The Room Upstairs by Nasha Hooft

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Be forewarned, death is never the end!


Step after ominous step, Claudia sensed foreboding dread.  As she neared, sounds of scratching echoed down toward her spinning head.  At the top of the first ten foot flight, laid the room of doom.  A room so black, the eye had to squint to see what it might.

 Hidden within these walls, lay secrets never told to anyone at all. It was thought to hold nothing but a bed, to sleep your very weary head. Claudia knew what she must do, a séance she then said. “I will spend the night here, and call upon that which has long been dead.”

“Oh moon, shining so bright, may I call on you tonight?”

Candles flickering, sending dancing shadows aflight. Winds howling, creating shivers of fright. Moans screaming in the night. Claudia then said “All right, it’s time to call upon you Azazel, as it is my God-given  right.  Guard my soul, and hold mine tight”.


Day and night, night and day, poor George felt the stares from far and away.  Two big globes of eyes he’d say, could scare even death to wake.  He sat upon his red velvet chair, surrounded by the fog rolling in with the night air.

Screams of a young girl he heard; chants of young children to be sure.  “Who lay her head upon my bed; who dares to wake this old man?” He said.


Fallen Angel, art of warfare and teacher of witchcraft was he. Doomed to spend his time chained to the rough and jagged rocks of Duduael for eternity. Summoned by she, Claudia had known whom was he.

“You dare call on me? Have you no sense Addressee? I will shred your skin, chew on your bones or simply posses your soul, you see. Neither bound by your spell nor trapped in your hell, you will not receive help from me.”

Suddenly a strange thought occurred to Azazel. She was but five, this curly blond blued eyed child. Where had she learned the spell to raise the dead from the depths of hell?  Could it be that she is no child of earth at all, but rather another demon that crawl?

“Who are you child so small? How is it that you call on me at all?”


George heard the sounds of two, neither voice anew. Seeing nothing, hearing all, helplessness to him befall.  Chills creep over George, a sense of confusion he protests. “Could it be she?” He, in the hopes confess.


Claudia walked toward the demon, her head raised and a smirk across her pale face. “I am but a young child; nothing more, nothing less. Simply a child that has been laid to rest. I will tell you a story, then maybe you can guess.”

“Long ago, within these here halls, a child and her father lived; until one dark night a tragedy falls. A young girl, no more the five, sick with fever, no longer able to survive. Her father torn apart, not able to restart, his heart broken, he said the words never to be spoken.”

200 Years Ago

“Claudia, my darling daughter, I cannot put out the fire you feel, nor can I help you heal. The doctors say it is the rat fever that you posses, that I will need to leave before you are laid to rest. My tears do not help take this pain away, my heart in a thousand pieces floating far away.” George wept as his daughter struggled to take her next aching breath.

One so young, a life not yet lived, her searing death assured; if only her father could find the cure. A story once told by his wife long ago, of an Angel fallen, a witch’s spell to bring back that which has been sentenced to hell.

No longer able to bear the pain of his loss, he was reminded of the words and their cost.  “ Azazel, hear my voice, I call upon you with no choice.  My wish is clear, I need my sweet daughter here. Take my life in her place, save her from the horrors of this rat infested space. My life, my will yours for eternity. Whatever your need for sacrifice, my soul should suffice. I beg of thee!”


Laughing as the story was recounted. He had indeed remembered this young girl and her father’s foolish belief unfounded. He had certainly come as he was called, but not to save the girl at all. What the father had not understood, was the sacrifice needed to call on one so old; he had never been told.

“Your father needed to pay the price. The price was his pathetic life. Had he not dabbled in the occults, rather learned the witch’s ways, he may have understood that two must pay.” Azazel stopped to smile, if only for a short while.  “That night, you were but dead. Laying still, no breath, blood flowing freely from your head; while your father sobbed silently by your bed.  I did so take pleasure in devouring his bones, his skin shirking, his screams filling the halls.

“I beseech you; why do you the call on me now? Perhaps revenge is your quest. I must admit, I am impressed!”


“Look into the mirror; what do you see? I will tell you; you are naive! I have taken over the soul of She.  Once, long ago, we rose above all that you see; we played in the gardens of eve. Together, it was you and me. Sons of God, brothers to all, until that fateful day, you posed me to fall.” A deep sigh accompanied by a cry. “My wings were torn, my shame born. I fell from grace that day, only to hear you say ‘life here is for oneself; it no longer matters, there is no one to help’.”

“Do you see the pain and shame you have brought on me? The lies you told, the promises you made, only to betray. What brother are thee, to sing of worlds beyond, praise Satan’s song, only then to flee. I have been lost in the seas of misery, never again to enter the Heavens’ for eternity.”

A loud laugh arose from Azazels’ lips. “Oh! I see, it is you foolish brother, Eclipse. It is true what you say. However I do pray, what is on your mind this day?

A silent moment passes, as these next words turn Azazel to ashes.

“Azazel, my brother no more, I am here to even the score. For the troubles you have caused these two souls; the lives you have taken untold. For all the evils you have done, I have mended one by one. You must pay, for your wicked, wicked way. On this day, send thee back to whence thee once came. Locked forever more with the rocks and chains. As these words be spoken, never are they to be broken.”

“So mote it be!”


Child, your father is now free. Go to him now and roam the Heavens’ as it should be. I beg thee one favour; tell thee our saviour of the good deeds I have done; though I am certain he has heard all that I have sung.

It should be said, the father and child live happily, though they are dead!

This story has been told, the moral of which a brothers betrayal unfold.

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