The GERASENE DEMONIAC of LUKE 8 [part 5]

A Biblical short story by JQuisumbing

Click here to read – Part 4

continued…

“Can this hovel be the place?” The father asked their guide. The house was no more than a dilapidated shack in the edge of a forest miles from the nearest village. Though it was in shambles, there were signs of habitation.

“Oh yes, witch be there! But me no go near. You go… you go.”

Demacli was feeling a little better. The voices were not so overwhelming since they left the village they were lodging in in the coastal region of Sidon in Phoenicia for almost a week looking for this elusive priestess.

He and his father got off the horses they were riding. The guide took the reins of the horses and rode a short distance away to wait for them. Together, they approached the shack and when they got close enough. His father placed a hand on Demacli’s arm to signal a halt.

Then, he called out, “We seek the prophetess of Hermes. We seek her aid.”

No answer came but Demacli noticed at a window a torn curtain move. Clearly, someone was in there.

“My son needs your help. I have silver to offer.”

They waited outside for several minutes, then suddenly the door opened and a feminine voice said, “Come in.”

Demacli was expecting to see an old crone but to his surprise, they were met by a beautiful woman. She was not young but still beautiful.

“I am Elpida. What made you seek me? I am no longer a prophetess. Since I was cast out of Greece and returned home here where I was born, I have been branded a witch because I heal the poor with my poultices and potions.”

“Then, it is your healing that we seek,” said the father. He told her all of Demacli’s condition.

She had Demacli sit before her. She took his head and cupped his face with her hands. She looked into his eyes for what seem the longest time.

“I have come across this before,” she sadly said as she sat back rubbing her face like she was tired. “This is not the work of the goddess of mischief. This is much older… even older than our gods.”

“What can we do?” asked the father.

“I cannot help you. All I can say is that in time, the spirits that dwell in you will eventually take control of you. You will be capable of doing despicable things but it will not be you. It will be them. There is more. These spirits are evil and they are spiteful toward us who walk this world. Legend says they were once favored but then, because of the evil done by their leader, they were cast down here on the earth never to return. They will torment you. Those evil things that you will do, you will be aware of it and it will drive you mad.”

Again the father asked, “Is there no hope for my son, ever?”

“I have traveled the earth seeking wisdom. Knowledge I have collected from Greece, Egypt, Sidon, Phoenicia, Persia and even the lost religion of ancient Mesopotamia. In everyone, I have gleaned the existence of one God who is the god of all gods. It is to this God that these evil spirits fear the most. If there is any hope, seek those who worship the one God. Go to the Jews.”

To be continued…

Click here to read – Part 6 (not posted yet)


Author’s note:

Though this short story is basically fiction, the character of Demacli is based on an actual unnamed personality described in Luke 8.

There are many such characters in the Bible, many of them were not named at all, but yet there are worthy stories to tell about them. With the help of some sanctified imagination and some artistic license, I felt their stories should be told especially of their faithful encounters with Jesus Christ.

Elpida the prophetess is also one of those biblical characters. You can read her story at THE SYROPHOENICIAN WOMAN OF MARK 7:26 [part 1].

The GERASENE DEMONIAC of LUKE 8 [part 4]

A Biblical short story by JQuisumbing

Click here to read – Part 3

continued…

“Greetings, my son,” said a portly man, as he slowly alighted out of a horse driven carriage. Following him was his mother who was slightly taller.

“Hail to you, father and mother,” Demacli said as he first embrace his mother then grasped the forearm of his father, Roman style. Looking around, he asked, “Where are my sisters?”

“Oh, we left them in Hippus,” his mother said.

“Ah yes, Hippus. I miss our home. I miss the hills that overlook the Sea of Galilee. Come. You must be hungry.” He led them to the covered patio where lunch was being laid out for them.

After an hour, the table was being cleared by the servants. They were lounging around on big plush cushions under a canopy of vines and fragrant flora. What fronted them was a garden of palm trees and circular pond with a statue of Dionysus holding up a stalk of grapes.

“You have done well for yourself, my son,” his father said looking around. “We are pleased at your accom…”

The voices in Demacli’s mind intruded again with many suggestions that his father was less than sincere and also that his mother seem secretive. He had to struggle to keep his mind focused.

“Demacli! Are you listening?”

“Ah, ummm… yes… I mean, I am sorry, father… mother. I am a little distracted, today.” He stood up quickly and agitated. Not waiting for them to ask anything, he said, “You must be tired. Habbi will lead you to your room. I… I must go!” Then, he dashed out the doors of his villa and was walking fast down the street. The whole time, hundred of voices were laughing and jabbering away mostly about why his father was here. It was so distracting that Demacli didn’t realize that he was already a mile outside the city, running up a hill.

When he got to the top, he collapsed to his knees and screamed in anguish, startling a nearby flock of goats.

Three nights later, he returned to the villa disheveled and dirty. He tiredly lowered himself to the ground next to the gate. A servant saw him and quickly brought Habbi.

“Master, we searched for you for days.” Seeing that he was asleep, Habbi shook him. “Master… master!”

Like waking up from a bad dream, Demacli sat up straight, looking around in confusion. He grasped Habbi’s sleeve and croaked in a parch voice, “Wha… what happened to me?” After drinking some water that a servant hastily brought, he said, “I woke up in a cave some miles from here. I don’t recall anything.”

Three nights later, he returned to the villa disheveled and dirty. He tiredly lowered himself to the ground next to the gate. A servant saw him and quickly brought Habbi.

“Master, we searched for you for days.” Seeing that he was asleep, Habbi shook him. “Master… master!”

Like waking up from a bad dream, Demacli sat up straight, looking around in confusion. He grasped Habbi’s sleeve and croaked in a parch voice, “Wha… what happened to me?” After drinking some water that a servant hastily brought, he said, “I woke up in a cave some miles from here. I don’t recall anything.”

“We are bringing you home,” his father said. “Habbi will stay to continue the business. My son, according to the priestess, you have been fooled by Ate, the goddess of mischief. I have heard that she had been casting her spells among the Jews lately. But I have heard of a prophetess of Hermes hiding in Cadasa in the region of Phoenicia that may free you. We must go there.”

“I hate to leave father but…”

“I know, my son. You have built so much, but I think you need not fret for I think you’ll return.”

But deep in his mind, Demacli heard a thousand laughters.

To be continued…

Click here to read – Part 5


Author’s note:

Though this short story is basically fiction, the character of Demacli is based on an actual unnamed personality described in Luke 8.

There are many such characters in the Bible, many of them were not named at all, but yet there are worthy stories to tell about them. With the help of some sanctified imagination and some artistic license, I felt their stories should be told especially of their faithful encounters with Jesus Christ.

The GERASENE DEMONIAC of LUKE 8 [part 3]

A Biblical short story by JQuisumbing

Click here to read – Part 2

continued…

“Let them in,” said all three priests together.


Demacli was in the same room of his dream. The room was bare, devoid of any objects. There were no windows. The walls were lacking of decor and the ceiling was domed. Against one wall, there were double doors with a wooden bar across them keeping closed. Outside, he can hear the wind blowing and something that sounds like thousands of footsteps circling the room.

The doors rattled. Demacli’s heart raced and he rushed to the doors to make sure the bar was secured. He rested his forehead against the doors to calm his heart down. Then, there was a knock and a female voice.

“Remember the wealth… remember what we can give you. Let us in!” Those three words rung out again very slowly, but with the voices of thousands. “Let… us… in…”

Demacli started to tremble and shake all over. He wanted what the voices were offering but yet he was desperately scared. But as the voices continued, his resolve weakened. He straightened himself and slowly lifted the bar. He swung the doors wide open. Then, he woke up.


A year had passed. Demacli was riding on a carriage carried by six slaves down a wide boulevard being hailed by people of different classes. When they got back to the villa, Habbi was there waiting for him.

“I take it, Master, your meeting with the Roman was fruitful.”

“It wasn’t but then it was. The Roman was no help but the Egyptian I talked to will aid us to double our profits for the next year or so.”

“That is good, Master. Your father would be proud.”

“Yes… it is too bad he wasn’t here.”

“As a matter of fact, I just received a message from your father. Your entire family will be here in three days.”

“Three days, you say.” Inside Demacli was concerned.

“What is wrong, Master? Why the frown?”

“Ah…” He shook his head. “Nothing that concerns you, Habbi. I am going up and I am not to be disturbed.”

He went up straight to his room.


“Why is my father coming? Why now?” Demacli asked himself.

“He is coming because he wants to take away from your success!” It was his voice he heard but harsher. “He is jealous of you!” His voice again but more weaselly. Other voices in his head began to intrude by suggesting other things about his father.

“Enough! You’re all too much again,” he said clutching his head. “Speak to me one at a time.”

Echoing deep inside his mind, he thought he heard many laughters as if from a jest fading away. One voice came out but more authoritative.

“So, your father is arriving. What will you do?”

“What is there for me to do?” Demacli whined.

“Stop your whining. You be the man! Face up to your father, if need be.”

“Yes… if need be.”

Then, the other voices returned.

To be continued…

Click here to read – Part 4


Author’s note:

Though this short story is basically fiction, the character of Demacli is based on an actual unnamed personality described in Luke 8.

There are many such characters in the Bible, many of them were not named at all, but yet there are worthy stories to tell about them. With the help of some sanctified imagination and some artistic license, I felt their stories should be told especially of their faithful encounters with Jesus Christ.

The GERASENE DEMONIAC of LUKE 8 [part 2]

A Biblical short story by JQuisumbing

Click here to read – Part 1

Continued…

The room he entered was smokey and dark except for a lit oil lamp on the floor. There was another light source coming from above that emitted a circle of light around the lamp. The light was so bright, he could not see the walls.

“Come and sit in the circle,” said a deep feminine voice.

Demacli sat on the floor with the lamp before him. Then three cowled persons slowly walked in and sat down before him. Their faces were hidden in the shadows with only a slight glint reflecting from their eyes. The feeling was somewhat eerie.

“What do you ask of the gods?”

“I seek wealth. All my ventures have failed and I would give anything to be lucky.”

Together, all three of them asked, “What would you give to the gods?”

“What can I give? Gold or silver?”

“Those things are nothing to them.” It was the feminine voice that spoke.

“Then what?”

“You!”

*** *** ***

“Master! The caravan has arrived!” A voice shouted from below.

“That makes your third investment in four months coming in with no mishap,” said Habbi. “Luck is finally with you.”

“Yes, it has,” Demacli said yawning.

“Master, what ails you? In some nights, we can hear you talking in your sleep. Sometimes, we hear screaming.”

“Bad dreams,” Demacli said almost hauntingly as he stood up and went to the window. “It is always the same dream.”

“What dream haunts you so?”

“I… I am in my room and hundreds of… shadows are trying to break in! Some nights, I can hear them beckoning me to let them in. When I awaken, I am drenched in sweat. I try to stay awake but… my eyes become heavy. Then, the dream comes again.”

“Master, since you have gone to the temple of Dionysus, your businesses have done well. But now you are haunted by this. You must return to the priestess.”

*** *** ***

“What is it that you seek of the gods?” asked the priestess in the center.

“I have these dreams…”

“Have your business improved?” asked the priest on the right.

“Are you not debt free?” asked the one on the left.

“Do you want… more? …fame? …power?” asked the priestess in an alluring voice.

“Yes… but the dreams?”

“Let them in,” said all three together.

To be continued…

Click here to read – Part 3


Author’s note:

Though this short story is basically fiction, the character of Demacli is based on an actual unnamed personality described in Luke 8.

There are many such characters in the Bible, many of them were not named at all, but yet there are worthy stories to tell about them. With the help of some sanctified imagination and some artistic license, I felt their stories should be told especially of their faithful encounters with Jesus Christ.

[ Sketch rendering of Jesus & the Demoniac is based on Oliver Medhurst’s Bible colored illustration found in www.olivermedhurst.tumblr.com ]

The GERASENE DEMONIAC of LUKE 8 [part 1]

A Biblical short story by JQuisumbing

“Demacli! We have heard about you,” cried a voice in the crowd of laughing partiers.

“True! All of it, true!” said Demacli who raised his glass up, laughing. “Here is to Dionysus, our god of wine!”

“You Greeks always get it wrong. It is to Bacchus, the Roman god of grape that you should praise,” said a fat man whom Demacli did not know. Some in the party roared in approval while most jeered in laughter.
Demacli, wildly laughing with the group, drunkenly walked out to a balcony. He looked up at the starry night. Then he up-ended his drink, some spilling down the side of his beard. There was a divan nearby and Demacli fell unto it and lost consciousness.

The next day, he was rudely awaken by a cold splash of water.

“Well, master,” said an old man amusingly. “Last night’s party seem to be your most loudest ever. We’ve cast out thirty seven this time, only seven we recognized.”

“Arrrgh… Please Habbi,” groaned Demacli, as he slowly and painfully sat up on the divan he collapsed on the night before. “You are too loud for this early morn.”

“Originally, master, it is the seventh hour since the sun came up.”

“Food… I need food.”

Habbi clapped his hands and a female slave came in with a tray of food. As Demacli wolfed down his food. From the balcony, he looked out upon the desert city of Canatha.

Canatha was one of the free cities of the Decapolis, a grouping of Greco-Roman centers located on the eastern frontier of the Roman Empire. Some three hundred years before, these ten cities were founded during the Hellenistic period after the untimely death of Alexander the Great. Canatha was located fifty or so miles east of the Sea of Galilee in the deserts of Syria. It was on a major caravan route with Damascus in the north and an untold number of Persian cities in the far east.

Habbi pulled up an overturned stool and sat on it.

“Master, the rate you are going, you will lose the wealth of your father in two years. Six caravans of your investments were lost to marauders. Those shipments that you entrusted to that lying Phoenician are gone. And the parties you hold practically every night… well, let me put it this way. One day, you will awaken to find everything in this villa gone, stolen by your so called drinking friends.

He pauses. Then, in a softer voice, “Demacli… my dear boy… I have watched you grow up. Your father commanded me to take care of you as you go out into the world to make something of yourself. There is no shame returning home to Hippus and admitting to your father that you were not ready.”

“Enough, Habbi!” Demacli stood up and walked into the house. With Habbi following, he went downstairs, walked across the patio to a garden pond. Then he jumped right in. When he came out dripping wet, he was wide awake. “Habbi, no more lectures. You forget your place. Now, I am going up to change and then I am going out to meet someone who promises that I can gain more wealth.”

To be continued…

Click here to read – Part 2


Author’s note:

Though this short story is basically fiction, the character of Demacli is based on an actual unnamed personality described in Luke 8.

There are many such characters in the Bible, many of them were not named at all, but yet there are worthy stories to tell about them. With the help of some sanctified imagination and some artistic license, I felt their stories should be told especially of their faithful encounters with Jesus Christ.

[ Sketch rendering of Jesus & the Demoniac is based on Oliver Medhurst’s Bible colored illustration found in www.olivermedhurst.tumblr.com ]