Sissy Pogue is a major character in Enter Infernum. She is a teenage graffiti artist. Because of her talent, Sissy was coerced by the mad sorcerer Apotheker into creating a monstrous mural, that served as Porta Ad Deo, the gateway to Hell. Apotheker is gone, the portal destroyed, but her torment continues.
The nightmare that had been fall was over. Apotheker sent packing, chained to Hell’s Wall and brains snacked upon by ravenous ravens. For the time being, Hell’s Gate was closed. The world was safe. Sissy’s family and friends, safe. Sissy was permitted to continue her life, free of Hell’s machinations.
April was glorious. Winter vanquished. Flowers in bloom. Sissy has a girlfriend, Cindy. They’re in love. Sissy should be happy. Right? Wrong!
1971, a new year. New years means new possibilities, new opportunities. Out with the old, in with the new. Except some things never change. The color of Sissy’s brown skin mattered, to some. Her sexuality, queer inflamed, some. She dated a white girl, angered, some. Race mixed with sexuality, you might as well light the fuse. Sissy’s refusal to remain closeted regarding her queerness brought the haters.
Sissy’s journey onto and off the Arsenal Tech campus brought the taunts. Nowhere was safe from the harassment. Her food tray tossed on the floor. Foot stuck out, tripping her as she walked down the hallway. The threatening, anonymous messages left in her locker. The snickers. The slurs. The slights. The hostility front and center. The teachers turned a blind eye to the torment.
The “some” offended by her, were not a random collection of individuals and incidents, it was the same people, day after day, inflicting their torment on Sissy. The jocks. The closeted racists hated her for her skin color. The black athletes were inflamed by her sexuality. The fact of the matter, they were put off by her unavailability for sex.
The jocks of course had their groupies. The pretty popular girls, popular because they dated a jock. In Sissy’s mind, high school was a shit show. “One year,” thought Sissy, “I can survive this. Graduate and get the hell out of town.”
Sissy recalled April 8th as a bad day, the worst, so far for her high school life. She was ambushed in the girl’s bathroom. The leader, Sarah Pawlak, captain of the cheerleading team, locked the door. A turn of her head signaled the other girls to pin Sissy’s arms behind her back. They pushed her into an empty stall and shoved Sissy’s head into the toilet, releasing her long enough to gasp for air, before continuing with their torment. Done with the dunking, the girls threw her onto the floor and kicked Sissy in the ribs and head. Sissy wrapped her arms around her head, to spare it from the girls’ merciless kicks. Sarah grabbed her by the shirt, hoisted her up, and pummeled Sissy’s face with her fists. The beating was interrupted by banging on the door.
“Girls, you better not be smoking in there. Open up,” shouted Mrs. Dumont.
The girls left Sissy on the floor and formed a line. Sarah unlocked the door and the group marched out of the bathroom. Mrs. Dumont found Sissy curled up on a ball. She helped the battered girl to her feet. “Dear, let’s go see the nurse.”
Mrs. Dumont left Sissy with the nurse and continued on to Principal Matthew’s office to discuss the assault and suspensions. Sissy knew nothing would come of the matter for Sarah and friends. All had parents with clout, which meant money. Powerful boosters. Nothing was going to happen.
Nurse Taylor applied bandages to the cuts on Sissy’s face. She wrapped Sissy’s ribs taut with an ace bandage and fastened the wrap with pins. The nurse instructed the girl to take aspirin for the pain. The broken ribs would take a month to heal. Miss Taylor suggested Sissy may not be able to lay on her side to sleep. Mrs. Dumont returned and asked to speak with nurse Taylor in the hallway.
Sissy watched the two women whisper back and forth. The conversation seemed to work up Miss Taylor. The nurse returned with the bad news. “It appears that old “gutless” Matthews is inclined to do nothing. Sissy, this is assault. If you want I can call the police.”
“No Miss Taylor. I don’t want to get you sideways with Principal Matthews.”
“Now Sissy, you don’t worry about me.”
“Still, the police will do nothing, and it will only make things worse for me. Thank you for trying.”
Sissy had enough of Thursday, skipped her last class and walked home defeated. She went straight to her bedroom, sat on her bed, and cried. “I brought this on myself,” thought the girl. “Maybe, I should break up with Cindy. Go back in the closet.”
A woman’s voice shouted, “You will do no such thing!”, said in a thick Greek accent.
Sissy looked into her floor length mirror and saw a beautiful woman with ebony skin, green eyes and long red hair that floated about the woman’s head. She wore a long embroidered green robe.
“Calypso,” said Sissy.
“Where is the girl I knew, who stood up to Apotheker?,” challenged Calypso.
“Here, battered and bruised.”
“Girlfriend, you have magic, powerful, powerful magic. You need to use it.”
“My only magic comes in a spray paint can.”
“Exactly,” said Calypso.
Sissy was confused, “I don’t understand.”
“I can teach you a spell that will animate your art work. You create your champion,” explained Calypso.
“A dragon. That’s it. I’ll paint a dragon.”
“Cool your jets, missy. I need to explain a few things. First, the subject needs to be painted to scale. Second, you must paint three images, each bigger than the first. The last image, the largest. Third, your magic must not be made public. Punishment must be administered in private.”
Wary, of what punishment, meant, Sissy stated, “I don’t want to kill anyone. Hurt, I just want to hurt them bad.”
“The summoning is constrained by the summoner’s code.”
“How do I summon my champion?,” asked Sissy.
“Repeat after me. Manus colore res effingunt: colores, tonos, umbras. Consilio delineate. Bestiae vitam inspirant; eius voluntatem meae coniungunt. Mandata mea exsequuntur; iustitiam meam administrant.”
Sissy repeated the phrase. Recited it three more times, before she asked, “What does it mean?”
Calypso translated, “Hands make real with paint. Colors, hues, and shade. With purpose drawn. Breathe life into beast. Fire its intentions with mine. Do my bidding. Administer my justice.”
“Is that it?”
“No. You need an initiator word. Your sentiment.”
“Enough!,” barked Sissy.
“Perfect word, Sissy. Say the initiator word when you are ready. Your tormentors need to know its use. Good luck, dear.” Calypso’s image faded, replaced by Sissy’s.
Sissy pulled out her sketch book, as always, working out her graffiti on paper before painting it on brick or concrete. She sat cross legged on her bed, stilled her mind and waited for the voices, her muses. The whispers came guiding her hands. Once outlined in graphite, the image was filled with colored pencils, pressure applied to darken, to shade. Finished, Sissy had etched an Ogre, skin green. Fearsome in fangs and claws. A club held high, poised to administer Sissy’s justice.
She pulled out her knapsack from under the bed. Assessing her inventory, Sissy had the colors needed to spray her masterpiece. The question was where. Where to tat the Ogre?
The blockhouse. Friday was the football spring scrimmage game. The players will be in pads, practicing before the night’s exhibition game.
Sissy skipped cafeteria and walked into the woods behind the blockhouse to retrieve her art supplies. She started by etching the outlines of the three images with white. The same image, one bigger than the next. One by one, she applied the same colors to each image. She checked her watch. The boys would be suiting up soon. Close to finished, she heard the players enter the locker room to suit up for practice.
She heard the voices of the boys forming outside the blockhouse. Sissy whistled to alert the players, “Hey, dumb fucks. Back here.”
The football players met Sissy behind the blockhouse. Graffiti of three Ogres adorned the wall along with a taunt, “Fuck you, piss fucks.” She punctuated the insult with the middle finger. Sissy ran. The boys followed in close pursuit.
Her plan was to race by the practicing cheerleaders, in hopes they’d join the pursuit. Sissy flashed by the girls, screaming “Fuck you, bitches.” The cheerleaders joined in the chase.
Sissy ran back into the woods and stopped at the fencing that encircled the campus. The chasers closed in on her, blocking Sissy’s escape. Their quarry was trapped. Sissy knew otherwise.
She faced her tormentors, “One way or another, your torment stops today.”
“Is that so,” scoffed Bradley Miller, captain of the football team.
“Walk away now, and nothing will happen to you,” warned Sissy.
“One girl, against us. I think not,” replied Bradley.
Sissy spoke the initiator word, “Enough!”
A black hole stretched open, separating Sissy from her tormentors. Out stepped a large Ogre. It’s skin was green. Fangs hung over the creature’s black lips. Black claws on its fingers and toes. The eyes burned fire red. Muscles bulged in its arms and legs. The Ogre sported a beard. Hair red. It’s only clothing was a loin cloth. It held a black club. It tapped the weapon in its massive hand, ready to administer Sissy’s justice. It surveyed the group, turning its head left to right, right to left, looking for its first victim.
The Ogre struck Bradley in his midsection with the club, propelling the boy into a tree. It’s club swung back and hit Sara in the leg. The girl toppled to the ground, bone broke through the skin of the injured leg. The others turned and ran. The creature followed in pursuit sweeping its club back and forth, sweeping boys and girls aside.
Sissy ran after her Ogre and before it could clear the tree line, she shouted, “Stop.” The creature halted and waited for its mistress’ next command. She stooped to a toppled boy closest to the Ogre and asked, “Will you leave me alone?” The boy nodded earnestly, in tears from the pain. Sissy stood and asked the rest, “Will you leave me alone? Now, and always?” “Yes,” squeaked her tormentors. “Good,” replied Sissy, “We have an understanding.”
Sissy turned to the Ogre, put her hand on its arm, and signaled it to lean over. The creature stooped down and Sissy kissed it on the cheek. “Thank you.” The Ogre smiled.
“I guess I need to send you back, but I don’t know how.”
The Ogre responded, “You know the word.”
“Enough!,” responded Sissy.
As the Ogre faded away it waved its good byes to Sissy. Before it vanished, Sissy’s champion said, “Stay strong mistress.”
From that day forward, the word spread through Tech what transpired. Whispers followed Sissy through the hallways. One word, queer or gay was replaced with another, witch, said with reverence and fear.