Dominant Spirit Ch. 01

I have a passion for history, historic places and old homes, I became an environmental consultant several years ago based on my knowledge of buildings and experience with structure and extensive mechanical aptitude. Basically I was a Private Building Inspector, kind of a detective of sorts, generally hired by an individual or corporation interested in purchasing a piece of property.

Occasionally older homes would come up for inspection, when ever I had the opportunity to go out and do a complete Environmental and Construction Inspection Survey on one, I was in my glory. Though usually I ended up with old factories and warehouses, dangerous sites that required protective equipment and extensive sampling and laboratory analysis to identify hazardous materials and develop risk assessment and documentation.

It required in some cases hours of tedious document searching in the local libraries and county record's offices to track and record uses and ownership, as well as physically inspecting the actual site. Some jobs lasted months as the factories in Western New York downsized or just closed up, leaving an environmental mess behind.

I preferred inspecting places that had a more human history, like schools and homes but once in a while truly frightening places came up for inspection, like long abandoned buildings, schools, prisons, and hospitals, the worst places were the mental institutions. Places of extreme human suffering and death seemed to hold onto the essence of the fears, anxiety and in some cases horrifying insanity.

It was late October and work usually slacked off as winter approached, this year was going to be exceptionally slow. I had nothing on my schedule until March, so I spent the day visiting with past clients in hopes of drumming up a little business with out a lot of success and headed for home.

I was just getting to the door when the phone rang, I fumbled with my keys and franticly tried to unlock the door before the answering machine picked up. But as the key slid into the slot I noticed that the phone rang 4 times, then again. Strange, it normally picked up on the 3rd ring. I picked it up on the 6th ring and said "hello".

A woman's very sexy whispery voice answered she had a proper quality to her speech, almost an English accent, she introduced herself as Sarah Ingals, from a small town upstate, along the St. Laurence seaway. We discussed my services and scheduling availability before she went into describing the job she wanted done. This job was a dream job! The property was actually located in the Thousand Island area and was in fact a 10 acre island that had just come up for public sale.

We agreed on a three week time frame and on my fee, which I was surprised when she seemed anxious to accept the price, even though I explained it was an estimate based on the worst case scenario. She went on to offer me an extra thousand, up front if I could get started ASAP, tomorrow if at all possible.

My schedule is mine to determine and as I had nothing really to do for the next month or more I agreed I'd meet her at around 4pm the next day, she gave me an address to what I assumed was her office, and politely said goodbye and hung up.

I spent most of the evening preparing my equipment and my van, an older conversion van that served as transportation, site office and my home away from home. I kept it stocked and ready for extended out of town jobs like this so it didn't take long. I did a little research on the internet as to where I could stay, where the records offices and library were locally, and where to rent a boat to get out to the island. There wasn't much there to find on that part of New York, but I had been out that way several times in the past so I wasn't too concerned. Though renting a boat or hiring some one to take me out to the island might present a problem.

I couldn't sleep and tomorrow being Friday I decided to take off tonight and get started on the research before I met with Sarah at 4pm. It was a fairly long ride that always made me wonder about the validity of the comments some of my environmentalist associates often made regarding over population and man's expansion into the "shrinking wilderness", New York is huge! With miles of nothingness between cities like Buffalo and Rochester. There was even less the further north you drove.

I arrived in the area about 4 in the morning and parked at the local library, the highway had taken its toll on me so I climbed into the back of my van and took a short nap, waking up at about 9am when the librarian parked her car near my van. I cleaned my self up, shaved and put on a fresh shirt, and my jacket.

Hoping I didn't look as if I had slept in a van. I went in and spoke to the librarian, an attractive older lady, who directed me to the reference section, where the information I'd asked for was kept. She went back to her work as I began searching through the old record books and taking notes. After several hours I had compiled quite an interesting history of "Brig Isle" it had first been occupied by a British naval officer by the name of Brigs, who had built a large home there before the revolutionary war. During the war the island was used as an British armory and prison for locally captured colonial soldiers and sailors, taken by the British .

Clearly the island gained its name naturally, being owned by the Brigs family and having been used as a "brig" or prison seemed to me to be the perfect name. The English had maintained possession of the island and continued to hold prisoners there until well after the war of 1812 .

In 1815 it was deeded back to the Brigs family who occupied the island for generations until 1956 when the last member, a reclusive woman by the name of Sarah Ingal Brigs, who was found dead by local fishermen. This caught my eye immediately.

What a curious coincidence I thought, that I would get a call from some one with nearly the same name as the last known resident owner. They couldn't be related could they? Sarah had told me on the phone, there were no surviving family members, it had to a coincidence and nothing more, surely she would have known if she was related to the previous owners, the information was too easily available.

The afternoon had flown by and at about 3:30 I returned all the record books to their proper shelf and whispered goodbye to the librarian who smiled and said she hoped I'd found everything I needed and to come back if I needed more information.

I went back to my van and drove over to the address that I had gotten from Sarah over the phone. I parked in the driveway of a real estate office that occupied a small cottage like house, and went in.

I introduced myself to the lady who greeted me and I asked to see Sarah.

The lady was well in her 60's and wore way too much makeup, she looked at me with a puzzled expression. "I don't know who Sarah is but I did find this envelope in my mail box this morning" she said to me as she shuffled through a stack of mail. I smiled repressing the urge to snicker at her trowel-ed on face paint, "oh yes, here it is, it's addressed to you sir" she continued as she handed me the yellowed overstuffed envelope. I thanked her and briefly examined it before I shoved the envelope into my jacket pocket, as she went on to say, "like I said, I don't know who "Sarah" is but she does have some fancy handwriting doesn't she? I almost couldn't read it".

I had noticed the fancy script on the envelope and nodded my head "it is fancy" I replied, and went on to ask the realtor about the island, and if she knew anything more than I'd already discovered.

At first she seemed surprised by my request, she thought silently for a few seconds looking at me with an incredulous almost "how dare I ask" stare. She started talking in a slow school teacher manner and briefly verified some of the history I had already found out on my own.

Then she took me by surprise saying " I don't know if you believe in ghost's sir, or if you've ever heard the term "succubus"..., but I have heard things about that island".

It has more than a just few stories attached to it, and it actually is a big part of the local folklore. Most folks who know about it though, wouldn't go out there on a bet!"

I interrupted her saying "do you mind if I record our conversation? Placing a small recorder on her desk. She nodded and I turned it on , and asked her "What do you know about Brig Isle? " she took on her story tellers attitude again and began telling me her version of history.

"Well,...Lights have been seen on occasion, people have heard voices and screams coming across the water from that island. To the best of my knowledge no one has been out there since the old lady was found on the front porch, by two locals who were fishing near there.

They said they heard some one calling them ashore and told of hearing voices leading them to the house where they found "her", sitting on the porch. "Who was that?" I asked. The old lady who lived out there, Mrs. Brigs, or Miss. Brigs, it was never quite determined, whether she ever married.

She had been dead for some time and was no more than a naked mummy! A grotesque skeleton with pale gray green skin stretched over it and long white hair. She was found on the front porch, sitting on a rocking chair.

They claimed the chair was rocking, and that as they got close the head turned toward them and glared down at them from its perch on the porch with empty eye sockets! Both men swore the corpse moved on its own! Staring down at them it raised an emaciated arm as if pleading and beckoning them to come to her.

They both claimed that something followed them home from there and neither man slept well afterwards, and went to early graves swearing the tale was true! I believe the stories sir, the two fisherman were my father and his brother, my uncle. But, anyway..., they ran back to their boat and called the police as soon as they got home.

The sheriff went out the next day with a coroner, they examined the body and actually buried her out there. The house was sealed and so were the files regarding the sheriffs investigation. The sheriff and the coroner, were both dead within a week after burying her. The story is that she was old, very old! Some say she was way over 100.

"And the succubus? What would that be?" I asked.

"Not what sir, She IS!" she replied ominously, and continued saying, "A succubus is a female dream demon and incubus is a male sex demon. I believe they were most popular in the Victorian age when all things occult were in fashion. But their history goes much further back in time.

I don't recommend you calling on these spirits sir, as they are not really beings or energies which are constructive. They are the most vile and wicked of creatures! They sustain them selves with sexual encounters with humans!"

This sexual aspects intrigued me, and gave me kind of a rush as I asked her, "Creatures? I thought you said they were spirits?".

"In medieval European folklore," she began, as if annoyed at my interruption, as she looked over the top of her glasses and continued her story " as I was saying, the incubus is a male demon or spirit. While a succubus is female. They at first will visit men and women in their sleep, invading their dreams, pandering, taunting and teasing them erotically. Using the dreams and desires of the human for sexual intercourse as an open door. Creating a conscious desire to summon them into reality. In some cases the spirit can manifest it self outside the dream and may even take on some of the roles common to an actual living lover. Acting as a wife or husband and appearing as human as you or I, and to others as well. Living among us! Visibly invisible! But its their diet that gives them away. Some feast on men and there are those that feed on women the strongest feed on both.

I don't believe in demons, but I do believe some spirits can manifest in this way and cause the same effects. They are spirits, but they can take physical human form, if they are summoned properly!"

"How would one do that?" I asked her. Thinking to myself, if she had a foreign accent, silk robe and a crystal ball, with that Tammy-Fey make up job, I'd swear I was at a gypsy fortune tellers booth at the fair. Or in a scene out of an old black and white horror movie. Instead of a real estate office!

"If you wish...," she began, ..."I'll tell you, but I take no responsibility in telling you this! You could just as well read about it yourself anyway. But don't try it, as I know admonishing you not to, will only encourage you to try, but you must not! People are drawn to those things they are forbidden!

These are old spirits, their knowledge is ancient, and they use sex to lure a host and endear themselves, creating a hunger and desire that their mortal hosts find nearly impossible to break free from.

These spirits don't generally "attack" or "rape" their partners unless that is what the person secretly wants from them. Though it does happen, it's the rarest of the rare. Most encounters are a result of the living person's strong desire, loneliness or focused fantasies. The intense emotions, the incredible concentration, the wishing for someone to be there, act like a summoning spell!

Most times these encounters are just the fulfillment of those desperate wishes, and the spirit moves on when the person stops paying attention to it, or when their tastes change.

But there have been cases where the spirit is too dominant and can totally overpower a human host, if the host doesn't know how to banish the spirit, or protect themselves! Especially if the host falls in love with it!

The spirit can use the emotions of their host to cuckold and humiliate them or imprison them and take what they need to exist through pain and torture. Keeping the host alive or even replacing them with another, or several to satisfy their own wicked needs!

While I know of how to summon them, I am by no means encouraging you to try it! Especially not while you are anywhere near that island!" Her warning was stern, and she continued with the instructions.

"summoning and banishing can only be done during the new moon. That's when the moon's un-illuminated side is facing the Earth. The Moon is not visible and they are the darkest of nights! Shadows blend with shadows and darkness abounds!

Clearly mark the floor with a white chord or chalk with the sign of a pentagram and take 3 black candles and place them equidistant apart. Outside the circle, have 3 more candles and several protective talismans or sigils around you. Also, if possible, create an outer circle made from crushed protective herbs mixed together. These are common herbs that grow wild in these parts.

Calm yourself and relax. Center yourself. Now, visualize the circle around you, protecting you and separating you from the rest of your house. This is essential to keep the spirit from attaching itself to the property. Once you have done that, and the candles are lit, lay naked in the pentagram, position yourself with arms straight out, and your legs apart, and summon the succubus, I suggest this over an incubus because of the different nature of a succubus over an incubus.

Feel her come into the circle and feel her power. Feel her coalesce into a physical, or semi physical form and now you'll be able to interact with her. She should be easier to invoke and banish than an Incubus and I suggest a successful encounter with her be followed by a successful banishment of her before attempting the more aggressive Incubus.

Never summon both simultaneously! They can be extremely difficult to banish together if they are allowed to exist too long together in the physical realm, and they can be overpowering to mortals as a couple!