Before turning back around to go inside the house, I make a quick look over of the area with sober eyes for Angelos, just to make sure that he was truly no longer present. He was nowhere in sight, as if he were never there to begin with.
Satisfied, I face the house to see that the door that had become a demolished gateway to the Victorian is restored. There is not the slightest hint of damage. Not a single crack. I reach out and grab the copper doorknob. Taking a deep breath, I turn it, open the door, and step inside.
I have not completely cleared the threshold when I notice the sparkling cleanliness from the foyer to the kitchen. All is neat and orderly, a far cry from the events fabricated within the darkness that had befallen me. The floor, once marked by fire paw prints is squeaky clean. Part of me is hesitant of going any further, fearful of disturbing the meticulousness of the scene. The other part of me demands me to proceed, wanting to see more. I oblige and make my way through the house, retrieving my duffel bag along the way and turning off bright lights as I make my rounds.
The living room, upstairs, downstairs, the bathroom, the entire house, all clean. The areas that I had already touched were cleaner than I could have ever gotten them. No layer of dust polluted the furniture or tarp, no granule of dirt decorated the floors, not one single strand of cobweb hung from corners or sconces. My last stop was the basement and it too had been depleted of filth.
It didn't stop there. As I pass by the dust-free mirror in the foyer after leaving the basement, I notice something that I missed during the first pass. I had been too surprised by the Victorian's interior glorification that I hadn't noticed my own change. I step closer, content with who was looking back at me.
My face is stubble free, clean shaven like a newborn babe. My hair looks as though it has been freshly groomed. It is cut evenly, smartly. I look down at my clothes. My jeans, clean...my shoes, clean...the shirt Micalah gave me, clean and free of rips, dirt, and blood. I look back at the mirror and see my reflection, smiling back at me. I leave the mirror in peace, ready to head home, ready for Amanda and Micalah to see me and I them.
Full of joy and life, I turn off the last light as I step onto the porch with my duffel bag over my shoulder. With one last look through the foyer, I pull the door closed and lock it. I grip the knob and give it a jiggle to make sure that the Victorian with all its magnified cleanliness is secure.
I walk around to the back of the house to retrieve my pistol that I almost forget about. It is on the ground exactly where I had abandoned it. The weapon is covered in dirt. I wipe it as clean as I could with a few passes of my hand as I walk back around to the front of the house.
With Amanda's and Micalah's faces in my head, I walk expeditiously toward my Bronco, picking up my final article of clothing off of the ground; the now unstained makeshift bandage. I push the shirt into my duffel bag and proceed onward.
I waste no time getting my vehicle started and in motion. In a zone, I look through the rear view mirror for a final glimpse at the Victorian as I drive down the winding dirt road.
As it disappears from view, I dig into my pocket for my cell phone and dial home.
"Thank God you called," Amanda says, wide awake.
I smile.
"Are you still there?" Amanda asks.
"I'm here," I say.
"Are you okay?" Amanda asks.
"I'm fine," I say.
"You had me worried sick," Amanda says.
"I had a little too much to drink," I say.
"We really need to talk about that," Amanda says.
"You're right," I say. "And we will, sweetheart."
"Are you serious this time?" Amanda asks.
She sounds unconvinced and I do not blame her.
"I'm serious," I say.
"I'll believe it when I see it," Amanda says.
"I'm on the way home and as soon as I get in, we'll talk about it," I say.
"Okay," Amanda says, somewhat more uplifting.
"Is Micalah sleeping?" I ask.
"She's out," Amanda says. "Do you want me to wake her?"
"No, let her sleep," I say.
"Drive carefully," Amanda says.
"I will and I promise we'll talk about me getting help when I walk in the door," I reiterate.
"I'm here for you," Amanda says.
I could hear her stifling her tears.
"I know you are," I say. "You always have been."
"I'll see you when you get home," Amanda says. "I love you, Seth."
"I love you more," I say.
I close my phone and place it back in my pocket. Reinvigorated, I make a right hand turn onto the access road leading me to I-20. In two hours-time, I'll be back in Shreveport, Louisiana, back home. The anticipation of having Amanda and Micalah in my arms again is a sensation that I can hardly wait to experience. It is a feeling and a reality that the demon within Deacon Ash had strived to deny me of. It is desire that I will cherish and will never again take for granted.
You have looked into my prison, my place of seemingly inescapable darkness, a place where the demon had had his way with me. I pray that you are not burdened with any demons along the dirt road that leads to your house.
Ask yourself, search within your soul if there is a "Deacon Ash" in your life. If you should come across one, be mindful of his power of deceit. If your Deacon Ash, your demon comes for you, hopefully you will see its approach before you are imprisoned as I had been.
How will you know if there is a demon hot on your trail? Be mindful of the warnings. Listen to the angels that are hidden close by. Pay attention to the storm as it tells of the demon's approach and be cognizant of the flickering lights in your dimly lit world. Most of all, be wary of two angry red spheres staring back at you from the darkness leading it directly to you.
The End
"Be not afraid of sudden fear, neither of the desolation of the wicked, when it cometh. For the Lord shall be thy confidence, and shall keep thy foot from being taken."
- Proverbs, 3:25-26
YOU ARE READING
"Deacon Ash"
ParanormalSeth is the consummate alcoholic, a slave to his vice, and his family's constant plea for him to kick the habit has fallen on deaf ears. He escapes to his inherited Victorian in the dead town of Blackwood, Mississippi on a three day hiatus to escap...
