MISSISSIPPI GOTHIC - A Substack Original - Supernatural Southern Gothic Horror

Chapter 17. MISSISSIPPI GOTHIC: A Substack Original Supernatural Southern Gothic Horror.

Small ghost town. Hidden secrets. Demons. Fallen angels. Root magic. And a woman who can see ghosts— Now forced to stop a crazed pastor from awakening a god.

Feb 11, 2026

Before you get started: I want to say thank you for joining me on my “Watch Me Draft a Novel” series. If you want to know more about the story I am drafting, check out this post here: Trigger Warnings. There you will find the introduction, glossary, inspiration photos, and trigger warnings. (please see the trigger warnings before reading) I want to add that this series is an 18+ adult fiction with spice. Enjoy.

Socials: @authoreanoble | E.A. Noble

Chapter 17:

Because they come at night

In ninety-five degree heat, sweet bay magnolias swayed in the humid summer breeze. Their waxy leaves twisted toward the white-bricked building of Saint New Mission Church. Auntie Niecy parked the car into a parking slot beside the slab of concrete nearest the walkway, close enough that Granny wouldn’t have to walk far. The engine switched off, and the breeze carried the scent of magnolias. Lemon, vanilla, and petrichor. Knowing more than ghosts haunt this church, I couldn’t ignore the persistent smell of damp earth and rotting meat leaking from the church’s red door.

Atop the building, the upside down cross clashing against powdered blue skies, was a glaring mockery. It seemed to state, bow down, for I am your God, and you are mine now. Accident my ass. The installation was purposeful. How many demons have walked through these church doors, and no one even noticed? How many preachers stood at the pulpit, preaching God’s words, to sheep that didn’t recognize the wolf underneath? The church was never a shield, it was a mouth, eating willing souls that climbed into its belly.

Sweat beaded on my nose. Niecy used to say when sweat beads on the nose first, it meant a person was mean. I had never raised my hand or my voice to anyone. Being mean terrified me. I worked hard to stay soft and quiet, minding my manners, because being the weird Black girl was already hard enough.

I envied mean women. The loud girls who spoke their minds and didn’t give a shit about who wanted them silent. Black girl anger knew something I was only just learning. Nobody was coming to save us. We had to save ourselves. And that meant fighting, even when everyone else turned the other cheek. Nice was another word for sacrifice.

And I refused to sacrifice myself any longer.

I dabbed my forehead with a handkerchief, wiping away sweat and the growing dread I would not collapse too. Women in brightly colored church hats stepped onto the cracked pathway leading to the stairs, heels clicking, skirts perfectly cut at the knees. The church door flung open, and out came Pastor Jacobs with a grin stretching too far across his face. His eyes were darker than black pebbles and deeper than Bullseye Lake. He greeted the women, holding open the church doors, ushering them in. Once cleared, he bounced down the steps to greet a family with three children to which he gave high-fives too. He shook hands with the men, gripping tight, staring straight into their eyes while speaking words of encouragement. How happy he was to see them, and how he wanted to promote them to higher callings. Each man smiled, their backs straightening, their wives blushing with pride. The elders walked into the church, their chest puffed at his charming compliments.

Couldn’t these god-fearing people see it? Couldn’t they see the sharp teeth behind his smile, the saliva drooling from the side of his mouth, the hunger in his eyes? They said Lucifer had been the most beautiful angel, adorned in gemstones and light. The fall was always paved in beauty. No one sees the ground until it’s too late.

“Y’all ready to hear that new pastor preach today?” Niecy said, unbuckling her seatbelt.

Granny grunted. “Hmm. We’ll see what he’s talking about.”

I glanced at Granny, dressed in her all-black mourning suit. Granny wasn’t sold on the new pastor yet. She glanced out of the front window, eyes narrowed, as if she too, was assessing Pastor Jacobs.

“If it ain’t hitting on nothin’, we might need to find a new church, “Niecy said, dusting off her bejeweled church hat.

“We might need a new church anyway,” I muttered.

Jacobs’ head snapped in our direction. His eyes seemed to connect with mine, and my body had a knee jerk reaction, kicking the back of auntie Niecy’s seat. It was like he heard us talking about him. His smile widening as he stared at our car.

“He kind of handsome ain’t he?” Niecy said.

“You’re a married woman, chile,” Granny reprimanded.

“I still got eyes, don’t I. I can acknowledge a good looking man when I see one.”

I blinked, then his attention turned to the next family walking up. The kids were jumping on every crack. And I remembered the spirits laying in wait underneath the concrete. I wanted to yell stop! Don’t do that. Instead, I took a deep breath, grabbed the headrest to help hold myself from tumbling over.

I can do this. I can face him. We are in a public area. He won’t harm me, he needs me.

I repeated, slowly exhaling.

“Are you okay, baby?” Granny twisted in the passenger seat to look at me.

“You ‘bout to have one of your episodes, girl?” Niecy said, sliding lipstick across her lips, not bothering to turn around.

“Hush.” Granny patted Niecy’s hand. “Here. Drink this water. You just hot.” Granny wiggled a bottle of water.

I took it.

“Maybe Pastor Jacobs can lay some hands on you,” Niecy said, stepping out of the car. “Cast out them demons.”

Granny sighed. “Ain’t nothing wrong with my grandbaby.”

“Something has always been wrong with that girl. That’s why there’s no better place than the house of the Lord.”

“I can literally hear you.” I side-eyed Niecy. She slammed her door shut, walking around to Granny’s side.

Granny studied me. “You sure you okay, baby? Is this about Revvy?”

I glanced at Pastor Jacobs. He waved at us. Niecy waved back.

No. This wasn’t just about Revvy. This was about every Seneca, alive and dead. Fear impregnated me, sat heavy in the depths of my belly, but I couldn’t turn away now. I had to be here. I had to face him. Had to find the mean girl buried inside myself, and stand up to the mouthpiece of a trapped god.

“I’m okay, Granny.” I twisted open the bottle cap and took a swig of water. Afterwards, I casted a small spell in a whisper. Psalm 16:8. I have set the LORD always before me: Because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved.

My back straightened, my palm stopped sweating, and I opened the backseat door and slid out.

Jamie swerved into the slot next to us, tires crunching over loose gravel.

“You drivin’ like a bat outta hell!” Niecy shouted, helping Granny get out of the car, then guiding her up the path. “Slow down before you kill somebody, boy.”

“Girl, please!” Jamie said, hopping out of his Cadillac.

Granny looped her arms around Niecy’s, and Niecy threw Jamie the finger without missing a step in her kitten heels. Jamie threw one back. I watched Niecy and Granny stroll down the path like this was any other Sunday. Pastor Jacobs met them halfway, holding out his elbow for Granny to cling onto. Pastor Jacobs spoke, Niecy pointed back towards Jamie and I, and I knew she was telling the Pastor all of our business. I threw my head back, suppressing the need to yell to Niecy to shut her big ass mouth.

“She stays in folks business.” Jamie cursed.

“Right!” I said, watching the pastor help them up the stairs and into the church.

“So,” Jamie said, reaching into his purse, pulling out several small bags of salt. “We got a plan or what?”

“What are you doing with those?” I asked.

“Hell if I know. Ain’t demons scared of this shit?”

“Demons are supposed to be scared to enter the church too, and you see how that’s turned out.”

“Maybe we ain’t fooling with no demon.”

Exactly.

“That’s what we need to find out. How powerful he really is and how quickly can we put him down?”

Pastor Jacobs turned our way, and smirked.

Jamie leaned in. “You think he can hear us?”

“Only one way to find out.” I slammed the car door shut. “Let’s greet him”

I didn’t wait for Jamie. Before I knew it, I was halfway to him. Pastor Jacobs waited at the bottom of the steps, holding a leather bible in his hands. Even devils could quote scripture.

“Well now,” he said with a voice slicked in honey. “I’ve been dying to finally meet you, Ahunni Seneca.” He extended his hand when I stepped into range. I stared at it. His palm never wavered. Instead, Jamie slipped his hand into his grasp.

“Nice to meet you too,” Jamie said.

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine.” Jacobs tightened his grip around Jamie’s hand, but Jamie didn’t back down. He squeezed back, harder. Their hands locked together.

There was a shift behind Jacobs’ eyes. Just a twitch. Gone as soon as it came.

Jacobs laughed softly and released Jamie. “Strong grip,” he said. “That’s good. The world can be a hard place these days, it needs men.” Jacob let go.

“I’m pretty sure the world has enough,” Jamie said.

“Hmm.” Jacobs raised a brow, then turned his attention back to me.

“Either way, I’m so happy two bright souls are able to make it on the Lord’s day. We are losing too many young folks.”

“Many of them are ending up face-down in Bulls-Eye Lake,” I said.

There was a slight up-tick at the corner of his mouth. “Tragedy, I heard they pulled another body out this morning.” His thumb stroked the edge of the Bible. “Such an awful way to lose a life. Drowning alone like that.”

“It’s weird,” I said. “How often it keeps happening.” I elbow Jamie and jest. “It’s like the lake has some hungry god inside who’s craving for sacrifices, right?”

My face morphed into a stone-cold seriousness. I’m showing my hand, not sure if it’s too soon, but I needed to get his reaction. Jacobs’ eyes held mine. Deep. Dark. Bottomless.

“Sin has a way of calling people home,” he replied. “At the end of the day, God will call us all home.”

Before I could speak again, the church door creaked open. “Pastor,” a woman called, poking her head out. “It’s almost time to start.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you, Miss Anderson.” Jacobs climbed the stairs. At the top, he held the door open for us. But Jamie and I remained planted at the bottom of the steps. “Well,” he said, smiling down at us, “just like your auntie said, there’s no better place to be than the Lord’s house.” Jacobs disappeared into the building.

Jamie leaned close. “You good?”

“No,” I said. “But I’m ready.”

Sweat beaded on my nose, and I channeled my anger.

Inside the church, Jamie and I took our seats three pews up from the exit. The sanctuary was already alive. Drums, on beat. Keyboards planning in a quick tempo. The Guitar strummed to the singing. The choir was grouped together on the left side of the pulpit, red robes swishing as they crescendo. Hands clapped, feet stomped. Someone shouted, “Yes, Lord!” somewhere in the pews.

Pastor Jacobs stepped to the pulpit dressed in a white robe with a red stripe down the middle. His arms stretched wide, mirroring the massive wooden cross mounted behind him. For a moment, it looked like the cross was holding him up. The song ended, and the congregation was warmed up and ready. The keyboard played softly in the back.

“God is good?” Jacobs called.

“All the time,” the congregation chimed.

“And all the time?” Pastor Jacobs replied.

“God is good!”

The congregation clapped, nodding their heads in acceptance. The keys harmonize with Jacobs’ voice.

“Sacrifices,” Pastor Jacobs said, stepping away from the pulpit, mic in hand. His voice was low, tasting each word in his mouth before he spit it out to half-starved ears. “As I prepared and pondered today’s sermon, God spoke to me, amen.”

“Amen,” scattered voices echoed the pastor.

“I said, God. What message do I need to give to your worshipers today? And God said—” Pastor Jacobs eyes locked with mine. “sacrifice.”

“Amen!” a woman shouted behind me.

“I said, sacrifice?” Pastor Jacob scrunched his nose, feigning confusion as he descended the three steps from the pulpit. “What about sacrifice?”

He stopped halfway down the center aisle.

“Then the Holy Spirit showed me Hebrew 13:15-16. Go ahead and read that for me John.”

John stood to the left of the pulpit, right in front of the choir, dressed in an all-purple suit with a bible in hand and a mic to his mouth. “By him therefore let us offer the sacrifice of praise to God continually–”

“Continually!” Pastor Jacobs cut in. “Go ‘head!”

John continued. “That is, the fruit of our lips giving thanks to his name.”

Pastor Jacobs bounced on the balls of his feet. His cadence mimicked the old pastor, and I took offense. But nobody else seemed to notice. They clapped, shouted, and amen to his call.

“Sacrifice continually by giving what?” he shouted.

“Thanks to his name!” the congregation shouted.

“Let me get an amen, somebody.”

“Amen!” The church thundered.

“Finish it up, John.”

“But to do good and to communicate, forget not: for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.”

“That’s right,” Pastor Jacobs said, stopping dead center in front of the church.

The church erupted. “You better preach!”

“Come on now!”

“That’s the Word!”

Bodies rose as one. Hands lifted. Feet stomped. The floorboards groaned. The drums kicked on, cymbals and piano emphasized the preacher’s words.

“You better preach, preacher!” Niecy shouted over the music.

And I couldn’t help but think, if this demon would burst out dancing on beat, he’ll be invited to the cookout.

Pastor Jacobs scanned his flock. There was a ripple underneath his skin. I reached for my necklace out of habit and it wasn’t there to give comfort. I bit the inside of my cheek. Watched on as the choir swayed, singing a quick interlude of a song requesting sacrifices for God. My stomach turned, and I found myself even angrier at Jacobs coming into my church I’ve grown up in, and with one damn sermon, they were up and jumping to every word he spoke. I needed to see, really see, what he was doing, and I knew exactly how. Slowly, I removed my glasses.

“You sure you want to do this now?” Jamie whispered.

“I’m sure,” I said, feeling for my gift. The ability to peer past the veil.

I steady my breathing. Pastor Jacobs obsidian eyes paused on me. He grinned. Out shot a snake-like tongue, tasting the air. I wanted to smash my glasses back on my face, but Jamie squeezed my left hand, and that gave me courage.

“God wants sacrifices,” he said, voice wrong. It no longer sounded like one, but many. “He wants praise from every fiber of your being. From the words of your mouth…to your bodies… and even your children.” Jacobs’ eyes winked vertically. “You all belong to him, and he is a jealous God.”

Shadows bled from his collar, tendrils whorled along his jaw, swallowing his face in silhouette. He strolled back up the stairs to the pulpit, thrusting his hand skyward as if giving praise to God.

“On this beautiful Sunday, God told me to tell you—He wants all of your praise. All of your sacrifice. Give everything to God Almighty and watch Him bless your every need. Right now,” Jacobs screamed into the mic, his sweat dripping like drops of oil from his pores. “Show God how much you love Him.”

The drums kicked on, cymbals clashed louder, bodies bucked to the music as the choir belted out a praise and worship song. Behind me, a woman spoke in tongues. Her words slithered across my skin and made the hairs on my neck rise. I twisted around to face her.

Her eyes had rolled, revealing whites only. Foam slicked the corners of her mouth as she stared at the ceiling. Her neck bent at an awkward angle like it was snapped in the middle. Bone poked right underneath her skin.

“Louder!” Pastor Jacobs commanded. The mic screeched. Pain lanced through my ears. I clapped my hands over them. I heard this music before. It was the same beat from the basement of the church where people were hung by their feet from the ceiling. The music sounded like screams, like crying, like gnashing of teeth. I removed my hands from my ears, on my palms, drops of blood.

“Jamie!” I panicked. He was facing Jacobs, his body frozen. I shook him. “Jamie!” I yelled, but my voice was being lost within the music. Jamie’s body began to vibrate. I scooted back. It was like he had no control, his eyes had gone white, drool dripped from his mouth. “Jamie, no!” I grabbed his face, snapped my fingers.

Nothing.

“I am the mouthpiece of God,” Jacobs said, his voice cutting through the drums, the guitar, keys, and the choir.

“When you see me, you see Him. Let go of your ambitions. Your fear. Your sorrow. Hand it over to us.”

Hands burst from the floor, clamping on to my ankles. To Jamie’s ankles. To the children sitting next to me, ankles. Chills ran the length of my skin. Jamie’s lips turned blue. Puffs of white smoke released from my mouth every time I exhaled. Pale, dead hands clasped my dress and yanked. I kicked, knocking the ghost hands off of me. My glasses slid from my lap and skidded beneath the pews.

“Amen, amen, amen,” the congregation chanted, until the word fractured into many voices, joining in with Jacobs.

“What will you sacrifice for God?” Jacobs roared. “Who will give their soul?”

Church folk surged into the aisles, trampling one another.

“I will!” a woman screamed.

“What about money?” Jacobs pressed.

“Take it all!” a man shouted.

Collections plates appeared. Bills soaked through with sweat and blood. An older woman slammed into me, convulsing. Foam bubbled from her lips as she kicked off her heels and sprinted down the aisle, laughing, running laps around the church.

“Lay your heads back,” Pastor Jacobs intoned. ‘Eat His flesh. Drink His blood.”

Every head snapped back. Every mouth opened. Red rain poured from the ceiling. Blood drenched the church. The blood soaked into my hair, my clothes, my skin. When it stopped, my hands trembled, watching the blood bury itself in the grooves of my palms.

Someone knocked me into a pew. I regained my balance, only to watch Niecy laugh manically, her teeth stretched six inches long. She shot up from her seat, climbed over the pews and grabbed a man who had stripped out of his clothes. Niecy’s mouth opened three times wider than normal, her teeth overcrowding in her mouth. She quickly bit down on the man’s shoulder. His penis swelled then exploded with cum as Niecy climbed over his body, bringing the man down in between the pews.

My stomach turned, vomit clawed its way up my throat. I couldn’t control my breaths, they came rapidly, I was dizzy, the church was spinning. Ghost bodies climbed through the flooring, their bodies bending and breaking, black blood like tar ran from their hollowed-out eyes and gaping mouths. Their hands grabbed at my shoulders.

“Get off me!” I tumbled into the aisle. Running toward the front of the church. Ghosts spilled from the walls, bodies hanging by their feet from the ceiling, reaching out to the congregations. Their hands wrapping around women’s necks, leaching onto them, riding their backs. One ghost licked the belly of a woman nine months pregnant. It rubbed half a head on her belly. The other half of its head was blown off, revealing blue-black brain.

“Get away from her!” I commanded, reaching for my light, but my light wasn’t coming to the surface. Where was it? I reached deep inside of myself to pull out anything, everything. I attempted to remember the filling of releasing spirits from the watery grave, to find the ghost’s light, but none was there. It was dark, each of these spirits were so dark and cold that my bones rattled. I shivered, teeth clattering.

Sue said I wasn’t alone. That they would be with me. Where were they? Darkness engulfed me, I was losing myself to pain so great it felt like frostbite. I couldn’t bend my fingers, and it felt as if I pushed any harder, they would break.

Where are you, Sue! I can’t do this.

They needed someone stronger to protect them. I was just one person.

“Ahunni.” Pastor Jacobs’s voice was a speaker, overwhelming each of my senses. I stared up at him. “What will you sacrifice?” he said, stepping to the side.

Behind him, Granny hung from the cross. Nails pierced her wrists. Thorns crushed into her scalp. Symbols carved into her brown skin, leaving gapping wounds.

“This–this isn’t real.” Heart-stopping sobs spilled out of me.

“Oh, but it is.” Pastor Jacob rose into the air. “You’re seeing the truth.” He waved to the writhing congregation. “This is their true nature. This is what humanity has always been.”

“You’re doing something to them!” My voice scraped my vocal cords. “Stop, please! Stop.”

In a flash, Pastor Jacobs was in front of me. Black tendrils erased his face. Bone split from his back. A tail lashed behind him. Many voices layering on top of one another.

Odean.

“You have so much to learn, daughter.”

His laughter reverberated off the walls, popping my ears. Blood trickled from my nose.

He snapped his fingers, and the church inverted, knocking me off my feet and on to my back. I was disoriented. Couldn’t tell my right side up. Blood and corpses tumbled like debris. Ghosts locked me into place, pinning me down. Nails dug into my skin. Hands crushed my throat. Red ants filled my mouth.

I screamed—

—and God laughed.

Chapter Question: Did church every scare you? Especially when you were a kid?

Chapter 17’s song: .Goetia. Dark Magic Music

Schedule Release & Author Commentary:

Chapter 18 releases February 18th, 2026
Again, not much commentary. I am writing two short stories currently to submit to a literary magazine: it’s a creepy cosmic vampire! I did something different when writing my short stories this time, I drafted the entire story in my writing journal, then copied it to my word doc. Usually, I don’t waste time handwriting stories, but something about feeling the pen/pencil on paper allowed me to channel my words much better. I think it’s like going outside and touching grass, sometimes you just got to kick your shoes off and burry your toes in the soil. Same with writing, sometimes, you just have to unplug and go old school. Anyways, wish me luck! Hope you enjoyed the chapter. See you soon.

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