"Deacon Ash"

Chapter 9: Nightmares

My world in a drunken spin, I had ended up on the couch with one arm resting across my stomach, the other parallel to the floor and barely holding on to a half full glass of Jim Beam and Coke. I probably would have drifted off to sleep had it not been for the hammering wind gusts against the house.

My off track vision had drifted to the framed various sized black and white landscape paintings adorned along the living room wall. As a young boy, I had found them to be fascinating. They had been my imaginary escape from Blackwood. One picture in particular had captivated my interest more than any other. Not because it was more or less spectacular than the others but because it was directly in my line of sight. The lighting was too dim to reveal which landscape feature was encased in the frame and I was too damned intoxicated to possess clear vision. My attempts at bringing it into focus had turned in to a game. When it seemed I had gotten a bead on the picture, it would go into a clockwise rotation, evading my suspicious eyes. After continuously failing I had finally accepted defeat.

Making it to the kitchen for a refill had become my next challenge. Fatigue had crept up on me and the hands of sleep gripped me tight. Just when I thought I had lost to the over powering sleep, the crackling thunder would slap me across the face to full consciousness.

It had been a back and forth tug of war that I was sure to lose until three slow knocks at the door ripped me from my imminent slumber entirely. I had forgotten that I was holding a drink in my hand and it slipped from my grasp as I stood up. Luckily I saved the glass from crashing to the floor.

Three more knocks ensued.

"Hold on, Angelos," I said.

I staggered through the living room to the kitchen counter to set my glass down before answering the door.

The knocking cycle had begun again, irritating me like crazy. I debated whether to curse Angelos for his impatience and decided against it, thankful that the fruitcake had come to take care of the lights.

"I didn't think you'd come until tomorrow," I said as I opened the door.

A cool draft lifted the smell of trash, rotten food, and fish into my nostrils, down my throat and in to my lungs, gagging me.

"Good evening," Deacon Ash said, grinning.

He stroked Chaos's head as he anxiously waited for a greeting in return.

I swung the door closed and Deacon Ash's bony hand stopped it. "I'm not here to cause any trouble," he said.

"What do you want?" I asked, swaying.

"I'm here to apologize," Deacon Ash said.

"What for?" I said.

The memory of his impoliteness from the night before swam in my head.

"For my disrespect," Deacon Ash said. "I just want to explain my actions."

I wanted to hear what he had to say.

"Go on," I said.

"Kind of hard for a man...an old man at that...to be standing out here in this here storm trying to make amends. I want to do this real honorable-like," Deacon Ash said.

I wanted to refuse his indirect invite request.

"Please," Deacon Ash said. "Let me come on in. I've walked a long way and I need to catch my breath."

After a few seconds, I had come to respect the old man's desire to come and apologize.

"Dog stays outside," I said.