» From Fiction To Reality - Part One

- An August/2003 Special Feature -

by Marion Phillips

::Jump through the text::

::Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3::

*This work's rights belong to the author. No reproduction allowed without the author's consent. If you want to link to this page from your site, please read our privacy policy about it. Thank you!*

Chapter 1

Irene writes in her journal:

"Tonight is April, 29 2004, and this is the first time in 5 years that I have courage enough to recollect the happenings that started in the autumn of 1999. Something unforeseen and fantastic happened, and maybe, if only disaster hadn't come, it could have lasted. I wish that it had…

In the beginning of that same year, I had bought a common horror novel in a library and because the school year had just started and the teachers loaded all of us with homeworks, I simply forgot about it altogether and only months later, in September, was when I remembered it, and started to read it.

It was a compelling story about a handsome and charming werewolf and his tribulations through the centuries up to our present days, when the character faces his old sworn enemy and defeats him.

Fairly conventional all this. Almost every story in Christendom has been written with such elements and has such an end. But even so, I kept daydreaming about the main character, Simon, and even drawing portraits of him on my notebook, when the class was too boring.

And soon I started to compare the young and old men I knew with the virtuous Simon, and I always got to the conclusion that he was better than all of them.

"Girls! There are even some old witchcraft books here! This is marvelous!"

So one morning me and my friends, Rosalind and Therese, we were in the school's library researching for a history homework, when walking through the room, I saw a door and through the glass panel in it, I saw that there was a narrow corridor with a metal bookcase that had some books on it and a staircase that went downwards only.

It's not that I had never noticed it before; it's just that it never had stricken my interest. I called on the girls and told them that maybe we should go through the door and see if there was something more useful downstairs than there.

Rosalind said:

"But Irene, there's a restricted area sign there. Maybe it would be better for us to just ask one of the librarians for the information we need."

Then Therese said:

"Hey, that can be fun! I heard that that's the place where the 'prohibited' books are, so if we don't find anything useful to our research, at least we may find some amusing books!" - she laughed.

"Yeah! That's it! We'll go!" - I said and then I told Rosalind - "If you don't want to accompany us, stay here. We'll just take a look there and we'll be back soon. After all we don't want to be caught by Mrs. Robbins and the interval will be over in 10 minutes."

She thought for a moment, biting her lower lip. She had always been the careful and thoughtful one who hated to trespass. But this time, she exceeded herself:

"Let's go then. We just need to be careful so that no one will see us entering there."

"Great!" - Therese said.

Slowly we walked towards the door, perusing the books in the bookcase close to it and talking as if we were still interested in the research.

Then while Therese looked around discreetly to see if anyone was paying attention to us, I opened the door and Rosalind and me entered the corridor. Seconds later Therese joined us and quickly we went down the stairs.

In the basement we found something like a continuation of the library above, except for the scarce light that came from the windows at ceiling level and the lack of any librarian there at the moment.

Each one of us went to look at the books in different parts of the basement, and I could only hear Therese's delighted moans and whispers as she read the titles of the books.

"Girls! There are even some old witchcraft books here! This is marvelous!"

The bookcase I was examining also had witchcraft and mythology books, and closer to the opposite wall I saw an old book with a dusty and worn-out black cover, that had golden letters on it that attracted my attention.

Its title was in Latin, and it read "Demonorum Creo" and at that time I had no idea what that meant. I took the book from the shelf and took it to the girls.

"Hey! What do you think this is about?"

Therese looked interested at it and exclaimed:

"Hmm, this must be a powerful magic book!" - she laughed, took the book from my hand and started turning its pages - "Ugh, what an awful smell! The greatest problem with these old books is that they always stink!" - she coughed.

"Do you understand any of it?" - Rosalind asked her.

"No, but I think its fun anyway. So exotic!" - Therese said without taking her eyes from the book.

The bell rang announcing the end of the interval and we looked at each other.

"Why don't we take the book?" - Therese asked.

"You must be kidding!" - Rosalind immediately said - "We can't possibly take this book from here!"

"Yes, we can." - Therese said - "If it's here its because they don't care about it. Look how dusty, dirty and unkempt all books are here."

I thought for a moment and then told them:

"I think there's no problem if we take it. You can give me your coats and I'll pile them on the arm I'll be holding the book and this way no one will notice. Or so I think." - the two looked at me with sly smiles on their faces. I laughed and said - "Well, at least it doesn't has any metal plate glued to it, so when I cross the metal detector it won't beep."

"All right, all right." - Rosalind said impatiently - "Here's my coat. Let's be done with it or we'll arrive late in the classroom and Mr. Worthington will cut our heads off!"

"Why don't we make a little witchcraft here today? Just to stir things up a little. Gosh, I'm so bored!"

"Gee! I dare him try!" - Therese said and giggled as she took her coat, and after I got both of them, piled as I said I would on the book, it looked perfectly normal and gave no hint that I was hiding it under the clothes.

I passed easily by the metal detector and when we arrived in the classroom, I simply opened the lid of my desk and put it under my other books.

That afternoon I took it home and intrigued by those baffling Latin words, I got my father's old Latin dictionary from the bookcase in the living room and started to try to decipher the text.


::back to top::

Chapter 2

Of course I didn't manage much in my translation, as the dictionary only had the meaning of the words, so in the following week I bought a Latin grammar and started to study it on my own, moved mainly by curiosity.

The first thing I noticed about the old book was that its text was like a Romantic poem written by Shelley or Yeats, dark, full of crazy symbolism but even so interesting. In the meantime, I continued to read my favorite book and dream about Simon.

Sometimes when I was in the school's yard, sitting under a canopy with my friends, I would pretend to be reading a school's book, and simply daydream, imagining that I was talking to him, that he was there with us and he was smiling his beautiful and charming smile.


Months passed, the school year ended, and I got so truly interested in Latin that I decided to apply for a Latin course in the following year.

The winter was melancholy in my little town, and day-to-day routine went on as if it were a vicious cycle that couldn't be broken by anything.

Rosalind traveled with her family to visit some relatives in Salt Lake City and Therese and I stayed behind. We met everyday of that winter, whether in her home or in mine, just so that we wouldn't be bored and lonely.

And one Saturday afternoon, we were in my bedroom in the attic, silent after talking through hours, and I found myself staring at the old book.

Therese followed my glance and she said in her high-spirited way:

"Why don't we make a little witchcraft here today? Just to stir things up a little. Gosh, I'm so bored!"

I continued to look at the book and then my gaze fell on the werewolf one, and a strange feeling came over me. Suddenly I felt the certainty that I could do something important in that moment.

I said:

"Let's do it then." - I smiled at her - "How do you Wiccans do it? You get a candle, a cup with water and so on, isn't it?"

"Something like that." - she stood up and said - "I'll go home now and I'll get the things we'll need."


When she got back, she was carrying a plastic bag, and from it she started to take her things.

"Lock the door, please."

I went to do what she said, although my parents and younger brother were away and were expected to be back only much later, and I got the old book from the table, before sitting down on the floor in front of her.

Between us, she prepared an altar of sorts with a black cloth in which was drawn a white pentagram, only this time she positioned it with its top point turned to me.

I thought about asking her why she did it differently from all the times I took part in her rituals, but I decided that it could not be a good idea.

Then she put the cup, the incense, the crystal ball, and the candlestick with a black candle in their places and took a bottle of wine from the bag, then filled the cup with it.

"Choose a part of the book for you to read." - she told me.

I nodded and opened the book at random, eventually opening it near to the end.

She lit the candle and the incense and sat back on her knees with her eyes closed and concentrating.

I sat in a similar way holding the book in my hands and reading the words silently, to avoid stuttering in the middle of the speech.

She started to invoke the gods to protect and help what we were meant to do and while she spoke, I suddenly realized that we were going to do something serious, not a mere play.

I closed my eyes and I saw Simon's face as I imagined it and as I had drawn so many times and I decided what we were going to do in that moment. The funny thing about it is that not for a moment I thought in the absurdity of it!

She stopped her chant minutes later and looked right at me. It was my turn to speak, so I started reading, first in a low voice, then letting my voice become more powerful and naturally finding the right cadence, as I repeated the verses on and on.

The text was a small poem, of only nineteen verses and after reading it aloud for four times I had almost memorized it, so at moments I was even chanting them with my eyes closed, allowing the energies to flow around me.

Mixed with the sound of the words I spoke, I sometimes thought of his name and made myself see his face, and suddenly I was feeling so sure that 'something' could happen, that when after twenty minutes of this, when Therese told me to stop, I opened my eyes and stared baffled at her. There was 'something' I wanted to see when my eyes opened, but sadly I did not.

She smiled at me and asked:

"You want 'him' to appear, don't you? Don't look at me with this blank face, as if you didn't know what I'm talking about! I already noticed that lately the only thing you draw is this man's face and body and the only book you read apart from the school's books is that novel."

"Therese, I'm not going mad if that's what you think…"

"I don't mean this. What I mean is that you're a little obsessed with this character, aren't you?"

I looked at the old book I still held and murmured:

"I'm tired, tired of feeling lonely in the middle of a crowd."

"I know, but most people feel it at one moment or another in their lives and you can always find someone amid all these people in the crowd."

I shook my head and remained silent, with my head bent.

"Let's go downstairs Irene. I think that what we need now is to eat and drink something." - she smiled, stood up and reached her hand to help me stand up.

Downstairs we went. We dined and we talked through a couple of hours and when we finally decided to go upstairs, it was because we wanted to watch the DVDs we had rented at Friday.

It was already early evening, my bedroom was lighted only by the faint light that came from the street and when I was about to put my head through the door as I opened it, I heard a noise, as if someone was sitting on my bed.

I froze in panic and swallowing dry; I opened the door a little more and looked to my left.

There was a naked man there with long hair, powerfully built, and an angel's face. Slowly I entered the room, keeping my eyes on him, as he kept his on mine, and when Therese entered it, she gasped when she saw him and looked to me.

I turned the lights on and his green eyes sparkled, his face remaining serene.

Therese and I were both speechless, and she was at the moment already standing tensely beside me.

Finally he spoke with a velvet tenor voice:

"Were you the ones who did this?" - he pointed to the altar that was still on the ground.

"Yes." - I murmured.

"How can I ever thank you for it?"

"You don't need to." - I said.

"I'd like to." - he smiled.

We continued to stare at each other, and all of a sudden I decided to approach him and reached my hand to touch his shoulder, as he simply watched with curiosity and as Therese murmured 'Don't!'

I touched him and his skin felt warm and soft. I noticed that he was pale, but not unnaturally so, and no bad smell came from his body.

He slowly reached to take my right hand from his shoulder, brought it to his lips and said:

"I think we should be properly presented." - he kissed the back of my hand softly - "I'm Simon Rochefort, at your service." - he let my hand go.

Nervously I said:

"I'm Irene Walker and this is my friend Therese Logan."

He looked at her and she uttered a hurried:

"Nice to meet you." - then in a perplexed way as if she couldn't hold the words in herself anymore, she asked me - "What are we going to do with him, Irene?"

"I don't know." - I said looking at him.

He just smiled warmly, and then started to laugh.

::back to top::

Chapter 3

"First of all," - I said after thinking for a while and after Simon finally stopped his amused laughter - "I think we should get him some clothes. Maybe you can borrow some from your older brother's closet, can't you?"

"Maybe." - she looked at him quickly up and down, blushing a little - "I think Tyrone's clothes will fit him. I'll go get them now."

I nodded and thanked.

She was so confused with all that, that she turned to go, but then she turned back to get her things from the ground, put them back in the bag and just then she went out.

"Maybe I am only a demon brought to this earthly life by your magic..."

I was still close to Simon, and I felt his hand on mine again. When I turned to him, he smiled at me and said:

"Why don't you sit here by me. I know I'm not decently dressed, but you don't seem to be really bothered by it."

"No, I'm not." - I blurted out, inevitably displaying my nervousness, and I took my hand away from his. His touch was disturbing me, exactly because I've been dreaming about it for months.

"You don't like me to touch you, do you?" - he asked noticing my uneasiness.

"No." - I lied, without the courage to tell the truth - "From now on I prefer that you don't touch me so freely. You can stay here in my bedroom, of course, but I don't want you to stay too close to me all the time."

He scowled as if he had been offended by my words. I kept standing his glance, with my heart beating quickly and my hands sweating.

"I thought that if you wanted me so much at your side, that you would want me to touch you, to love you."

I shut my eyes and screamed:

"I'm confused! This is so unforeseen! So unbelievable!" - I opened my eyes and looked into his sparkling green eyes - "I don't even know what you are! You certainly can't be the character in the book, because characters simply don't come out of the books to entertain the readers."

"You called to me!" - he said in an angry whisper - "You worked your magic to bring me out of fiction."

"You can't possibly be the character of the book!"

"I know exactly what I am! I'm a werewolf, and I'm Simon Rochefort!"

"You are some kind of demon that's using some kind of energy to be able to keep this solid form! You aren't Simon!"

I stood up from the bed and walked to the window, staring outside, with my mind filled with desperate thoughts. I was trembling with fear, shock, nervousness and confusion. I wanted to do so many things, but I was terribly scared.

I heard Simon's steps on the carpet, coming to my direction. I turned to look at him and saw him reaching his hand to touch my shoulder, but then he pulled it back and bowed his head resentfully.

He sighed and said lowly:

"In truth I think you may be right. I know so many things, but I'm not sure if I can truly claim to be Simon." - he raised his head with a sad look in his eyes - "Maybe I am only a demon brought to this earthly life by your magic, and I'm sorry if I'm causing you such distress." - he paused and kept looking at me, then he smiled - "I'll try to prove to you that I don't mean any harm to you nor to your friend and maybe in the end I'll also be able to know for sure what I am."

I nodded silently and looked at the old book that was still lying on the ground untouched. I read its title on the cover: "Demonorum Creo" and forced myself to translate it: "To Create Demons".

I had been reading and trying to translate the book for months, but only then did the name's translation make some meaning to me.

I bitterly laughed and looked back at Simon, who was also looking at the book and I told him:

"I really hope you won't cause us problems, Simon."

He looked back at me and said:

"You have my pledge of honor I won't, Ms. Walker."

He smiled.

::back to top::go to part 2::

::home::stories & poems section::

Copyright © 2003 Marion Phillips