Friday, April 12, 2019

The Medusa Ritual - Installment 11




The Medusa Ritual
A Pierce Mostyn Paranormal Investigation
by
CW Hawes


A strange story about a Chinese immigrant, a powerful wizard, mysterious happenings in Chinatown, a man who perhaps never dies, and an act of God, or maybe the Devil, that silences a man of God.
Read on! The adventure continues!



12


While Mostyn was examining platt books and learning about the old LA subway and the other tunnels beneath Los Angeles, Jones and Dr Hammerschmidt drove to the north end of Chinatown. Their first stop was the Chinese Catholic Church.
“Why are we stopping here?” Hammerschmidt asked.
“Because it’s this way, Harbin, priests and ministers know a lot about the community. They circulate, visit people, people tell them things they wouldn’t dream of telling anyone else. I’ll be very surprised if we don’t get something of value from Father Paul Chang.”
Jones and the chemist walked into the church. The lighting was dim, and the cool air felt good, for the day was promising to be a hot one. The men scanned the interior looking for a sign indicating where they would find the office. 
“Why don’t we try that door,” Hammerschmidt said, pointing to a door off to the side of the altar.
“Sure, why not?”
The men walked over to the door, and Jones opened it. There was a smallish room with a door leading outside, and two other doors, one of which was marked “Office”.
Jones walked over to the door marked “Office”, and opened it.
A young Chinese woman looked up, smiled, and asked how she might help them.
“We’d like to talk to Father Chang,” Jones said.
“I’m sorry. He’s at prayers right now.”
Jones held up his ID for her to see. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but it’s important that we see him now.”
The young woman looked from the ID to Jones, her face clouded with fear.
“You don’t have to worry,” Jones assured her. “We are not here because the church did anything wrong.”
She breathed a sigh of relief, and stood. “I’ll tell him you’re here. Please have a seat.” She left, and the OUP agents, masquerading as agents of the IRS, sat in the hard plastic chairs.
After a few minutes she returned and told them the priest would see them in his office, which was the room next door. Jones thanked her, and he and Hammerschmidt left.
Jones knocked on the door for the priest’s office, and when a voice said, “Come in”, he opened the door and walked in, with Hammerschmidt following.
“I’m Father Chang. How may I help you?”
Jones answered, “We’re looking for a rare book. Has anyone in your parish seen or heard about a rare book?”
“What kind of book?” the priest asked.
“The kind your church would have burned back in the Middle Ages,” Jones replied.
“Some kind of book on sorcery?”
“You could say that,” Jones said.
The priest thought a moment before speaking, and when he did start speaking he glanced at the crucifix hanging on the wall.
“I hear lots of stories. Most of them are routine and mundane. Some, though, are quite unusual. Those said in the confessional are said with the understanding that they are confidential.”
Jones said, “I understand.”
“Several weeks ago, an old man told me his grandson was involved with a great lord, the grandson had bragged that things were going to start changing soon because the great lord had a book that gave him tremendous power, and that he, the grandson, was going to be an important man.”
“Did the grandson say where the book was?” Hammerschmidt asked.
The priest shook his head, and looked at Hammerschmidt. “No. Just that it was in a safe location deep underground.”
“Did he say anything else about this book?” Jones asked.
“No. He was more concerned about how to protect his grandson from the evil forces he thought were at work.”
“What kind of evil forces?” Jones asked.
“Demonic powers.”
Jones nodded, while Hammerschmidt asked the priest if he believed in demons.
“I do,” Chang replied. “There is good and there is evil in the world. God the Father and our Lord Jesus Christ,” the priest crossed himself, “will have the ultimate victory. In the meantime, I believe the words of scripture: the devil goes about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour.”
“Do you have any idea who this ‘great lord’ might be?” Jones asked.
“There is a legend,” Chang began, “that a young Chinese man came to America in the eighteen seventies. This young man’s name was Wing Lee and he had been a powerful wizard in China. His downfall came about because he was arrogant. He challenged an older wizard to a duel and lost. Wing Lee fled China and came to America under the Burlingame Treaty. He worked as a coolie building the levees here in California.
“Around eighteen eighty, he was working as a scab and got involved in a race riot, where it is said his face was disfigured. He took to wearing a mask to hide the disfigurement and eventually he came to Los Angeles and set up a tea and herb store with the money he’d saved. His business began to thrive and he married.”
“Sounds like a typical immigrant story,” Jones said.
Father Chang nodded. “Yes, it does. However, Wing Lee’s wife was very young. After she bore him four sons and two daughters, she left him for a rich white man. Wing Lee was devastated and vowed revenge. It is said, he returned to sorcery and through magic eventually gained control of Chinatown and a large portion of the valley.”
“And what does this story have to do with the ‘great lord’?” Hammerschmidt asked.
“It is rumored that Wing Lee still lives and that he is the ‘great lord’.”
“That should be easy enough to disapprove,” Jones said. “After all he should be dead by now.”
The priest nodded. “Should be. But Wing Lee disappeared shortly before World War One. There is no death certificate. Many Chinese believe he is still alive. They say he has prolonged his life by means of blasphemous rituals. And that he will eventually destroy the white man for stealing his wife.”
Jones raised his eyebrows.
Hammerschmidt asked, “Are there any photographs of Wing Lee?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Chang replied.
“Is the family still here?” Jones asked.
“They are,” Chang said, “but they are very secretive. No one has knowingly seen them in decades.”
“So who is the old man’s grandson involved with?” Jones asked.
Father Chang shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Jones stood and Hammerschmidt followed. “Thank you for your time, Father.”
“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Jones replied. “You’ve been very helpful.”
Jones and Hammerschmidt walked outside.
“Where did the sun go?” Jones asked, for the sky was covered with dark gray and black clouds.
Hammerschmidt pointed. “Look at that vortex. Looks like a tornado is forming.”
“It sure as hell does,” Jones said. “Come on, let’s get to the car.” He took out his phone to make sure the conversation had been recorded. Noticing that it had, he put the phone back in his pocket, and ran over to the car. He unlocked it and got in, the chemist right behind him.
The two watched the wind pick up debris from the streets and carry it up into the air.
“That vortex is heading right for the church,” Hammerschmidt said.
“Kind of weird, isn’t it?”
“I think so.”
When the vortex was over the church, the two OUP operatives watched a swirling cone descend out of the vortex. They watched the rotating black funnel rip up roof tiles, as though it was a giant drill tearing a hole into the building. And then the funnel withdrew into the swirling black vortex.
In a matter of just a couple minutes, the black and gray clouds disappeared, and were replaced by blue sky and a thin sheet of cirrostratus clouds.
“What the hell did we just see?” Hammerschmidt said.
“I don’t know, but we’d better check out the church.”
The two men got out of the car, ran over to the church, and entered the building. There was no damage to the sanctuary. They walked back to the office area. There they saw a circular hole in the roof and nothing but debris and litter where are the two offices had been.



To Be Continued!




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“…a weird tale of adventure, humor, and horror.”




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The Medusa Ritual is copyright © 2019 by CW Hawes. All rights reserved.

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