He sat there in front of the window after failing for the 10th time trying to reach out that year. The voices grew stronger in his mind and no diagnosis could dispel the fact that these voices belonged to a spirit world. They mocked him within ways that he could never make up, their intellectual strengths were far beyond his own imaginings and education. He was dying there, at that window. He hadn't eaten for many days and became fragile to their touch. He could feel them now on his verge with death. He also hated being left in the dark.. a crumpled old sweater in the corner of light could easily take the shape and form of death or evil eyes when the lights were off. "Paranoia" is what the good doctor would say but his experiences were none too wiser on that false claim.
Every night he held his bible beside his pillow, it was his last resort of protection as they would arise out of the shadows and creaks. They would climb out of anything non-living or passed away within that dwelling quarter and formalize their brilliant haunting. They wanted this soul and they wanted it badly. "We almost had you" they whisper. That day when all seemed lost and he juggled the pills in his right hand and a poisonous bottle in the left. He threw those things down and said, "I belong to God". He had help from his guardian angel who at times would disappear and he wouldn't notice. It was very much so like skipping prayer and on the day you continue to pray you've realized just how long its been since you did this good deed. One day a spark of courage was entrusted upon him, his hands had begun to smell of death and this was no gimmick to his awareness. This was real, the final proof he needed. He turned off the lights and one by one he threw those demons back into corners where he heard them howl and scream in agony. He built up the courage to bless water and flick his fingers that swirled from inside the cup. The cup was hot after a prayer. "Yes", he thought to himself, "this IS real".
They were pissed off at his new form of bravery. He had been planning to rid these old quarters of these demoniac spirits. At night they returned to him and he did use his new found form of spiritual warfare. He thought, "this is just imagination" until reminding himself, "No, this IS real". He knew his only chance was to "imagine" water. He gave to them a pool of sorts so they would leave him be. He knew that they must have been thirsty, they must have agonized because of the heat. He appeases these demonic souls this way. And they begin to respect him. he remembers a line from T. D Jakes, "Demons will respect you" and chuckles to himself. They tell him of all their secrets and when he found them to be lying he shut the water off.. they complained, but didn't attack.. yes, "this IS real". They tell him of an infinity child, something he could never make up- not in his wildest dreams. They tell more secrets for the water they crave.. "Am I still alive" he wonders and they tell him yes. They tell him of all the different kinds of demons from the pit, the kind who are far too strong to be manipulated by gifts of water. The kind that patrol the depths of hell. He fears they tell him this because it might be where he ends up, but they conclude with "We were trying to rob you from God. It was our mission", "Yes" he thinks to himself, "this IS real". He excuses the spring of water to the halls of the hospital which reminded him of Christ giving legion mercy by allowing him to fall into a pool of water before its demise. He chuckles now because he understands why.. they thirst and must pay for the water where they are from. Every drop is expensive.
He shuts his eyes to sleep.. no more hauntings.. no more shadowy figures.. everything is peaceful, the medicine is working. He feels a hint of doubt that any of it truly did transpire. He feels the adventure and scare leaving him for reality and worldly views.. but he hears a whisper just before he nods off, "Remember.. this IS real".
- Inked Pen