If you don't believe in demons, let me introduce you to Alf, who lives to get kinky with those he possesses, but most of all he prefers creating chaos. Perhaps all the evil in the world can be traced to demonic possession. That would explain why a well-behaved neighbor goes on a violent rampage.
After being emotionally assaulted while shopping, Lenore Maine goes home to find her life turned upside down. Someone is stalking her mind, though she can see no one. That night a dream begins a life of horror, and she finds she must solve its meaning in order to escape death at the hands of an ancient demon. She dreams:
A naked figure, more animal than man, lurched upright, lifted a twisted iron casting, and bellowed to the rising blood-red moon. Forlorn as a wolf’s call, the baying moan rode astraddle a gust of wind. A black wind that touched the gleam of trembling lips and sucked a curse from them.
“Sic pereant omnes inimici tue, Domine.”
The apparition raised its head to glare straight at Lenore with ancient yellow eyes like midnight lamps that glittered the remote darkness to life. Silent screams clogged her throat and a
body paralyzed with fear refused to respond to its terrorized, thundering heart’s desire to flee.
With a cry born of awesome despair, the creature dropped to all fours and pawed a cavity in the dank earth. There he cradled the coil of iron and raked musty soil over it like a dog covering a treasured bone.
From the surrounding umber forests surged a mass of red, hairless beasts, babbling incoherently, firing arrows in a rain of fury. Sharply-honed chert points thunked into muscle, flesh
and bone, and the naked beast crumpled across the sacred burial ground.
The crimson moon cleared the skeletal trees and splattered the field of carnage with a fiendish glow . . . .
The fortunate inherit riches, prestige, positive notoriety. Those not so lucky bear legacies filled with poverty, infamy or, worse yet, the unhinged insanity and murderous urges of their ancestors.
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