The Unfortunate Gift

What A Saint

CHAPTER EIGHT

What A Saint

            Children are often afraid of the dark. They claim to see shapes, shadows, movements in the walls…science can explain to us how our eyes can play tricks with our minds. There is some validity to that theory. However, believe, if you will, for the slightest moment that there is a shadow in your room. It moves, and for a fleeting second, you could swear you saw the malevolent shape disappear into a wall. Many individuals experience such night terrors, but they are able to convince themselves that the spooks are imagined. What if the exact same incident to occur during daylight hours, in a well-lit room…what then? Could science continue to blame the game between the eye and the mind?

            While I did not see these injurious inky beings every day, I did see them occasionally. There was a time in my life when I might encounter three or four demons in a year. However, the number of my sightings had increased to three or four times each week. Once the community was blind-sided by Jeremy’s death, something spiritually belligerent was set into motion. The police continued to search for a murderer, Jeremy’s family continued to grieve, our community continued to fear everyday happenstance, and I continued to be badgered by an unsettling notion. Good and Evil. Love and Hate. Yen and Yang. The good with the bad, as they say.

            It was 5:15 in the afternoon – and there wasn’t a cloud to be found in the expanse of blue above. I hopped on my mountain bike and took a little ride through town. I concentrated on the month’s events. I initiated a very frank conversation with God. I became ultra aware of my surroundings. I was not startled by what I saw; one, two three…they were scampering away like crazed sewer rats escaping the beam of a flashlight. As I passed the Providence Baptist Church cemetery, I felt the pin-prick sensation. It was definitely a demon – and one the size of a small dog; it crossed the road in front of me.  It was pitch black – like tar – and it hovered 5 inches above the gravel. It was struggling wildly – as though it were trying to shift into the inconspicuous shape of something more benign. Without touching or disturbing the grass and pine straw on an embankment, it sped upward, through the wrought iron fence surrounding the graves. Too late, I was mentally reciting the words. As it tried to absorb into a grave, it vanished. The thought of it trying to escape into the churchyard – it struck me as both paradoxical and funny. What was not funny was the obvious fact that there were plenty more of these nasty creatures in supply. I knew they existed everywhere, but to see them exposed in the open during daylight was highly unusual. They were gathering. What I wasn’t certain about was whether or not they were invited to the party. My gut said they were the party.

            I continued my ride until dusk. On my way back to my dorm, I rode by Jeremy and Trey’s old rental house. All the windows were stripped of their curtains – offering a clear view inside the house. Like children who see shadows, I thought I saw yet another black presence inside the living room. I slowed my bike, preparing to recite the words necessary to rid our community of one more demon. To my surprise, it was not a demon, but a person. It was a man by the look of his stature. He was dressed in black. He seemed to be prowling around the darkening house, searching for something. I coasted on my bike until I reached a neighboring home. I hid my bike in the azalea bushes and walked to the back yard of the rental house. The only sound heard was the whoosh of passing vehicles.

           As the sun handed its orange filter over to the moon,  it became more and more difficult to see inside the windows. I crept up to a kitchen window, my back against the vinyl siding as I hugged the exterior of the house. In one slow movement, I craned my neck to the left and peered into the bottom corner of the window pane. An empty kitchen drenched in shadows seemed undisturbed. I felt the night was now dark enough for me to remain undiscovered. Peering into the window, I could see the occasional beam of a small flashlight flickering from room to room. Whoever was in there, they were working alone. If only I could see a face. I decided to move to another window, so I thanked my stealthy Converse Chucks, rolling my feet as I walked. What seemed to be a bathroom window proved to be too high off the ground. I kept moving around the perimeter of the house until I found a bedroom window. More sporadic beams of flickering light. Very slowly, I raised up to peer into the bottom corner of the bedroom window. It was dark enough inside that my eyes took several seconds to adjust. Finally, my eyes began to make out the shapes inside the bedroom. With a jolt of adrenaline, I saw the dark outline of a man. In a split second, the flashlight came on, piercing my vision with searing light. I ducked out of reflex, keeping my hand on the side of the house. The flashlight moved toward the window – he had seen me! The problem was my vision – I was temporarily blinded by convoluted blobs of light, morphing from one color to the next as I tried to focus. Without hesitation, I moved like a rabbit, keeping one hand on the house to guide me to my starting point. Once there, I hoped I could see well enough to find my bike and worse….ride it!