Spreading the love

I’m reminded of the opening scenes of the exorcist; with the burning sun above, men sweating, busily digging and trolling a once ancient community, not knowing exactly what they’ll find. One can not blame them though, working to put food on the table for their family’s, how could they ever realize the evil they’d unearth.

On the outside it looked no different to all the other ancient manuscripts they’d found. Dusty, dank and decrepit the archeologist carefully brushed off the years of neglect. With cover in hand he could barely make out a single phrase, a name, written in an old English not used for decades were the words Negative Prick. A dread came over him, like death itself had come to visit and for a second he thought of leaving this dark, dusty diary in its long forgotten grave, for some things should never be unearthed. He shook his head, for he was a man of science and no superstitious nonsense would keep him from his job. He threw the diary in with the others and continued with his work.

The demon had been released …