Date: Tue, 15 Oct 1996 08:03:43 MDT From: Robyn Meta Herrington Subject: SUB:CONTEST: Encounter with the dark side Encounter With The Dark Side On the eve of Halloween there was a chill in the night air. A slight breeze whispered over the land leaving silence in it's wake. Mothers put their children to bed, kissed their cheeks and blessed them with sweet dreams. Linda had tucked her five children into bed and closed the last bedroom door. Running her fingers through her waist length brown hair, she gave a sigh of relief. She had some spare time to relax before she fell, exhausted, into bed. She encourage her body to keep moving toward the kitchen so she could treat herself with a cool drink. With the little ones in bed, this drink didn't require being shared nor would it have unidentifiable food particles floating on top. Linda smiled to herself at the mere thought. Entering the kitchen, her joy faded when she saw her husband sitting at the kitchen table. His legs were crossed with left hand, palm up, nestled between his thighs. His shoulders sagged as if a great heaviness rested there. His head drooped in sorrow allowing black stringy hair to fall before his eyes. His posture she knew all too well and it spoke volumes. To prove herself correct, she spared a moment to seek out his right hand which was possessively curled around a plastic glass. The pinkie finger was extended out in the normal fashion. Beside the glass was her heartache, packaged in an empty bottle of whiskey. "Where you been?" The slurred words rattled her nerves and made her turn away from the sight of him. "Putting the kids to bed." She answered as she retrieved a glass from the cabinet. After pouring the pop over ice, she picked up her drink and turned around to leave. Disgust stopped her as she gazed upon the completion of her husband's ritual. His face was now laying on the table, eyes closed and mouth slightly opened. The overturned glass had spilled the remnants of the whiskey onto the table. He had pasted out in the short time her back was turned. Lifting her eyebrows, she decided it would be a good time to call her sister and have a nice quiet chat before going to bed. Walking by her husband she went into the living room, sat down and picked up the phone. "Hello?" "What are you doing?" Linda asked. "Oh, nothing. Everyone's asleep so I got out my Bible to read." Debbie answered in a soft voice. "Same here. Except Odel is pasted out. How's everything going?" "Honestly, the kids have been really getting to me the last few days. I don't want to be yelling at them all the time. What I need is more patience. Would you remember to pray for me to have more love and patience with the kids?" Debbie made her request to her best friend and sister. "Yeah, no problem. Oh, shoot. I think I hear Odel. I better go before he sees me on the phone. I'll call you tomorrow if I get a chance." Linda hung up the phone and went to the kitchen to check on her husband. He was sitting up in the chair with shoulders back and both feet flat on the floor. This was very unusual and made her cautious of him. Side stepping to put more space between them, she eased her way toward him. Hearing her approach, he turned to look at her. His eyes, which moments earlier were glassy with red veins running havoc, now were clear and calculating. This frightened her into asking, "Odel?" In a crisp voice he answered, "I'm not Odel." Her body soaked up the chill of his words and she was forced to repeat the question in hopes that she misunderstood him. "Odel?" Once again, he simply stated, "I'm not Odel." Consumed with fear, her mind refused to believe him. Yet, she couldn't stop herself from probing deeper. "Who are you?" She spoke in a timid, shaky voice. Drawing one corner of his lips up into a sneer, he reviled his mission without hesitation. "Him, I've got. It's you I want." Blood rushed to her face causing it to throb with heat while her hands became stiff from lack of warmth. Gathering what little courage she possessed, she willed her feet to carry her from the room to the telephone, her only salvation. She dialed her sister's number and urgently waited for her to pick up the other end of her frantic out reach. "Hello?" "Debbie, you have got to come over here! Something is wrong with Odel! He was pasted out, then he sat up straight as a poker and now he's talking crazy. I'm scared." The depth of fear was brought to light in her voice. "I'll be there in five minutes." The receiver was slammed down and Linda was left to wait the agonizing five minutes alone. Seconds ticked by like hours while she stood by the door awaiting her sister's arrival. She anticipated her husband to pounce on her from behind making her tense and prepared. Strangely, he didn't move from his spot. Bright headlights guided the car into the driveway bringing Linda her life long protector. Debbie was her older sister and had always been there to step in whenever she had a problem. Getting out of the car, Debbie mounted the stairs and nearly collided with her sister on the porch. The door was left open to the night air in Linda's haste to be in the comfort of her older sister's presence. "I'm really scared of him. He's in the kitchen. Go in with me and talk to him." Linda begged. Taking control of the situation, Debbie marched into the house and went directly into the kitchen to get the matter cleared up. With hands on hips and head tilted to one side, she looked her brother in-law in the eye to ask, "What are you doing?" "I can come into him anytime I want because he's opened the door." He explained. Both sisters' eyes immediately sought out the empty bottle of whisky abandoned on the table. Looking for conformation, Linda tapped her sister on the arm and mouthed the words, "The door?" Debbie, stunned by the revelation, nodded her head in agreement. Still not wanting to believe the man sitting in the chair was anything but her brother in-law, she demanded weakly, "Stop it, Odel." The entity gave a wicked smile. "I can start a fire without a match. Can you?" His eyes darted to the gas stove, indicating that he would light the burners if asked to perform. The women remained silent. "Your friend, Jane. I sent some friends over there to cause hell." Trying to prove the lie he spoke, Debbie pointed out, "Odel, you don't have any friends to be sending them anywhere." He raised an eyebrow in actuation, "And you don't even like kids." She took a step back from the verbal smack in the face she received. The action made him smile. Causally, glancing to Linda, he baited her. "You believe in casting out demons? Try to cast me out. Go ahead and I'll throw you out that window." Shifting his eyes to point out the exact window, he sat and waited. Deep down in her gut, Linda knew he wouldn't have to move from the chair to see the job done. Fear clawed it's way up her spin to wrap it's fingers around her throat to choke off her air supply. The shrill ring of the phone caused her whole body to twitch and made the demon grin as if he had a secret. Glad to have an excuse to run away, yet afraid to take her eyes off him, she rushed from the room to pick up the phone. "Hello?" "It's me, Jane." She gasped for a breath then crumbled into tears. "What's wrong?" "Jean came over here tonight and she was drunk. All she wanted to do was fight. I tried to tell her to stay away from that guy she's dating and she started pushing me. I kept telling her to stop it. Then she knocked me down, leaped on top of me and punched me in the face. I don't understand it." She paused long enough to blow her nose. "Doug ended up calling the police to get her out of here." Emotionally falling, spiraling downward into a black hole, Linda gave herself up to the bliss escape to the place where no one cares. A light slap on the forearm rudely brought her back to her present state of mind. With a look of anger on her face, she stared at her sister who delivered the slap. "Don't leave me in there alone. Who are you talking to?" Debbie reprimanded her. Into the mouth piece, Linda said, "Jane, I gotta go." Not waiting for a reply, she slammed down the phone. "That was Jane. Her and Jean got into a fist fight and the police were called." Grabbing the phone, Debbie declared, "I'm calling Michael Wolf." "Good idea. A preacher should be able to handle this." "Hi, Michael, this is Debbie. You need to get over to Linda's house right away. I think,... I think her husband is possessed by a demon." Linda didn't care how nutty the words sounded to the preacher. All she wanted was someone to make it go away. If he thought her to be out of her head, that was fine. Just as long as he came to the house. Debbie hung up the phone and turned to Linda. "He said he would come right over. I'm not going back in there." "I'm not either. Let's wait by the door." The sisters huddled together by the front door, looking through the glass. Hoping, somehow, their keeping visual would cause him to arrive sooner. Silently, Linda began to pray for their safety. Metal scraping against the tile floor sounded through the house like a fog horn. The women tensed, held their breaths and stood frozen with fear in the hallway. Their terror made manifest came into view. He took a step into the hallway. Then two and three. After the third step, he collapsed on the floor, unmoving. The built up tension in Linda came to a head and she exploded into tears. A fist pounding on the door behind her brought a scream ripping from her lungs. Debbie jumped into action and opened the door to allow the preacher to come into the house. "I am so glad you're here, Michael." She breathed a sigh of relief until she noticed the ashen skin tone of his face. Michael didn't attempt to make a move toward the door. His eyes were unnaturally large and his lips were quivering as if he were trying to speak. He managed to peek around Linda to see her husband laying on the floor on his back with his arms thrown out on each side to form the shape of a cross. "I'm sorry, truly I am. But this is bigger than me." He reached into his pocket, withdrew a small bottle of oil and opened it. Pouring a small amount onto his finger tips, he smeared the oil on the door frame. All the while, his lips are muttering a silent prayer. "You aren't coming in!" Debbie asked in outrage. "I'm sorry, Debbie. I'll pray for you." He turned around and rushed down the steps and leaped into his car. "Damn it, Linda, how long you gonna leave the door open?" The women spun around to find Odel sitting on the floor. The slurred, slobbery words that once grated on her, now brought sanity to her unstable emotions. "I was just now shutting it, Odel." Linda slowly closed the door and locked it, as if a dead bolt would keep her alive. *************************************************************** -- -------+++++++-------+++++++ +++++++-------+++++++------- Robyn Herrington Operations Manager, Microforms Services University of Calgary, MacKimmie Library Ph: (403)220-6903 http://www.ucalgary.ca/~rmherrin rmherrin@acs.ucalgary.ca -------+++++++-------+++++++--------------+++++++-------+++++++-------