Kellymoon69

  According to the book, when a spirit chooses to take up residence in a body or home, it produces rge amounts of cursed energy to make the pce more amiable to its preferences in a habitat. I closed my book and looked up at the house, smoke pouring out of every possible angle imaginable. All is sending up into the sky. This is some chain smoker's life goal. I then take a minute to admire the mailbox. I pull up the text message on my phone from the ndlord address matches I put it on my phone and let out a huge sigh.

  I rang the doorbell, waiting for someone to answer after an hour. A ragged man with baggy eyes and messy hair, and he dresses professionally and not professionally enough. His tie is hanging, as low as it could possibly go; this shirt's not even buttoned up. I could see his T-shirt. I tried to be professional. I showed him the ndlord's text and expined why I was there. The Man looks at me with a curious expression, but his outward dispy shows that he's giving up hope that I will be able to help him.

  From what he told me, the client is his daughter. Supposedly, what happened was that she and some friends were hanging out where they weren't supposed to be and witnessed some exorcist exercising a demon of sorts. I made a mental note to check the book about demons and see if this is something I should probably be on the lookout for. Anyway, as I was reveling in my concerns about the demons, apparently, her presence may or may not have interfered with the ritual, and the demon escaped into her.

  He brings me into the girl's room where I see a writhing Mass of flesh. At some point, her eyes would shift from the back of her head to the front of her head. Her mouth keeps trying to stretch further than it should. Her hands keep dislocating and relocating while expanding rapidly, trying to reach the floor. Her foot looks like she's experiencing diabetes. Dare I say more?

  I asked him why he hasn't sought out a doctor. A. Biohazard disposal expert. Pretty sure I saw this on a zombie game. We tried everything except for the biohazard. But why would you see someone mutating? Then again, that is her daughter. I should stop insulting her by focusing back. All the exorcist and doctors tried everything but couldn't get any results. From what everyone is saying, she's dying.

  Which expins why he looks so disheveled. His daughter may or may not be on her deathbed, and he feels that the least he can do as a parent is to see her to the end. He's a commendable guy; my parents could learn something from him. If I contracted a deadly disease, they would sue me for exposing them to danger. They did that three times. They only stopped doing it after. The court said that if they tried again, they'd be jailed for wasting government resources.

  I try to get closer to the girl to see what I'm working with and inspect her more closely. I can start seeing where the curse begins and where she ends. Although the line is starting to blur more and more, the bck smoke I'm seeing all around seems to be emitting from the gaps at which the spirit is beginning to exert itself. I pull out the book to see what I can do about it.

  This one page says that shaman's fine spirits who dispy physical change in a subject. More amicable to possess someone more willing. I think it means faster results for spreading its curse. Of course, it also says that being too willing could lead one to their death. I wonder how you can gauge a person's willingness judging from the girl's results. She's either very unwilling or very willing, considering she's very close to death.

  If it's like the weird older Man they sealed into the rock, I should be able to steal The possession and maybe mitigate it if I pce it in one of the pockets. According to Yosuke, the old Man affected everything because I didn't expect to be stealing a possession and therefore didn't put him in the pocket and as such, I stole as Christ energy. He just hopped along the free ride and took up space almost back. In other words, I was in over my head.

  Not wanting to be unprofessional. I don't tell him. I think I can cure his daughter instead. I give him a thumbs up, then hold out my hand and steal away the cursed energy to start peeling off the flesh demon. Of course, I immediately began to resist. He's attached to her like a leech using that cursed energy as an adhesive, but the more of the cursed energy, the less resistance it provides. Eventually, it starts peeling off like a weird Hollywood makeup trick. The odd fsh starts to maneuver around her and wraps onto my arm. It was so gross. I almost stopped doing it to run to the bathroom and heave up. Seriously, the amount of moisture on it is ungodly.

  When the mutated fsh starts to reach the first ring of my three-ring tattoo exposed on my arm, it starts to slip into the tattoo as if the bck mark is just a space for our things to be bestowed. More and more of it goes into it, eventually. The only thing left on the bed is an ashen and very unconscious girl. Lucky for me, her hands are not broken, or at least not as far as I can tell.

  I tried to assure the Man that his daughter would be fine, but before I could get the words out, my hands started to sprout a mouth through the Man, of course. I would have also been thrown off and had the same surprised face if not for the fact that I was expecting something to stop him since the older Man and all. But I became speechless until I remembered what Pops always told me. You never want to show the client you're ill-prepared, even when things are falling apart. You've got to make it look like this is a normal part of the process, so say these words.

  I look at the Man and say Don't worry about that. This is perfectly normal, and then I point out a bag I brought in. I had gathered some shaman items that I found in the box stuffed in the wall and put them inside a tool bag because it makes me look a bit more like I know what I'm doing. I gestured for him to bring over the tool bag so that I could get the item that could solve the problem. He acts a bit nervous too and is very uncomfortable while he brings the bag over, keeping as much distance from the hand as possible.

  I rummage through the bag while ughing at a comical level and bsing at how this happens all the time, considering this is my first potential client and that I'm always preparing for these things even though I'm not. I'm lucky enough to be carrying the item that I need. I pull out a roll of bandage wraps that I was practicing this new future I got from the book. There was some special ink that was infused with Christianity. You can use it to seal things away or repel things that are accursed, one of the two, or both. I should test out both parts.

  The angry talking hand of mine and the bandages which cause it to scream and throw itself around in a panic. The Man said stuff freak out even more but desert screen. He backs away very quickly against the wall. Almost hitting with the light switch. Of course, by that time, the hand started to try choke me and mind out my throat. Considering how cold it is, it's a good thing I wore a turtleneck today, but he was dedicated to biting out my throat. But once I finish wrapping up my hand, I can take back control of it. The hand didn't disappear, though. It started cursing profusely and swearing to massacre my firstborn child and then the rest of my extended family. Okay, I'm sure that doesn't bother me, excluding Grandpa; he's all right.

  Giving things right now and going south before something even worse happens, like my body's starting to sprout wings. I decide to bail. I told the man that he should contact my ndlord, who would contact me should anything happen. Otherwise, I'll check back in about a month once she has recovered.

  The next day…..

  You have to love soup for breakfast. It's the best, nice and warm, with plenty of vegetables. Strong broth has tons of intricacies within it. Sometimes, it's pasta. Sometimes, it's rice. Heck, sometimes, instead of a clear broth, you get a thick milky broth substance. That's always good, and of course, nothing says good morning like two bowls, one for me and one for my very sentient hand.

  Yeah, I haven't dealt with a flesh Spirit yet. Not that I can. I have no clue how to get rid of it. The book is rather rge, and I've been skimming through it all night to try and figure out how I'm supposed to get rid of something this strong, but I haven't found anything yet.

  Well, I'm enjoying my soup breakfast with my unwilling, cursed arm companion's apprehensive expression. A literal ghost is judging me. How weird can life get?

  At first, I was contempting letting things be for now. At the same time, I work out how to steal this guy until he points out to me that I can't continue my massage business when one of the tools for the trade just so happens to be capable of licking, cursing, or even consuming my clients. Not exactly a good luck,, and I was starting to think that I had a good trademark passive income while I do whatever. The ndlord thinks I do what he's convinced I'm capable of. Not sure if he knows about the gold ghost thing or if he assumes that I'm capable of handling weird stuff. I'm more or less gearing towards the dder.

  I checked my phone. There was no response from the ndlord, which means I'm probably not clear about the job yet. I'm halfway through my bowl of chicken noodle soup and pull out the book to see if I can figure something out about this ghost thing you're looking for. I really should work in his book of shaman tricks. Is the thing about using containers to seal them? I have most of the materials in the house, supposedly from White. No, stay saying there's a bunch of other hidden spots around the temple that the bck priests would use to hide the more dangerous stuff from the young acolytes.

  The problem is getting the ghost to go in the jar. He's pretty chill now, but the problem is that he's only chill because he knows there's not much else he can do right now. I'm 50% certain. He's just biting his time until his cursed energy surpasses the level of cursed energy on the bandages themselves, which could be any day now. Yosuke says that curse energy only gets better with time, but that ink smelts stale, and I'm not willing to bet that it's high-quality cursed ink. As I read over the jar trap, I flipped to one page expining how to use a specific bait to lure them in and accidentally put too many pages ahead, leading to an interestingly weird drum ritual.

  According to the book, back in old times, the shamans would py the drums to lower the guards of the spirits into being sealed. I contempted doing that in my case, but I don't know how reliable it is if I'm trying to trick it to get into a jar. This reminds me of something Pop's would talk about. When he and his friends were bored, they would try to make rice wine for fun but never had enough lids. To repce it, they would use thick wax paper and estic bands. The wax paper was so thick he would py them like bongos. I stopped in the middle of my reminiscing.

  I had the craziest idea—and it was a good idea. I texted Pops about it, and he was so hyped that he and his friends drove down to help me out. The best part about living in a temple in the middle of nowhere is FREE forest real estate. All I have to do is walk a couple of paces from home to find a peak spot for a campfire.

  When Pops and his friend came, I gave them the grand tour of my pce. They all said they didn't get the How Temple lifestyle but approved of having a big home to myself. Pops especially approved and said I should invite Gramps over. I told him I would when I finally got the pce together.

  After the tour, I took them out into the woods to the spot I picked. Pops knows about my arm and the type of work I'm doing. He didn't even judge; he just said, "Man's gotta do what he's gotta do". The pn is simple: we will get wasted during a drumming party around a campfire. The book says it is a ritual if you do it with your heart and soul. If i get pstered and drum with everything i got, i could force the spirit into the drum.

  Before we got started, Pops had us all wear Happi coats and headbands. I asked him why he said, "Go hard or go home." This Man really loves his sayings.

  An hour of pying ter……

  We have been going for a while now. We have been drinking so hard that none of us could be called simply drunk, and our drumming has turned into a game of stamina. We are not trying to see who can drum the fastest or the hardest; it's all about maintaining the most prolonged beat. I don't know if it's the alcohol or the camp fire; maybe it's the fact we have been drumming for almost two hours straight. All i know is i feel the passion, and I love it. The sweat, the booze, and the night's cool air is the best. Also, the spirit is in the is in the drum he entered 30 mins after we started i guess the wine i put in helped so mission accomplished i guess. I take another swig and continue drumming.

  Kellymoon69