Into the Void

By Sam Tankersley

Gorge your way into blood drenched tales of religious madness and descend into cosmic horror. Four tales which carve up characters, monsters, and worse from the farthest reaches of nightmare. The first follows Father Philip as he attempts to connect with a small town that doesn't know God, but his own knowledge is tested when a demon rises from the depths of the ocean to invade Father Philip's church and challenge him to a debate on the philosophical merits of God's existence. The second story follows Judas as he is cast into Hell and forced to wander its awful plains for eternity, until that is he stumbles upon an angel named James who has recently accidentally fallen. The two of them begin a journey through Hell and have to overcome massive abominations, creatures of death and flesh, and a horned Christ following them all the way, just to secure their way into the Imperishable realm. The third story chronicles Altagracia as she goes from prostitute to nun, and her first chance to make a real difference in the world is the restoration of an old and ruined church. Here she meets Father Amon, but all is not as it seems and soon Altagracia must face her own personal revelations. In the final story, a formerly popular writer named Thomas seeks personal redemption as he helps an old friend try to catch a religious zealot going around the South killing. What he doesn't know, is that his actions and their consequences may very well bring about the end of the world while connecting all four stories in one psychotic conclusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Nov 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667870724

Book preview

Book I: A Beloved, Worthless Sacrifice

Somewhere, in a warm and desolate place, a church stood near the Atlantic Ocean. Tropical trees shot up around here and there in front of the looming head of the church, night was fast approaching and the tide soon coming in. The once fresh and bright white walls of the church were now darkened by weathering from the storms, water, and painful existence of having been erected decades ago. The air was ripe with salt and freshness that somehow made for something altogether bitter. Even though at first glance, the combination of holy covenant and gorgeous scenery made for nothing short of paradise, there was a damning suffocation about it all. It was as if the bones of the church rotted with self-hatred, and the island resentful of the imposter’s presence. Even though it was the only church on the island, few in numbers consistently came. Not for lack of converts, for every man or woman believed in both good and evil and a higher power contorting their lives. Whether their beliefs lined up with Christianity was another matter altogether, but for certain they all made a trip to the church at some point through the year to try and make peace with whoever or whatever was listening. Among all this was a man, a man named Philip. Philip was younger, in his thirties, and Philip had spent his life yearning to be a man of the cloth. Since he was a boy his one and only desire was to serve God. He lost his sister at a young age and found comfort on his knees in front of the altar. He was a well built and handsome specimen, and his father and mother thought his good looks wasted on a life of celibacy. For Philip, there was no other life he would rather live. His devotion to his God and love for people had led him through life straight as an arrow, but even a straight arrow eventually falls back down to earth. Philip’s descent from his comfortable and happy existence began when he arrived on the island. The island’s name was something in the local language that would mean nothing to anyone reading this. Translated by local missionaries years ago, it meant something more along the lines of Forever He watches.

Philip was a replacement for the man who had served before him at the church. The former priest had died of his years, an old man ready for whatever came next. In this they had in common. Philip was excited at the prospect of being on an isolated island filled with people with reserves about their faith and the afterlife itself. The opportunity to become a part of the community and bring people to the cause made him ecstatic. Philip was special in that sense. Where many had become obsessed with their careers and abused the power of their position in the church for various reasons, Philip’s heart and desire were as golden as the garment’s he occasionally wore, depending on the feast day. He desired nothing more than to help people, make their lives easier, happier, and lessen their burdens. Through the church, he found this the easiest, and through God he believed he would be empowered to do so. Where most would see nothing but a trial for a young priest who had not yet proven himself, or even perhaps a punishment of sorts for any man looking to begin and advance his career, Philip saw nothing shy of angelic glory.

Philip’s first few days were met with disdain. The people of the island distrusted him, and while he was working on the local language, he soon realized the barrier between them was very real. It was undeniable this had not been the start to his career as a man of God as he had imagined in his head for all those years. However, where most would begin to feel contempt or anger creep its ugly heads into their heart, Philip was filled with that much more resolution. He stayed up late every night on his knees praying for guidance in the form of answers on how to proceed and every morning he woke up a little earlier to greet locals with a good morning and to see if he could assist in any friendly gestures around town. His dedication did not go unnoticed. While they still did not appreciate his presence and attempted involvement in their way of life, they respected his commitment to caring for them and the honest nature of his being. While they found much of him a fool, they likewise found the conviction to his own beliefs intoxicating. With every midnight prayer and every dawn start to the day, Philip became more and more content and happy with his life there. He found a joy indescribable with the simpler life of service. Most importantly however, he rejoiced endlessly in the little victories he was winning every other day with his unyielding love. A person who ignored him one day would say good morning the next, a group of boys who laughed at him brought him caught fish for lunch, and an older man who had scowled at his very presence attempted to strike up a conversation in hopes of improving Philip’s dialect. Slowly but surely, Philip was integrating himself into the community. Numbers at the church slowly began to rise. Soon there were people not just coming to Sunday services, but Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday. To him, this was the greatest accomplishment of his life. The church was setting down roots in a place they honestly had never cared or thought they could. Philip had found, in his own way, God. The inner peace and fulfillment he had been chasing his whole life was not just in front of him but all around. That is when the island decided it was time to take just that from him.

Philip had begun the day like any other. It was a hot day, a hot summer day in the blistering inferno of June. The constant onslaught of the sun combined with the immense humidity made life on the island especially hellish around this time. Though he did have internal disagreement with himself, he wore the full garments when going into town. Through sweat and some degree of self-inflicted torture, Philip smiled through the pain and made his way through the town being his friendly, shining example self that he was. You could see immaculate proof of goodness in the world through his pained and wet face. Even though he was quite miserable, Philip looked around at the people who once outright hated him. The smiles, waves, and acceptance to not just him but his message of the good word was finally coming to full completion. He had even performed a baptism on a young couple’s first-born son. They had made the patron saint over their child Thomas. There was nothing in this world that could take this pure jubilation from his heart, so of course something not from this world crawled its grotesque self from the pits of the sea to do it.

Philip had hung up his garments. He was cooling himself as the night air blew through the church. He took a sigh of relief as he thought over his day’s successes. Even on a day where not a second of it had been physically enjoyed, Philip found only the good when recollecting. He left his changing room and made his way to the altar where behind, the tabernacle stood. He looked at it and its golden beauty and smiled. Thinking only of his love for his lord. Philip stopped. A hand creeped up his intestines and grabbed his heart in a clenched fist. He felt his stomach do knots and his lungs shrivel up. He turned around. A sickness was in the air. He looked in the direction of the stained-glass stories frozen on the wall. Through them he could see the hammering down of rain. A truly barbaric storm had begun, but something was different. Storms had come and gone here, at this time and in this place of the world they were to be expected. Philip slowly made his way down the stairs in front of the altar. The grip on his heart and the short breaths that followed only got worse. He took a deep gulp of the saliva that had grown increasingly in his mouth. He became fearful. Fearful to breathe or swallow and at a certain point, even to take a step. He stopped halfway down the aisle. He was still trying to figure out what was going on not just around him but in him. This force he was feeling, this fear was more than just that. It was a physical and obvious pain that went beyond unusual. As a man of faith, Philip suspected something unnatural was going on, and while he dared not even want to think it, the thought of a supernatural cause to his problem did cross his clouded mind.

This is the Lord’s house, and any that would enter know he is here always. He spoke confidently, but behind the confidence hid the fear taking control of his spine.

Philip looked around him. All he could hear was the screeching of the wind and the pelting of the rain outside. Then suddenly, nothing. Philip’s attention shot back to the stained depictions of Christ’s journey to the cross. No longer was there a shadow of a storm behind them. The unnatural rain had vanished along with its hurricane winds as if it were nothing more than a morning due. Philip’s heart began to beat quicker. He had nothing but faith in the Lord and his protection, but fright had a hold on his mind, and it was running away with his reason.

Is… there someone here with me?

You are alone Philip, alone truly, a raspy and horrid voice echoed back.

The doors to the church slowly made their way open and behind them stood a figure of immense abomination. Philip was taken back. He stumbled backwards trying to understand what stood before him. It was a creature with a fish-like face, eyes all over its head, those eyes were of a sickly but bright green, and a long snout with protruding teeth. It wore a cloak-like gown with symbols on his shoulders. Beneath the gown were tentacles, long slimy, black, and green, and they coiled for ten or fifteen feet around him. His arms were long and bony with what appeared like scales covering them. At the end was a hand with three fingers, each containing a sharp blood red claw. He dropped a foul ooze that smelled of rotten fish and a sweet sea faring aurora. In one hand he carried a large book bound with a material he did not recognize. It was what appeared leather but black, and if he knew no better the book appeared to be bleeding.

I command you to tell me what you are and who you serve! Philip shouted.

At this moment the storm rained down once more and the doors slammed shut from the force of the watery ballistics behind them. The creature looked directly through Philip’s eyes and smiled a most wicked smile.

None you would know child. The beast laughed with a smirk.

Why do you come here? What do you have planned?

The beast slithered, edged, and crawled its way closer to Philip. Philip’s trust in the God he served and the house for which he stood empowered his courage enough so that he kept his ground. The beast came right up on him. It breathed down Philip’s face.

You stand without faltering, braver than the ass before you.

Do not speak ill of the dead, you vile thing.

The beast laughed and contorted its way to the altar, it stopped just in front of it.

That man was a coward through and through. He disgraced the values and order you so well follow. You call me a creature of vileness but at least to my coda I hold strong.

And what coda would that be?

The beast turned back to Philip.

One of chaos.

Philip looked him over in disgust. While he could never have hoped to understand what was before him, his eyes got used to the painful image he was having to process. Merely the look of it had hurt him and had strained his pupils.

I asked you once, why are you here?

The beast took a moment of silence. He looked at the stained image of Jesus being ridiculed in public.

This is my domain, this place here and around. I dwell in the abyssal of the sea. I collect knowledge of the worlds within. Because of my pursuit of knowledge, I cannot put up with those who bastardize it within my own walls.

‘What do you mean? None of that makes sense."

The beast arched itself back to Philip.

In this book are truths to this universe, truths your flesh has yet to even attempt to try and inquire about. I will not stand while people like you spread lies of existence as if they are universal truths. Your ignorance pollutes my waters.

So, you’re here to kill me then.

Not entirely. See, I am a being of knowledge and the greatest form of that is parley of ideas. I wish for you to try and prove your point to me.

"And what point of mine exactly are you wanting me to prove?

You speak on objectivity. That there are such things as good and evil, that there is a God looming over all. Prove to me even that same God you speak of falls on your definition of good.

You want me to debate my theology?

Yes, precisely. We can start at the foundation. How this being you worship is not good as you see it. Now, either you prove to me you’re right or you give in and admit I am right, and I will allow you to continue to be an embarrassment in this temple.

But?

But, if you do not yield your so-called truths and I am not convinced, then I will tear your being to shreds and drag your carcass down to the shadow of the ocean and feast on you like the narcissistic cattle you are.

Philip took a moment. He believed and trusted in his lord unendingly. However, morally was the right decision to concede to the demon to fight another day? A guaranteed ability to walk out of here and continue his work, but as a coward. How did he even know this creature was not lying?

How do I know you tell the truth? How do I know you will not kill me where I stand regardless of my choice?

The creature looked at him with disapproval.

My word means more than you could ever imagine. If you do not believe me, then that is your own problem and not mine.

Philip had not gotten the response he wanted. His world unraveled in a matter of moments. He knew he had no choice, but his mind stalled as the strength and courage from earlier was nowhere to be found. Not that he had become scared out of his mind, but that his worldview was rapidly expanding and even though it pained him to admit, doubt had entered his mind. The mere knowledge of the thing that had wandered in from whatever Hell he claimed to be from was more than enough to test his spiritual resolve. But no, Philip scorned himself internally for even allowing a moment of weakness. He would push forward for he knew no other path. Whether it be his own desire for the outcome or another, the higher will of who presided over his every waking moment would come to pass. Every second of his life had been spiraling towards this very moment. He knew that God himself was in question, and if not this the ultimate test to see if he really was a man of the cloth, and that the evil he had been combating his whole life laid in submission to God through him, then what else. Philip felt the darkness of the church and the island descend further into his chest. For the first time in his life, Philip had become unsure of where his life was going. The unknown terrified him.

Philip had taken out a table and set it up in front of the stairs to the altar. His mind raced at a speed to which he could not think straight. His body itself had gone into a mode of panic, with his heart out of his chest with pure adrenaline. At either end facing each other were a pair of old wooden chairs with cushions worn down to the wood itself. They almost mirrored Philip’s own discomfort towards the unimaginable situation. Philip wiped the sweat from his brow and again took a look at the netherworld humanoid standing before him.

Sit please, Philip said, trying to maintain any sense of composure.

The creature made its way to the seat and looked it over.

Is it not to your liking?

The beast almost chuckled.

You put more effort into my comfort than your predecessor, your meaningless gestures are somewhat admirable.

Philip slowly slid his own chair out. To him, every inch the chair came out felt almost an eternity. Once he sat down there was no going back. The gates to his own personal damnation officially sealed. While there was still a chance to run or even maybe put up some kind of fight, the moment he sat down he would be submitting to the foul thing’s debate. Logic dictated that running was of no use for getting around him would be near impossible with the creature being on the door’s side of the room. That left only fighting. While Philip favored himself as a strong man, this beast undoubtedly had hidden strength and God knows what else stirring and swimming in its awful veins. He couldn’t engage in a fight with something he didn’t understand. Therefore, he had no choice but to engage in this forced conversation and bet his life on words. He would sooner die than renounce his faith,

So, Philip began. If I am to spend this night conversing with you, may I know by what title you go by?

The creature took out his chair and positioned himself in it with a flexible ease that made Philip quite the opposite.

You ask for my name?

Yes, I am asking for your name.

The creature titled its head and looked over Philip. Philip kept still every muscle stiff as a bone ready for anything.

"You may call me, Belzagoth."

That is similar to another beast I am familiar with, Beelzebub. A Philistine god in league with Baal.

All legends have some root in truth, if there is such a thing.

Are you claiming to be he?

I claim nothing, as should you man of the cloth. Belzagoth hissed this with the utmost hate in his throat. Philip was taken back by the hostility, but he knew he had to be on his feet and tried his hardest to not think too much on the passive aggressive remark.

So are you here to disprove my faith or tell me my God is evil. Does he exist or not?

At this Belzagoth smiled through his nauseating face.

"First,