The Battle

8

Michael woke-up gasping and rolled off the couch. Coughing and trying to steady his breathing he looked at his right wrist and saw four shallow crescent punctures in his skin. Looking around the living room he laughed at himself. Was he really expecting to see the open grave right there in the middle of the floor? Picking himself up off the floor he turned off the 6 o’ clock news and walked upstairs to get into the shower. Puzzled by the dream he was content that it was different, but confused as to the point of it. On top of all the emotions he was feeling, he was anxious to tell his dream to Joshua to find out what his opinion was.

He was wondering if he was starting to go crazy. Maybe Joshua needs to up his medication, or change it. He has his good days and his bad days but overall he didn’t think he was depressed. Or as depressed as he would have thought he should be considering what he went through. As far as the dreams go, Joshua never promised the meds would stifle them, but he did mention that the nightmares would be tamed. But they have been far from tame. He has never had dreams so real and so vivid. Stepping in the shower he went over the details of the dream to ensure he didn’t forget any details that Joshua would need to know.

Wiping the steam from the mirror with his hand as he stood there drying off he noticed that there were little specks of gray that were making themselves known in his brown hair. His face is starting to look old as the mounting stress is becoming more and more every day. His marred body seems to be getting thinner to him also due to the stress. Dressing into jeans and a t- shirt, Michael hoped that he was sober enough that no one would notice that he had been drinking. The last thing he wanted was to start throwing red flags.

He arrived at his host’s house precisely on time. Ringing the bell, the door was answered by Donna. He has talked to Donna a lot over the phone, but it has been almost four months since he has physically seen her. Standing in the doorway it took his breath away to see how much Donna looked like Joanna. Did she really, or did he want it to be? From her blonde hair spilling over she shoulders to her pouty pink lips. The jeans she wore were very flattering to her figure. Even the tee-shirt showed her voluptuous curve of her breasts.

Being invited in with these thoughts racing in his mind he was worried about how his body would react. He tried not to stare while she was looking at him. Donna gave him a big hug, and Michael couldn’t help but think this was as close to holding Joanna as he could get. Taking the bottle of wine, Donna pointed Michael to the den.

“Josh.” Michael called as he walked into the den.

“Dinner will be ready shortly, so I thought we could play a game of chess and talk about that dream.” Joshua offered.

“Brother, you have no idea.” Michael said as he sat down

Beginning the game, they weren’t even half way through before they stopped playing altogether to talk about Michael’s dream. The more Michael talked the more Joshua sat in bewilderment contemplating his friend’s nightmare.

“Well, what do you think?” Michael asked.

“I hope you are not looking for a simple Freudian explanation.” Joshua said still trying to digest what he was just told.

“Anything you can tell me would be comforting really, just as long as someone besides me can feel confused or troubled.” Michael mused.

“Dinner is ready boys.” Donna announced popping her head into the study.

It had been a long time since Michael had a home cooked meal, especially by a woman. The cooking, if you could call it that, consisted of TV dinners and cereal. Anything that he really tried to cook wouldn’t be fit for anyone to eat. But then again he had nothing but time to learn how to prepare a proper meal. Donna cleared the plates away from the table and started a pot of coffee. The smell of it brewing was actually welcoming, if he drank enough of it he would be awake for a while which sounded really good. Being awake or at least not dreaming was the appeal of the smell.

“I want you to start two things. One is a sleep log, wake times, sleep times, everything from going to bed at night to taking naps. The second thing is a dream diary. Write down everything that you can remember. I would suggest that you write them down as soon as you wake-up. I think, professionally, writing them down would be a way for you to purge and maybe they will go away.” Joshua advised.

“You think it will really make them go away?” Michael asked.

“I think it’s a good possibility they might. If nothing else any feelings that you have manifested subconsciously will be resolved. Maybe this is all you need.” Joshua offered.

Dessert and coffee was served to the table. To Michael it was a caffeine junkie’s delight. Donna served Chocolate Mocha cake with the after dinner coffee. Even though he was full from the roast chicken that was served with all the trimmings, he still managed to slick down two pieces of cake and three cups of coffee. When the visit was over, and an open invitation was extended by Donna, Michael got into his car and backed out of the driveway not looking forward to having to slip into bed.

9

Parking the car, even after all this time, seeing the house dark and vacant still felt strange. The old Victorian with the large porch and big picture windows looked like a shell of the home that he once knew. Walking into the house and leaving a trail of lights on as he moved from the living room to the kitchen made it seem less lonely. Making a Jack and Coke he decided to go into the study and find two notebooks to start the logs Joshua suggested. Leaving his glass on the kitchen table he walked into the study.

Rummaging through the desk he found two notebooks that would do the trick. Flipping open the cover of the first one he found his sermon that he planned on giving the morning of the opening of the synagogue. Philippians 2, 1-2, “If therefore there is any encouragement in Christ, if there is any consolation of love; if there is any fellowship of the spirit, if any affection and compassion, make joy complete by being of the same mind, maintaining the same love, untied in spirit, intent on one purpose.” Michael read out loud. Taking the sermon out of the notebook, he held it in his hands and threw it into the trashcan. It was supposed to be about welcoming a new church and new people to the neighborhood, and it turned into a blood bath, and God did nothing to help. Why is that a god to worship? God allows babies to be born addicted to drugs. God allows a church to fall on those who are there to worship. God allows disease to ravage villages without medical care. God allows good people to suffer loss for no reason other than free will. This is the god that he once worshipped. Thinking about it now leaves nothing but a bitter taste in his mouth when speaking the word ‘God.’”

Grabbing the notebooks he walked back into the kitchen, and sat at the table. He looked at the mail that has been allowed to accumulate over the last few days, he gathered it up and started sorting through it. The fourth letter in the stack was a plain white envelope with his name crudely written. There was no return address written on it anywhere. There was just something about it that was begging to be opened before the others. Tearing open the top of the envelope he pulled out the letter.

Dear Father Joseph,

My name is Tommy Bills. I know that probably doesn’t mean anything as I doubt you remember me, but my brother is Beau Rogers. I hope that you keep reading this letter. I need your help. My brother I know is the very last person that you would want to help, but as a priest I am begging for your assistance. I know what he did was a wrong that he could never make right, but I know it wasn’t him. PLEASE KEEP READING! The last two months before he committed his crime he changed---

Not wanting to read anymore he put the letter down on the table and wiped his eyes.

Staring at the letter the anger turned into pain. Slamming back the drink that was in the glass he re-filled the glass with straight Jack, and downed the shot, re-filled and shot again. Looking at the clock he saw it was far too late to call Joshua, besides he would want to come over and even though Joshua had seen him at his worst he didn’t want to be seen like this. Having another two shots the alcohol was finally going to his head. Turning off the light in the kitchen, he shuffled to the couch. Turning on the TV for company he laid his head back and closed his eyes.

There was no light but he kept walking. The floor was hard. Concrete. It felt slick under each foot fall, and the sound of his foot falls echoed off the walls. A cold breeze flowed past him making him shiver. The temperature drastically dropped forcing him to huddle down in the darkness. From nowhere the lights turned on revealing tier upon tier of prison cells. Michael could see every icy breath he took. There came a sound of something rustling high above his head. Before his very eyes paper started falling from nowhere.

The falling papers reminded him of falling leaves from trees on a windy autumn day.

Picking up one page that fell at his feel he recognized it as a page from the bible. The 23rd psalm. In bold black writing Michael read aloud to the silence, “Father please help my brother for he knew not what he did.” Crumpling it up and tossing it aside he picked up another page, from Revelations the story of the coming of the red horse, scrawled across the page in black ink of a different writer; “Father please forgive me, but I enjoyed seeing the worthless bitch bleed. In hell does she reside, she has made the devil a beautiful bride.”

The emotion boiled up and was about to burst until Michael heard a low guttural growl from behind him. Spinning around on his heels he came to rest his eyes on a dirty red-gray dog in the middle of the hallway. Growling and showing its’ pearly white teeth it licked its’ lips as it walked in a zigzag formation to ensure that any idea of running past it was an idea that would not remain very long in someone’s thoughts. The growling of the animal ceased as the wind picked up. The cell doors opened and slammed shut with mechanical squeaks and clunks. When the doors stopped slamming Michael looked back at the dog. The once vicious dog was now cowering and whimpering. Michael made up his mind that whatever made the change in the dog was something that he did not want to face. There came the sound of only one cell door slamming open. Looking to his right Michael could see from the dimly lit hall there was a shadowy figure sitting on the bunk in the cell.

“I can smell your fear priest. You reek of it.” The figure said. Standing there frozen Michael shut his eyes tightly and opened them again. The figure is still there. The dog was still cowering and backing away from them disappearing into the shadows. Turning to face the figure head on Michael found it impossible to take a step forward. Finally when he was standing in the door of the cell there was a stench of human waste that made it difficult to continue any farther into the cell. The figure started laughing. Taking that as a challenge Michael took one step inside the cell, and the figure stopped laughing, and sat there silent.

“Who are you?” Michael asked trying not to make his voice shake, and trying to keep his stomach out of his throat as the smell was permeating his entire being.

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if she was still alive?” The figure asked. Floored by the question anger rose from his heart and suddenly the cold didn’t bother him anymore.

“Who are you?” Michael screamed.

“You know who I am Priest.” The figure said with a hiss.

“I don’t know you.” Michael said trying to sound defiant in his tone. Before Michael could flinch the figure rushed towards him standing toe to toe. Standing there the figure held the sides of Michaels head in its’ cold hands. The smell of the creature’s breath took the air out of Michael’s lungs. The creature opened its’ eyelids and showed eyes that were entirely black and lifeless.

“I am the thing in the dark that you fear. I am the sin whispered during confession. I am the one you deny but know exists. I am the one who gives you nightmares. I have known you since you crawled out of you mothers stench into life. Do you deny me still?” The creature bellowed and threw Michael backwards away from the cell. Michael hit back first and let out a grunt, when his head it the floor he let out another grunt. All he could do is lay there and hope that the creature would not finish what it started. His head hurt, and he felt exhausted. Laying there feeling the pain carry him off in nauseating waves he thought it may not be so bad to just let go, and let the creature come for him. The moment the thought it would be the best thing to give up, he allowed his body to go limp on the cold, hard concrete floor surrounded by darkness.

10

“Come on you son-of-a-bitch!” Someone shouted. With a big splash of ice water on his face Michael slightly opened his eyes. Through crusty hazy sleep he peered up at Joshua’s face.

“Come on wake-up!” Joshua shouted at him again.

“I’m awake, I’m awake. What time is it?” Michael asked trying to gain his bearings. “It’s one-thirty in the afternoon. I’ve been calling since eleven this morning. Jeez Mike

it’s taken me ten minutes to wake your drunken ass up. What the hell man? Do you have any idea

what horrible things I thought I would find coming over here not being able to reach you on the phone?” Joshua shouted at him.

“I’m sorry, I guess I had too much to drink last night.” Michael surmised as he picked up the almost empty bottle of Jack from the floor and placed it on the island in the kitchen.

“Alcohol isn’t the answer Mike. It will only make things worse.” Joshua said as he leaned on the kitchen’s bar. Laughing sarcastically Michael poured a shot and slammed it back. He walked to the kitchen and leaned on the bar next to Joshua.

“It sure helps when you read that letter.” Michael said pointing to the kitchen table where the letter that pushed him to the drunken dream sat.

“What’s that?” Joshua asked. Picking himself up off of the kitchen bar. Michael placed the bottle of the remaining Jack on the table, retrieved a clean glass and set it next to the bottle. Next he moved to the light switch and turned on the light for better reading and moved the chair for comfort.

“There you go, dive right in. I’ll be in the shower.” Michael said and walked to the bathroom. Once in the shower, feeling the water flow over his body was relaxing, but he couldn’t help but get flashes of his dream every time he closed his eyes.

-She made the devil a beautiful bride in the different writing- He opened his eyes and put some shampoo in his hair.

-The growling cowering dog backing away into the shadows-

He opened his eyes and didn’t close them again while he was in the shower, not even to rinse the soap from his hair.

After dressing and readying himself for Joshua’s opinion of the letter, he made his way to the kitchen. Pulling up a chair at the table Michael found a stunned Joshua sitting there with his mouth slightly agape with an empty glass in his left hand. Noticing that Michael was sitting with him at the table Joshua looked up from the letter and tears rolled down his cheeks. Michael took up his own glass and split the remaining liquor between both glasses for them to share.

“Well?” Michael said with a sigh.

“I uh... I don’t know what to say. Have you called him?” Joshua answered. “Called who?” Michael asked.

“Tommy Bills.” Joshua said.

“Oh. I didn’t read the whole thing. After everything that happened yesterday, Mrs. Kinsey giving me Joanna’s suit she was going to wear that day, having to put it into her closet, and the dreams I couldn’t take anymore. I could only get through the first few lines. Michael said as he took a sip from the glass.

“He left his number, 207-989-8140.” Joshua offered.

“I don’t think he will want to hear anything I have to say.” Michael stated.

“I think you should read the letter then make that decision.” Joshua stated. Knowing he was right Michael took another sip from his glass, picked up the letter, and began to read.

Dear Father Joseph,

My name is Tommy Bills, I know that doesn’t mean much, as I doubt you remember me, but my brother is Beau Rogers. I hope that you keep reading this letter. I need your help! My brother, I know is the very last person that you would want to help, but as a priest I am begging for your assistance. I know what he did was a wrong that he could never make right, but I know it wasn’t him. PLEASE KEEP READING! The last two months before he committed his crime he changed from someone I knew to something I didn’t recognize. I don’t have the words to express my condolences for what he has done to your

family. But I hope you will give me the chance to prove that there was and is something wrong with him. I can’t say for sure what it is that is wrong but I know as a priest you will be able to see and understand what is wrong and I hope that you will be able to help him. Please call me anytime day or night as soon as you can at 207-989-8140. I believe he is possessed by something. That is the only way that I can describe it. Please, please call. I desperately need your help.

Thank you for your time Father. Sincerely Tommy Rogers Bills.

“It’s obvious that the kid has an over active imagination, nor did he hear that I am not a priest anymore so he’s barking up the wrong tree. Sounds like something up your alley. Maybe you should give him a call.” Michael said as he tossed the letter in the middle of the table.

“You may not practice your vows anymore Michael, but you’re still a priest, always will be.” Joshua stated. Slamming his fist on the table Michael swung out of the chair and leaned against the kitchen sink with his arms crossed.

“I may have taken a vow, but I don’t believe in that vow anymore. How can I pray to a god who sees fit to murder an innocent woman and children in his house of worship? And don’t give me any bullshit that he works in mysterious ways or that he has a plan for everything ok. I tried to choke that down after Joanna died. I didn’t buy it then and I don’t buy it now. All the things I once believed in just don’t mean anything anymore. I can’t help him. Michael said.

“Maybe if you help him you will help yourself. Maybe…” Joshua started. “That’s an awful lot of maybes Josh.” Michael interrupted.

“Nothing is certain Michael you know that.” Joshua said.

“I know. I just can’t help him. There’s nothing that I can do for him.” Michael advised. “I understand that I really do. Are you going to call him?” Joshua asked.

“I don’t know I will have to think about it.” Michael stated.

“What’s on your agenda for today, what’s left of it that is?” Joshua asked.

“Well I need more Jack, and I need to go to the library. I found a book that Joanna checked out. After that come home and watch TV I guess.” Michael said.

“Are you up for the library thing?” Joshua asked.

“What else is there?” Michael stated rather then asked. Standing up from the table Joshua gave Michael a hug and started towards the front door. Stepping on the porch Joshua turned to face Michael before he walked down the steps.

“Promise me that you will take it easy on the alcohol, and that you won’t take anything with it.” Joshua asked with a sad look in his eyes.

“I promise. You have nothing to worry about.” Michael said trying to reassure his friend. With a soft smile Joshua turned and walked down the steps. Michael watched his friend get into his car and pull away. There was something different about the car across the street. Michael tried to run the catalog of cars belonging to his neighbors through his mind, and this dark blue Toyota did not fit.

“This isn’t so outta place so they bought a new car or have a visitor. Get a grip!” Shaking his head at the thought of creeping paranoia entering the picture, he took a deep breath and closed the front door.