Category: Father Phillip’s Adventures

Cecillia and the Agitated Officer

January 23rd, 2025

I put away the brevier and went out of the chapel. The liturgy of the hours were something strange at first, but now I seem to have gotten used to it. The more often I do it, the more I understood how to pray with it: You are not just singing the psalms, but you also have to listen closely to the others. Prayer is not just about saying what you want, but also about listening to what comes to your mind. What is God’s voice?

As I walked past the garden that protects the chapel from any distracted souls, I thought about prayer in singing. Or singing in prayer. It is easy to do when everyone around you does it. Maybe that is why many people are regularly visiting convents. They yearn for more, but need to re-learn how to pray. Or are they just escaping?

My meditation on prayer was interrupted by the voice of an angry officer. Well, you can’t fully escape every day life. As my curiosity took hold of me, I went to the source of this voice.

“Excuse me sister, but this is an urgent business! I need to talk to Father Phillip!” The man seemed to insist on meeting a priest. Urgently. I wonder how you could urgently need a certain priest.

He was talking with the guest sister who apparently was just doing her job: Receiving people. But she just kept shaking her head. “Officer, I told you already. Father Phillip does not want to see anyone. He even told me specifically not to bring you to him.”

“But why???” The officer’s high voice slowly turned to a quiver. “There is once again a demonic attack in the Lotus District, and Father Phillip is the only one who is allowed to exorcise!”

The sister was just shaking her head. “Father Phillip also told me about how you would tell me that there is a demonic attack in the Lotus District.”

“He even foresaw that!” The Officer dropped himself on the chair. Now, he just looked like a pouting school boy. “He knew that we would be in trouble and still went on with his ‘Spiritual Exercises’! Catholics!” He put his hands on his face, as if silently crying. “Tell me, Sister,” he then turned to his conversation partner, “did he say something else?”

“Yes,” she replied. “It is not a demon. Tell the family of the deceased to pray a rosary together, and offer two masses for the poor soul. Father Francis should be available.” Then she went on with her other tasks. She intentionally let the door to the reception open, knowing that the officer might need to take a rest for some time. I heard her light footsteps fading away as she approached and talked with the other guests of the convent.

I knew Father Phillip. He was my spiritual director until I moved away from Nethertown. Some friends of mine told me that he started helping the police handle demonic cases in their town. It was not like that when I was still there, and we suspected it was because of the rising popularity of weird rituals. My friend Paul said that he saw how those rituals call on demons without the people knowing. Kind of scary, if you ask me.

The officer was now sitting on a bench in the reception room. He looked a little lost and confused, but seemed to have calmed down from before. “Hello, Sir,” I greeted him. “I heard you say the name of Father Phillip. I was his pupil some years ago.”

“Ah, are you also one of those weird kids who dote on him?” He seemed to be fed up with Father Phillip and just letting it out on me.

I shrugged. It is not untrue that we were all a little special. We liked Father Phillip a lot. For some, he was the father figure we didn’t know we needed. “Well, I could say that.” I stretched out my hand to him. “My name is Cecillia. Nice to meet you.”

The man smiled, but he kept his answer short. “Dawson.”

We proceeded to talk about Netherworld. He told me all about the new changes that happened since the last time I was there. The police always wanted to avoid collaboration with religious institutions, but lately all kinds of scientist and other learned people seem to be less and less helpful. They also tried to keep it fair and hire several people from several institutions. Nevertheless, only Father Phillip could help them solve most of the new cases. If it weren’t for his holiness, as the shamans say, it was just because he had a calm mind. It was a nice talk with Officer Dawson, but he had to go soon after.

Days went by, and as I was wandering in the garden after the morning prayer, I heard someone call my name. I knew his voice too well. I smiled as I turned to the person greeting me. “Father Phillip! How are you?”

“Well, I just finished my retreat. Are you still being the thinker that you are? What are the new things that you heard recently?”

“Hm,” I tried to recall the past few days I spent in the convent. “There was this Officer Dawson who looked for you. A demonic attack was happening in the Lotus District. He was astonished that you knew about it. Have you gotten in touch with him yet?”

The priest nodded. “Yes, there were no complaints anymore. The family listened and did what I told Dawson to tell them.”

I got impressed, and my curiosity arose. “How did you know?”

My former spiritual director laughed. “If I may be honest, I learned some things from you, Cecillia.”

I did not reply and gave him the space to continue.

“I listened.” He patted me on the shoulder and went away.
Father Phillip and the Haunted Castle

May 29th, 2024

Once upon a time, there stood a haunted castle by the sea. People reported experiencing bizarre sensations, and sudden ominous feelings would lead some to become hysterical. Despite sending groups of policemen and shamans to investigate, their efforts yielded little success. At best, they returned with bloodshot eyes, refusing to speak until they had time to recover. The worst-affected individuals had to be carried back to the city during daylight because they were paralyzed by fear. Most eventually recovered and resumed their duties, but a few victims remained motionless since their return from the castle.

“Father Phillip,” called out little Florian, waving a newspaper that featured the latest batch of victims in another terrible mental state, “they hire shamans and policemen, but no exorcists! Don’t you want to take a look at it?”

The silence that followed was a clear sign that Florian demanded an answer. The other children played their instruments in another room, but Florian stood steadfastly in front of Father Phillip’s office. The boy never left without having his questions addressed.

Father Phillip sighed. “You know I can’t simply act on my own whenever I feel like it. Besides, if shamans are already involved, the church is often prevented from asking further questions.”

“But Father Phillip,” Florian insisted, “you can’t just sit there reading the Bible while people suffer!”

Just as the schoolboy finished his sentence, Father Phillip’s phone rang. He spoke briefly with the caller and hung up. “You’ve raised this topic at the right time, Florian. I must go now. See you.”

“Ah, Father Phillip, thank you so much for being here,” greeted the police officer when he arrived at the location he had been called to.

The Father flashed a smile and bowed slightly. “Certainly, always after the shamans burned your money. The church is indeed there for the poor, isn’t it, Dawson?”

Dawson blushed. “Well…” The officer seemed to forget where he usually placed his hands. “It appears that the church is capable of things that the shamans cannot even comprehend.”

“Ah, shamans don’t know about demons?” Father Phillip inquired.

“Nonono,” Dawson replied, emphasizing the urgency, “this demon can’t be harmed by any spell. Even the strongest incantations were repelled. What’s worse, it adapts to the situation—attack it, and it becomes more resistant.” Dawson’s explanation sounded matter-of-fact, but Father Phillip noticed his hesitation and random pauses. The police officer resembled a child trying to memorize world history rather than a seasoned professional reporting the truth.

The not-so-old priest nodded, listening intently to Dawson. He took notes as he reflected on the situation. Finally, he spoke up: “You know, Dawson, there’s one thing that all your batches did that made the demon stronger.”

Dawson flinched. He didn’t want a sermon from a priest, especially outside of mass. “What is it, Father Phillip?”

Father Phillip locked eyes with him. “Fear. You were all afraid. No wonder nothing worked against the demon. Fear is the evil’s main weapon, not those feeble spells they flaunt. Now, let’s go and take care of it.”

As Father Phillip and the police officer, Dawson, arrived at the castle, Father Phillip addressed the newest batch of recruits. He retained only those willing to pray and instructed them to hold onto their rosaries. The castle needed a regular blessing, he declared, and the demon within was not something to fear. Fear, he explained, was the evil’s main weapon, far more potent than any feeble spells the shamans displayed. With conviction, Father Phillip blessed the castle, sprinkling every room with holy water. Despite the screaming sounds that erupted when the holy water landed on the castle’s surface, Father Phillip remained steadfast, treating them as mere bird chirps. As they completed the ritual, there was no trace of the demon. The shamans, however, adamantly refused to visit the place again. They claimed it felt like being burned alive, and the brightness was so intense that they feared going blind.

Father Phillip remained an enigma. In his presence, demons that appeared as fierce as lions transformed into mere kittens. Even the strongest shamans harbored fear of him.

“See, Dawson,” Father Phillip said, patting the police officer on the shoulder, “just don’t be afraid. No demon can harm you then.”

And so, the haunted castle by the sea found peace, its malevolent spirit banished by unwavering faith and fearlessness.

Category: Father Phillip’s Adventures

Cecillia and the Agitated Officer

Father Phillip and the Haunted Castle