, but she pushed it down, refused to acknowledge it. She wasn’t that girl anymore. She was normal and normal girls didn’t get weird feelings about things like perfectly normal dolls.

She studied the item for a long moment and then sighed as she hugged it close. She wished she could be hugging a friend instead of an inanimate object, but apparently that was never to be and so she had to settle for what she could. “What did I do wrong?”
Movies
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Twelve years old and on a weekend retreat from the Catholic girls’ school she normally attended. A weekend that didn’t allow for socializing or even talking of any kind. Only praying. Deemed necessary by one of the teachers at her school because she had been considered ‘fanciful’ when she told the Sister that the woman’s light shown brighter even than that of the Mother Superior. How was she to know that others couldn’t see the things she saw? She had thought it was perfectly normal. And, oh how she wanted to be normal. Why couldn’t she just be like everyone else?

She truly didn’t understand why someone wouldn’t want to know something like that. A brighter light meant a brighter soul, a good person. Shouldn’t everyone be told they were good? But, if there was one thing that Lorraine Moran was, it was a fast learner. That weekend made her realize that the things she saw, sensed and felt were not normal, everyday things that everyone experienced. They were not always things people wanted pointed out and maybe…maybe they were not things she should talk about at all.

Because, they were not always good things like what she had said to the Sister. She saw other things, too. Things that were scary and she wanted to pretend weren’t there because if she didn’t acknowledge them, maybe they would go away. Those things she didn’t talk about. Talking made things more real and she couldn’t pretend if she brought those things into the light.

Shadows slithering, sliding, creeping. Sometimes appearing somewhat humanoid in shape, sometimes nothing even close. Sometimes just something slightly darker than the shadows around it, sometimes something not visible at all but still so clearly there. A whisper in the dark. A feeling of being watched, stalked, hunted. A bad feeling that couldn’t be described as anything but just that: bad.

The weekend away gave her time to do nothing but think and she didn’t like where that thinking had taken her. The Sister had said that she was fanciful because she had pointed out something that others couldn’t see. Was that true? Was she making it up? She didn’t think so. Why would she do that when she wanted nothing more than to be like everyone else? When she had thought she was like everyone else. No, what she saw was really there, but maybe…maybe it didn’t have to be.

Maybe if she denied it hard enough, convinced herself, willed hard enough…maybe it would just all go away. She couldn’t think of these abilities – if that was the right word for them – as gifts at all. They were more like a curse that made her stand out among the rest of the world, prevented her from fitting in, and showed her things she didn’t understand. Things she sometimes didn’t want to. What was the good in having such things?

Her retreat had been a sobering one and her return revealed a different child. She was even more quiet and somber upon first arriving. Clearly the weekend had had its intended effect and she was no longer going to be going on about the things that had caused her to be sent away in the first place. She was going to focus more on her studies and the things that her school and the church offered. She would be what they wanted her to be and leave those other things behind.

She would.

---

It was harder than she had anticipated, deliberately not seeing the things all around her, not allowing herself to believe they were there, that she had made them up and had now seen the light. It was like something constantly out of whack, out of reach. It was like walking on egg shells as she attempted to play the part of normal, dutiful little Catholic girl with nothing extraordinary about her at all.

But, no matter how much she pretended, how much she wished it all away, she couldn’t stop it all completely. In sleep she had no control. In sleep those things suppressed in the daylight had free reign. Both the good and the bad, but the bad seemed to have more strength the more she tried to deny it all.

Darkness. A darkness so black that it felt almost tangible, thick and inky and oppressive. There was something there in that darkness. Watching. Waiting. For what she had no idea, but it sent chills down her spine and jolted her into what she thought was wakefulness.

Jerking upright in bed with a gasp, she pulled her blankets up to her chin and squinted as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the blackness around her. It took longer than she thought and a terror began to creep through her as her eyes darted this way and that, trying to detect what it was that was in the room with her.

When that didn’t work, she squeezed her eyes shut, clinging to the blankets almost like a shield that would protect her from anything that might wish her harm. “This isn’t real…I made it all up…I’m a fanciful child with fanciful stories that have no basis in reality.” The first part was her own thinking, the second parroted from what she had been repeatedly told before the epiphany that brought her to her current state of denial.

“This isn’t real. I made it all up.” The words were repeated as if she could convince herself and therefore the world that they were true. Almost a prayer in their intensity and the desperate need for them to protect her. Something she didn’t feel she could do herself, something she had been telling herself wasn’t necessary. If things weren’t real, then she needed no protection from them.

She was trembling as the words faded, but her mouth continued to move, silently repeating the words over and over. The words froze on her lips and ice shot through her veins as she felt something touch her shoulder. What flashed before her eyes was something she couldn’t describe later had she tried.

Evil.
Pure evil.
Screams.
Darkness.
Pain.
Loss.

So many people suffering. So much torture and death and worse. Betrayal and possession and everything that couldn’t exist that went bump in the night. People dying, people crying, people hurting each other and themselves.

Laughter, cruel and mocking and triumphant. Eyes glowing red, eyes black as the deepest pit of Hell. Claws and teeth and horns. Cheshire grins and eternal amusement with the suffering of others.

A voice, deep and regretful, almost shimmering in the darkness, sad as it came from the shadows. Unfamiliar, never before heard, but resonating in her heart nonetheless: “I’m sorry, Lorraine.”

A shock, another jolt, but of a different kind. Her eyes snapping open, tears streaming down young, child plump cheeks. “No!” Sobs tearing from her throat as her head jerked back and forth in denial, in terror. Overwhelmed and teetering on the brink of insanity. Something clicking, almost snapping into place with a finality that left her senses numb as the visions faded and the silence descended once more.

Opening her eyes once more, she swallowed hard, the painful sobs tapering off slowly. The darkness was fading, the touch on her shoulder gone as if it had never existed. A glance around and she knew she wasn’t alone. But, this presence was different. This presence was lighter. This presence didn’t want to hurt her. Yet part of her didn’t want to see it either. Didn’t want to see any of it. She just wanted it all to fade back into her imagination where it all belonged.

But, it wasn’t fading. It was only getting stronger and since it wasn’t going away, she did the only thing she could. She called out to it. “Hello?” Her voice trembled, hoarse as if it hadn’t been used for some time. “I know you’re there!” It didn’t come out as strong as she wanted it to, but part of her knew it didn’t have to. She would be heard whether she spoke aloud or not. “I’m not scared!” A total lie. She was still trembling as she watched and waited for what was to come.

It couldn’t be worse than what she had already seen, could it? She wasn’t sure, but she knew she was about to find out as she watched something step out of the shadows.

---

Whatever the reason for these dreams, they only made Lorraine more determined than ever to suppress these things, to ignore them, to forget them if she could. For the next few years, that was just what she did. She focused on being what she was supposed to be: just like everyone else. Or…not quite just like them, but at least normal.

Oh, her girlfriends became use to her little quirks. The times when her attention would wander and she would appear to be somewhere else entirely. They just figured that she was daydreaming more than the rest of them and they needed to draw her attention back. They liked her enough that they were usually more amused by it than anything, teasing her about what she might have been thinking about that had taken her attention from them. They were never even remotely close, but it was nice to know that they accepted the things that she couldn’t – wouldn’t – explain to them. It was good because it helped her to ignore it better as well, though none of it ever fully went away.

It wasn’t until she was sixteen-years-old that this began to change. That was the year that she met her soulmate and the one person who believed her, who understood, because he went through things that were unexplainable and definitely not ‘normal’ as well. She knew from the moment that they met that they were meant to be together and she wasn’t wrong.

Engaged at seventeen, married at eighteen, they were as close as it was possible for two people to be. Truly two halves of one soul brought together for a reason. Though Lorraine didn’t know that reason at first and she didn’t really care. They were together and that was what mattered. Even after he enlisted and left her for a time. They still managed to make it work. They had each other, they had their daughter and somehow she always knew he was going to come back to her.

And he did. And he brought her back to herself as well. It was because of him that she began to accept her abilities. Those things he called ‘gifts.’ The things she had been trying to ignore and get rid of for the last four years of her life. She began to accept that she was never really going to be normal and that was okay because neither of them were normal but they could be odd together. They could use that strangeness for good. They could use it to help others. People who couldn’t find help anywhere else because no one else believed.

And so, that was what they did. She embraced her clairvoyance and other abilities and he became the only non-ordained demonologist recognized by the Catholic church and they set out to do what they were meant to do.

At first it was touch and go, hit and miss. At first people didn’t ask for their help, they had to offer it. But, they had to offer it in a way that it seemed like they weren’t. In their twenties, the young couple would be drawn to these ‘haunted’ houses and to gain access they took a rather odd route, but one that seemed to work out rather well. Her husband would stand outside the house, sketching it and then painting it while those inside watched and wondered what he was doing. Once the painting was finished, she would take it to the door and offer it to the residents as a special gift, all of her personality and charm gaining them access to do what they needed to do.

It wasn’t long before they became more well known and people started seeking out their help. It was help they didn’t deny and the cases stacked up, but never blended into each other. They weren’t all legitimate, of course. Though all the cases they accepted were from people who truly believed they were being haunted. A lot of those scary things could be explained away, debunked without too much effort and those were the cases that they liked. That was what they wanted the results to be.But, there were plenty of times that was not the case as well and the things they faced were much darker, much scarier, much more dangerous. Those were the things that lingered in her mind and heart and took a little piece of her each time they faced them. Those were the things that she refused to let conquer her – though one had come close – and that was how she found herself where she did today.
Warren
Lorraine
Monsters
Are
real
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Ed Warren
How we met: At the theater where Ed worked.
First Date: Jitterbugging at the local dance hall, early 1943

“Do you go dancing often?” She finally asked, when the silence had gone on for a bit. “I don’t. I mean, I’ve gone with my girlfriends and of course the whole family night thing, but…” She trailed off, thinking that just sounded lame. “But not…on a date.” There. It wasn’t something she had wanted to admit, but with how she was acting, she figured it was pretty obvious she didn’t do this a lot, didn’t know what she was supposed to be doing or how she was supposed to act. She liked him. A lot. And she didn’t even know him. But, she wasn’t sure he felt the same, couldn’t see why he would.

She attempted a smile again when they arrived at the dance hall, hesitating and wondering if she should wait for him to open her door for her again as he had before. He took the option from her as he hurried around to do so and she reached for his hand again, not waiting for him to accept this time as she climbed out of the car and he closed the door behind her. “Thank you.” She shifted to weave her arm through his as she had earlier, feeling slightly more confident this time, though not much. He hadn’t pulled away any of the other times she had initiated such contact, so she was taking that as – and hoping she was right – a sign that he wouldn’t do so now.

Her eyes lit up as they got closer to the doors and they could clearly hear the strains of Glenn Miller from inside. She did love to dance and she was good at it, even if she didn’t have much practice on the couple part of it. And who didn’t love Glenn Miller?

She found herself tugging on Ed just a bit as the doors were pulled open for them and they were greeted with a grin and wide welcoming gesture into the main floor of the dance hall. The music was loud and there was already a crowd. While it might normally be intimidating, Lorraine was surprised to realize that she was really happy and looking forward to this. The dance floor was full, the crowd seeming like one group willing to dance with anyone. Couples, singles, it didn’t matter who you were, if you were in range, you became a dance partner to anyone who found themselves needing one.

Turning sparkling eyes on Ed, Lorraine grinned. “Ready to swing a wing?” She asked, not waiting for an answer before pulling him toward that crowded dance floor and weaving her way through to a spot big enough for both of them before she let go of his arm and started to move to the music. It was hard not to let the music move you when in such an atmosphere as this. It was one of the reasons she loved this place. It wasn’t just a group of people, it was a unit, everyone happy to include everyone else. It was magic.
Take my hand
Take my whole life, too
I can't help falling
In love with you
*****First connection box (left side) starts here.*****
The day sixteen-year-old Lorraine Moran met her soulmate was a day like any other. The year was 1943 and signs of the war raging over seas were present all around them as she and a couple of her girlfriends walked the main street of Bridgeport, Connecticut on their way toward the Polis Majestic theater. Posters and radio ads screamed for the purchase of war bonds, an emotional plea for the citizens of the United States to support their men and their country in a simple act of patriotism that anyone could participate in. Everywhere you looked you were encouraged to do your part and contribute to the national defense.

Enlistment posters were just as prominent, recruitment attempts for men to fight for their country, their freedom and to destroy the Japanese who had gotten the US involved in this war to begin with - Pearl Harbor had been forgotten by no one – and to free those held under Nazi tyranny to reopen world communication and cooperation. Women were encouraged to join the fight as well, due to the shortage of manpower. Not only were they needed as switchboard operators, telegraphers, mechanics and drivers, but to actually join the women’s Army corps and the Navy. By the fall of last year the Women’s Auxiliary Air Squadron began training women pilots who flew planes to different military bases in the United States. They tested the aircrafts and performed other non-combat flight duties, afraid they would never be allowed in the military again if they weren’t sufficient in a chosen role. Woman power was on the rise.

Even those at home were encouraged to accept the ration books with grace and dignity, proving that women were just as important in their ability to care for their families, to keep them happy and healthy on less than they had once had. That rationing was an art that women were to be praised and appreciated for. They were also encouraged and expected to step into the rolls of the men who had gone overseas to fight for their country, staffing factories and manufacturing plants, for the duration of the war and only until the men returned. Many women who had been employed in fields strictly for women, such as secretarial positions and domestic jobs were eager to try their hands at jobs only men had done before, becoming taxi and streetcar drivers, heavy construction machinery operators, lumber and steel mill workers, building dirigibles, making munitions and much more.

Propaganda was everywhere that you looked, print, film and radio. Rosie the Riveter, in her bandana covered hair and her blue coveralls with the sleeve rolled back proclaimed “We Can Do It!" from posters seen just about everywhere.

Amidst that propaganda and the demands that the country to what it could to aid in the war efforts, radios cried out news from around the world, while newspapers could be seen on street corners and in hands of many around the city, headlines screaming out to catch the attention of those patriotic enough to care…or just curios as to the state of the world they were now living in.

WAR CONFERENCE OF HIGH OFFICERS HELD IN NORTH AFRICA

ROSEVELT, STALIN, CHURCHILL AGREE ON PLANS FOR WAR ON GERMANY IN TALKS AT TEHERAN; 1,500 MORE TONS OF BOMBS DROPPED ON BERLIN

U.S. FORCES HAVE OUTFLANKED JAPS ON GUADALCANAL

ALLIES TAKE 2 CITIES: DUCE FREE, SAY NAZIS

JAPS EXECUTE YANKEE PRISONERS

AMERICANS TAKE KASSERINE GAP: BRITISH PROBE MARETH OUTPOSTS: NAZI ATTACKS SLOW SOVIET DRIVE

---


None of that was really on the minds of the three girls as they walked, however. Though war and its effects swirled around them and was unavoidable, life still had to go on and they were still teenagers. Discussions ranged from school to studies to friends – and enemies – to the fact that Betty had a new pair of Saddle shoes. Of all of the topics, the shoes were by far the most important because there was a shoe ration along with all of the others and shoes were, of course, a big deal for all of the girls.

“Aren’t they just killer-diller?” Betty was twisting her foot this way and that, just outside the movie theater where they now stood, so that her two companions could get the best view of her new footwear. She knew that she was stylish and a thing of jealousy in that moment. None of her friends had such a thing to show off and so she was enjoying her brief moment in the spotlight. She flipped her dark hair over one shoulder and offered a huge smile to her friends.

“Yeah, yeah.” Alice was rolling her eyes and making a point of looking anywhere but at those coveted shoes while sneaking a glance whenever she could. She didn’t have as much as most of her friends, money or material possessions, and jealousy hit her hard and often. As her gaze was drawn to those pristine white bobby socks and the ever-coveted shoes, she repressed a scowl, but she couldn’t manage a smile. So, she settled for an attempt at aloof instead.

She knew her attempt was futile when Betty’s smile only grew and she preened even more. She seemed to live on other peoples’ admiration and jealousy. “Aw, c’mon, Ali-girl.” She wheedled. “You know they’re pretty special. You can admit it, I won’t tell.” She stuck her foot out again, admiring the shoe herself. “You know, I’m sure Charles would get you a pair if you asked him real nicely.” She spoke as if the idea was an offhand one, but the sly smirk said otherwise.

That drew Alice’s attention back and her eyes narrowed slightly before she shook her head as if brushing the idea off without much thought. “Charles has much more important things to spend his money on than that.” She spoke as if her boyfriend were above such things and her friend was a child for even suggesting such a thing. Besides, it took much more than just money to acquire more shoes than each family was allotted in their ration books.

“More important than you?” Betty couldn’t resist, though she knew she was pushing it. Not only was Alice the jealous type when it came to things like killer-diller shoes, but she was very possessive of the aforementioned boyfriend and the slightest mention of him being anything less than completely devoted was enough to set her scowling.

When the dig got her nothing more than the expected scowl, she was somewhat disappointed. But, since she didn’t really want to fight anyway, she shrugged and turned her attention to her other friend who had made no mention of her shoes or their friend’s boyfriend’s priorities. “What do you think, Lorraine?” She asked, sticking out her foot one more time, knowing she could usually count on at least an attempt at pleasantries from that corner.

Lorraine, however, wasn’t paying attention to the controversial shoe conversation at all. Her gaze was riveted on the movie house they stood outside, a slightly glazed look in her eyes. Something pulled her toward the place, though she would never in a million years tell her friends that. She had learned her lesson the hard way when she was twelve and she had mentioned to the nun at the girls’ Catholic school she was attending that her light shown brighter than even the Mother Superior’s.

At the time she had thought that everyone could see and feel the things she did, but she had quickly learned that was not the case. That revelation had resulted in a weekend away that allowed for no talking or socializing of any kind. An entire weekend of strictly praying and contemplating the admonishment to not be so fanciful. While she might not have learned the lesson that was intended, she had learned another. Those things about her weren’t special at all. They made her different and different was not what she wanted to be.

She had stopped mentioning anything that could be considered different or strange, buried those abilities, or whatever they were, deeply inside. She tried to avoid them, to tell herself that they weren’t real and that the Sister had been right. She was just a fanciful child. Yet, even at her most convincing, they never went away entirely.

“Lorraine!” Betty snapped her fingers in front of her face with an exasperated and yet amused expression. She and Alice were used to their friend’s wandering mind and constant distractions. She often seemed to be elsewhere, thinking about other things rather than paying attention to what was going on around her. But, that was okay. They liked her anyway. “You awake in there?”

Blinking, Lorraine stared at her friend for a moment and then she felt a heat rise to her cheeks that she hoped wasn’t resulting in a visible blush. “Sorry. I was thinking about something else.” She murmured, relieved to see a grin on Betty’s face, though she adopted a mock offended expression shortly after.

“Clearly!” She huffed, hands on her hips. “Here we were, admiring my new shoes and you weren’t even paying attention! And I thought you were my friend!” She put a hand dramatically over her heart and the other on her forehead as if she were a martyr from one of the movies they all so loved and might just pass out from the utter betrayal.

After a moment, she peeked at Lorraine from under the hand on her forehead and her expression shifted to one more knowing and teasing. “There’s only one thing I can think of that might be more important than me.” She said, dropping both hands and leaning slightly forward. A glance at Alice showed that the other girl was apparently over their little discussion and was arching an eyebrow as she waited to hear what the darker girl had come up with.

“Something’s more important than you?” Lorraine attempted levity, but she wasn’t sure what her friend was getting at, so she didn’t try too hard. “I would never have guessed.”

“Only one thing.” Betty nodded sagely, pausing dramatically for a long moment. “Boys!”

The revelation made both Lorraine and Alice blink in surprise and then they all burst into laughter. It would figure that was the one thing Betty would deem important. “Boys? Why would I be thinking about boys?” Lorraine finally asked, neither confirming nor denying the accusation.

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Betty asked in return, shifting to link her arm with both of her friends as she guided them toward the ticket booth. She almost started laughing again when she saw just who it was that was working the booth and settled for subtly nudging Lorraine’s shoulder meaningfully instead.

Lorraine didn’t notice the nudge, her attention was once more focused on something that wasn’t her friends. Though the same age as them, she wasn’t so sure that Ed Warren qualified as a ‘boy.’ He was serious and hard working and…well, she didn’t know him enough to know what else he was. She just knew that she often saw him working here at the theater when she made her way downtown. He was…interesting, but she had never really spoken to him at all. Ignoring the nudge completely, she released both of her friends’ arms and stepped forward to request their tickets, offering a shy smile to Ed as she slid her money forward.

He studied her for a long moment and then placed the money on top of the tickets and slid them all back to her with a smile. “On the house.”

The smile did things to her that she hadn’t thought possible and Lorraine was at a loss for words as she reached for the money and tickets. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” She finally managed, attempting to pay once more, her hands shaking slightly as she tried to figure out just what it was that was going on.

He shook his head and mock pouted. “Are you trying to stop me from being a gentleman here?” He asked as if disappointed. “I’m trying to do a favor for a pretty lady. I would appreciate it if you’d just accept it.” He flashed that smile one more time and she couldn’t come up with a reply.

“Hey, thanks!” Betty swooped in to the rescue, grinning at Ed while she took Lorraine’s arm and started to guide her into the theater. “Come on, Lorraine. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” She offered a wave back to Edward and pulled Lorraine forward.

A glance back showed Lorraine that he was watching her. Something clicked with almost an audible sound, making her feel an entirely different warmth than the embarrassment of a few minutes earlier. She found herself offering him the most beautifully sincere smile she had ever displayed before returning her attention to her friends.

“I think he likes you.” Betty nudged her again, while Alice agreed from the other side, both girls were getting far too much enjoyment out of a simple nice gesture, she was sure of it.

A glance back showed that he had turned his attention to another customer and was no longer looking in her direction, but she could still feel him anyway. “What makes you think that?” She asked almost absently. Of the odd feelings she got almost constantly, most were not pleasant. This was something entirely different than she had ever experienced before.

“Just a feeling.” Betty grinned, shifting to take her hand instead of her arm as she pulled her toward the doors to find their seats. “Just a feeling.” When they were seated and waiting for the movie to start, Lorraine expected the gossip to start up again or for Betty to show off her shoes just one more time. What she got was not what she had thought. “You know.” Betty leaned forward so that she could see both of her friends. “Some things are just meant to be.”
Ed Warren
*****Second connection box (right side) starts here.*****

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

The streamers strung across the window shouted the sentiment in brightly colored letters during what should have been a loud and rowdy birthday party hosting several ten-year-olds. What it really was was the three of them waiting for any of those invited to actually arrive. It didn’t look likely at this point that any would. Balloons were blown up and party hats waited right where they had been laid out

Lorraine discreetly checked her watch as she sat at the table with Judy. Her daughter looked so sad, though that briefly changed to a glimmer of hope as she looked up at her father returning from answering the door. Ed wore one of the party hats on top of his head and had been trying to keep spirits up for nearly an hour now. The look Judy shot him broke Lorraine’s heart and when he shook his head and said it had just been a delivery, she thought she would cry for her daughter.

“Hey…” She reached for Judy’s hand as her daughter’s shoulders slumped and her gaze dropped to the table when Ed sat back down. “We can still have fun, yeah? We can play games and open presents…” She tried to sound hopeful, to sound happy, but it was hard. She knew Judy had to be devastated and nothing she could do was going to lift her spirits right now.

“Yeah…” Judy looked up and between them, doing her best to smile, doubtless because she thought that was what they wanted when all they really wanted was for her to be happy. They didn’t want her to feel like she had to pretend. Lorraine squeezed her hand and then let go, glancing at Ed across the table. He looked as upset about the whole thing as she felt, but she knew Judy wouldn’t be able to tell even if she had been paying attention instead of focused on her own feelings. She could just read Ed like a book as he could do with her.

“I’ll get the cake.” She finally offered, standing to do so. There wasn’t much they could do except follow through with the things they had planned for the party that so clearly wasn’t happening. She knew Judy loved them, but kids deserved to have more than their parents at their birthday party, and she had every right to be upset that none of her classmates had shown up. Ed merely nodded and took over trying to comfort Judy.

Moving into the kitchen, Lorraine opened one of the drawers to retrieve a knife to cut the cake. Glancing at the counter beside her she frowned a little. That day’s newspaper sat where it often did, but it was the headline that screamed up at her that she didn’t like: HEROES OR A HOAX? On top of that was a picture of herself and Ed during one of their lectures. The article referenced an exorcism they had recently been involved in and brought to light the controversy that always surrounded such things, skewing them in a not so pleasant light while trying to appear to be objective about the whole thing.

Flipping the paper over, she sighed. She was fairly certain that had something to do with their conspicuously empty dining room. Not only the article, but what she and Ed did in itself. She was almost used to people questioning and not believing them, accusing them of being frauds, fakes, of being strange, crazy…any number of things. People tended to lash out against things they didn’t understand or believe and those who didn’t agree.

But, none of that was Judy’s fault or anything she should have to deal with. The sins of the parents and all that. Their daughter had nothing to do with their choice of career and what they did for a living and she shouldn’t have to suffer the backlash. But, clearly she did. She didn’t seem to have a lot of friends anyway, despite being a wonderful child. She was kind and considerate and fun. Somewhat shy and quiet, but once she opened up she was a great friend. But, rumors flew and if her parents were strange or worse, then how could she not be the same?

She never complained when asked. She said she had friends at school, but seldom went to visit any and even less often did any come to their home. Those that had had seemed more intent on seeing the ‘scary things’ there than actually being there to visit a friend. She didn’t doubt some were afraid to have anything to do with her at all. She knew that was the case with some of the parents they had met at some of the Parent/Teacher nights. It wasn’t fair and she would do anything to make it different, but she knew there wasn’t really anything she could do and, as a mother, it hurt her heart to be so helpless in such a thing as making her daughter happy.

The ringing of the doorbell pulled her out of her thoughts, and she moved to prepare the cake to be taken to the table, placing the candles and such. She was picking it up when Ed returned once more. This time he wasn’t alone, and she offered a smile to their guest. Mary Ellen was often Judy’s babysitter, but more than that the teen was a close friend of the family, more like a sister to Judy than anything and her presence had been missed. She may not be a classmate, but she was someone who had made the effort to show up and that mattered.

Greeting them all, Mary Ellen put her present on the table and gave Judy a hug, chatting with her a bit as if she hadn’t noticed that no one else were there, as if it was the upbeat and wonderful party it had been planned as. It brought a partial smile to Judy’s face and Lorraine was more grateful for that than she could have ever put into words.

Moving to bring in the cake, she plastered a grin on her own face and began to sing as she put it in front of Judy. “Happy Birthday to you…” The others joined in and Judy’s smile grew just a bit as the song came to an end and she leaned forward. “Don’t forget to make a wish.” Lorraine reminded, still smiling and trying to be happy because at least they were together.

Judy’s smile faded a little as she nodded. “I won’t.” She murmured before blowing out the candles. Lorraine didn’t ask what her daughter had wished for. Not because of the superstition that the wish wouldn’t come true if told, but because she wasn’t sure her heart could handle hearing the answer.

Judy Warren - Open Role
Television
THE DEVIL'S CARNIVAL

Lorraine questioned why she was here and yet she knew at the same time or thought maybe she knew. Pride? Hubris? Ego? Some kind of hero complex that made her think she could actually do something about this carnival that was making news worldwide? That was what she did, right? Wrong. This was nothing like what she did. Not even close. This was Hell. So much so, that she briefly wondered if she really had died and gone to her final destination. Part of her brain said that wasn’t possible. The dead didn’t feel or think. But, a bigger part of her knew that was a lie. The dead could feel, they could suffer. They did all the time. But, that didn’t sit comfortably with her either because she couldn’t quite make herself believe she was truly dead. Her unwavering faith didn’t want to allow her to believe she had been so completely forsaken. Even if she had walked through the gates completely of her own accord.

And none of that did anything to ease her distress and confusion because even if this wasn’t the Hell it was a Hell and there was just no getting around that. Even if the laughing and jostling crowd didn’t see it that way. At first. The world in general seemed to see it as the attraction it pretended to be. A carnival full of fun and games. The world in general often refused to see what was right in front of its face.

At this point, she wasn’t even sure how she had ended up here, just at the entrance of the tent, part of the eager audience in front of the stage containing the giant wheel with the girl strapped to it, and yet not part of it at the same time. They were so…amused and excited for the show, thinking that was all it was. An elaborate act meant to simply entertain as everything else in this place was clearly designed to do. Even the girl herself didn’t seem to see what was really going on.

Wincing each time a knife thunked into the wheel, Lorraine tried to avert her gaze, but it was constantly drawn back. It was painful to watch, to know that this was not the game it appeared to be. These fancy and fanciful Carnival members weren’t just people with makeup and special effects. Oh, no. They were much more than that. And they were numerous, they were strong…they were unbeatable.

That was an even worse pain, a torturous one because her experience was with just that. Helping people to expel inhuman entities and demons from their lives. She had been foolish enough to try do that here. To break the rules in order to try to help a girl much like the one on the stage now. It had landed her as an attraction herself and that wasn’t an experience one just walked away from as if nothing had happened. That was a large part of why she didn’t try to do so again here. She wasn’t eager to repeat the experience. She just watched dully as the girl slowly came to the realization of what was going on. Too late, of course, as that last knife flew and hit with something more meaty and wet than the thunk of the wheel itself.

She was stepping forward before she thought to stop herself, but froze in her tracks as someone else entered center stage. Something else? How exactly did one classify the Devil himself? And what exactly did she think she could actually do anyway? Silence hush had fallen over the entire tent and all eyes were eagerly waiting for the next show to come as the girl was removed from the target and the lights went out only for a spotlight to illuminate the fact that the one who had made the girl his target had become just that.

And then the show began again and her eyes widened as she watched, some of the dullness fading beneath the slight spark that still remained. She had been bent by her experiences here thus far, but not broken. Never that. Her gaze drifted slightly to those so caught up in the show once more as if the words, sing-song as they were, had caught them up again, which was likely just what had happened. Each time the knife flew, the enthusiasm and excitement seemed to grow, the audience bouncing in their seats and clapping along – willingly or not. Though she had never thought it possible, the screams belonging to the demon now strapped to the wooden target filled her with a sympathy and revulsion and helplessness similar to what she had felt when it was a human on the wheel. How could she feel that way about the things she worked so hard to get rid of every day of her life? How could she care if such an entity received punishment in the form of what he had done to someone else? She couldn’t, she shouldn’t and yet…she did. Because torture was torture and it was never right.

Stepping back once more as their illustrious host hopped down off the stage, issuing a request for someone to lock up the suffering demon and someone else to prepare the next act, which the audience was eagerly awaiting, she turned to leave the tent. Of all the things she could encounter here Lucifer was not at the top of the list. Not that anything here was even on that list or a wanted encounter at this point.

She lifted a hand to her mouth to suppress a moan, because she wasn’t sure she could handle being face to face with the Devil himself, and practically stumbled out of the tent, hoping that maybe it was someone else who had caught his attention and feeling guilty for how close to a prayer it was that this might be the case, that she would wish that fate on anyone else.

She was almost sure she was home free, a certainty she should have known was too good to be true, when she glanced around, having no idea what direction to go except away as quickly as she could. A slight feeling of relief was quickly distinguished as she turned around and her jaw dropped, eyes wide once more. How she had not noticed his approach was beyond her and she supposed it didn’t matter in the end because he was right there and she had nowhere to go.

“Oh…”

She couldn’t even initially form a coherent sentence as her mind spun in circles that attempted to figure out what to do to get out of this and came up with no solution. And so, she ended up just standing there for a long moment, staring at him and waiting…
Heroes
Groups: Monsters Are Real,

     Clairvoyant Protector's Details
Body type:Slim / Slender
Ethnicity:No Answer
Height:0"0'
Characters: Lorraine Warren
Verses: The Conjuring, Annabelle, Witchcraft, Real Life, Paranormal, Supernatural, Horror, Crossovers, AU
Playbys: Vera Farmiga (Adult), Taissa Farmiga (Teen), Oona Laurence (Pre-Teen), Madeleine McGraw (Child)
Length: Multi Para, Novella, Para
Genre: Crossover, Drama, Horror, Open, Psychological, Supernatural,
Member Since:August 08, 2018




"Well, Sir, it's a --" The child pauses, hand coming up to cup his mouth as his voice lowers, "It's a //sin// to feel proud."

Lucifer lowers himself automatically to the child's level, motioning toward the others, "Let me fill you tiny lot in on a secret, it's okay to be prideful, greedy -- think of the King, chosen by God, think of all the people telling you what to do, do they hesitate to pat themselves on the back?"



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Clairvoyant Protector's Friends Comments
Displaying 10 of 41 comments (View All | Add Comment)
Living 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 Girl;

36 minutes ago


// I still owe you one more prompt. You are still on ma list. I'm glad you enjoyed the other. 🔪🖤🚬
John “Hellblazer” Constantine

Aug 19th 2019 11:29


One helluva read, luv. Pieces o’work like this that make me lounge in the bulletin boards.
・𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫.

Aug 18th 2019 14:25


#sᴀʀᴀʙɪ▪ᴄoᴍᴘʟᴇx

Aug 11th 2019 21:45




𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗹 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻.

Aug 11th 2019 17:54


Haunted by Demons




 Sebastian had always prided himself on being a skeptic, or maybe it just came with the job title of detective. Either way, his grief at the loss of his daughter had nearly cost him his job, the captain was brutal towards his lower-ranking officers, wanting them to avoid any distractions, no matter the cost to their mental stability. That was the reality of becoming a police officer, he had signed up for it the moment he had joined the academy and graduated. There was no time for weakness when the entire city wanted you dead. Losing Lily had fractured his home life, his wife growing so insane in her grief that she believed Lily was somehow still alive; his disbelief in her theory had only made things worse. Myra went missing, and the stares he received from citizens exhausted him.


  The Chief had ordered him to take a mandatory vacation, or he’d be released from his job, the one thing he still had left. Begrudgingly he’d agreed to step aside, only to handle his grief at home, what was the difference? He’d drink himself into a drunken stupor until Joseph would call him, and reprimand him for getting drunk. It was a seemingly endless cycle of nonsense; one he’d never really be able to escape. At least his job had provided him with an escape, but only for a few hours out of the day. Lily’s face would still haunt his nightmares, leaving him unable to sleep, it was as if she were still with him, somehow reaching out to him.


 But he’d always been a skeptic, nothing would ever change that, especially the death of his daughter, or so he thought.


 ~


  One evening when he’d returned from picking up another bottle of whiskey, he’d placed it on the counter, leaving the room to change out of clothes he’d been wearing.  His attention was snatched when he heard glass shattering, grabbing his gun off his nightstand, he darted back into the kitchen to see his bottle smashed on the ground.


  Staring down at the mess, he gapes like a fool, gun discarded on the counter. There was no logical explanation for what had just happened, and his grief-stricken mind had already conjured up a potential summary of what had occurred. Lily was dead, he’d been right about that, but she hadn’t moved on.  She was still here, and she was angry at him.


 The thought both terrified and thrilled him, maybe there was a chance he’d find closure. Too bad that’d be further from the truth.


~


 Things only got worse, he started seeing her more frequently, except her apparition was violent and burnt to a crisp, whenever he’d dream of her death, he’d wake up with burn marks on his chest. Whatever his daughter had become, it had terrified him.  As her spirit grew more aggressive, his ability to sleep only grew worse, instead he’d find himself up late at night drinking an entire bottle of whiskey just to cope. 


  Out of desperation one evening, he found himself doing research on paranormal investigators, hoping to find one that lived somewhere close by.  Immediately upon his search, the name Warren popped up at the top of the results. That night he wrote down the address, pushed aside the whiskey bottle, and prepared himself with a newfound reality; he was being haunted by his dead daughter, and he wasn’t sure if it was really her.


 The next morning, he climbs into his vehicle and drives towards the address he’d found online, hoping these people wouldn’t turn him away when he asked for help. It takes him about an hour to get there, the area becoming increasingly more unfamiliar the closer he got to his destination. 


 Parking his car on the side of the road, he clambers out of the vehicle, slamming the door shut with little care, too focused on the task at hand. 


Locking the car as he makes his way to the front door, he knocks, and decides to announce himself, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but my name is Sebastian Castellanos, and I need your help.”


𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐬*

Aug 11th 2019 16:26


Ave Avnas.
There was no afterlife for beings like her. Just the end and nothing after. When she felt her essence being torn apart, human flesh stretching and tearing at every edge as the blueish hellfire within her began to set her ablaze from the inside out, her eyes stung with tears and the strong smell of storax. They'd been onto something in search of her angelic blade, her and Lucifer, but with every treasure sought by her power came great consequence. They were hidden treasures for a reason, and a soul was needed to add fuel to the cosmic power. 
No celestial being would have survived a blast of divinity that strong, consumed by a blinding bright light that destroyed everything in its path. The night Amy 'died', she was certain it was the end for her. She had accepted Death so easily, making peace with it like an old friend despite the shouts from those around her that witnessed everything from start to finish. 
Ave Avnas.
* * *
Dressed in uniforms, sitting in a circle in the attic of the abandoned home, the girls all held onto each other's hands in preparation for the ritual they were about to perform. Fingers and palms covered in blood, they each made sure that their wounds touched the wounds of another sister. Clara at the center, hand gripping the handle of the athame she picked up earlier.
"As a sign of my devotion, I offer myself to thee as a willing vessel, this body is thy body. Avnas, I accept thee!" Holding the athame up to the ceiling, the girls around her chanted quietly in the background, not once breaking their circle or concentration. 
Ave Avnas.
"I accept thee, Avnas!" Blade turned to face her, Clara kept her eyes shut as she plunged it into her chest with one quick, hard thrust. Right into her heart, piercing her flesh. It was only then that one of the girls gently brought her down to the floor, all the while still chanting and offering her sister a kind smile as if to say you did it, it is done. They shared smiles, Clara shaking with the shock of what she had just done. 
"We call upon thee, Avnas, to take this offering. Avnas, we call upon thee!" In perfectly unsettling unison, each girl repeated the last, watching now as their High Priestess lay on the floor, slowly bleeding out over the large version of Amy's sigil drawn in pig's blood. 
Ave Avnas.
* * *
The sense of coming to sudden consciousness was. . . Alarming. 
Wasn't she dead?
Eyes slowly fluttering open under the pressure of feeling everyone's gaze on her, Amy let out an inhuman growl at the pain coming from her chest as the wound that summoned her there in the first place began to heal itself. It took longer than usual, and she could hear her body working to patch itself up inside her head after the athame had been pulled from its place.
"Master Amy?" 
The title caught her off-guard, but dark eyes that did not belong to her looked over at the source, meeting with bright blue ones that belonged to a witch she knew well. Staring at one another for a long moment, it took the young witch some searching before it registered that this was no longer their High Priestess and that their ritual had worked. Inhabiting the body of their most devoted practitioner was the fallen angel they had left so many offerings for in the past -- this being among the most grand. 
A red haired witch slowly made her way over to her, crawling on her hands and knees before sitting beside her, hand reaching out to slowly unbutton the shirt she was wearing. Almost as if on auto-pilot, Amy took her wrist in a tight grasp and squeezed enough to leave marks where her fingers once were, slowly standing to her feet without letting go. 
The witch's eyes widened in fear and admiration, and Amy soon let her go, looking around the room to get a fuller sense of their surroundings. It smelled heavily like incense and burning herbs, almost enough to feel like it was beginning to choke her. The air was thick, and this body felt constricting, like trying to perfectly fit a square into a circle. Nothing felt comfortable, but she never had to possess a body before. Her previous form had been created, not borrowed. 
"Who else is here?" She spoke, suddenly standing between the attic door and her girls like a guard dog ready to attack anyone or thing that dared come up the steps. Each girl looked at each other -- for all they knew, they were alone. "Go on, go. I will come to you later. I am not angry with you, but we will discuss what you've done." 
The authority in her voice would be uncharacteristic of her to anyone that didn't see this side of the being, but the witches nodded, quickly gathering their things while making as little noise as possible. The house was old and presumably haunted, a popular site for paranormal investigators and urban explorers. It was also a house built in the perfect location, a supernatural beacon where spells were known to not fail. 
Someone else being there would not be unheard of. "Wait here, I will clear a path for you."
Quickly and quietly making her way down the steps that lead to the attic, Amy hid within the shadows as she listened carefully for the sound of someone else being close by. Footsteps and hushed murmurs caught her attention, and as she turned into one of the many rooms in the old house her gaze fell upon a beautiful woman with kind eyes and an expression that meant she knew what she was doing, rare in the world of paranormal investigators. If that was, indeed, what she was.
"Shhhh. . ." She whispered, bringing her finger to her lips as she approached the woman, not wanting to bring harm to her. "I can't have you keeping my girls from leaving here. You need to rest now, don't move. I won't bring you any harm."



тнe † ᴩrofane

Aug 10th 2019 14:02


Sending this so you don't get too comfortable thinking I'm gone or that you can actually enjoy your life.



Living 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝 Girl;

Aug 7th 2019 11:34


Hey, hey, youuuuu. Pick a number on the horror prompt thing from yesterday. I'm gonna take a cleaning break soon, and I'll write cha something ;] ×
† deмonologιѕт

Jul 27th 2019 22:53


My wife is...
LIGHTᵇʳᶦⁿᵍᵉʳ

Jul 26th 2019 04:24














                                               a concept.
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