Alexa visited me that night. I told her of this “new boy in the neighborhood,” and she reassured me that, no matter what, she would always be there for me and that any girl would be lucky to have me.
“Yeah, sure,” I said.
Soon, she had me forgetting all about Beth and laughing my head off. I then turned serious.
“Are you real?” I asked.
“Do I look real?’’
“Yeah, too real. And beautiful too,” I said.
“Well, then, consider me real,” she said and smiled.
I nodded.
The next morning, I started questioning my sanity. As much as I wanted to believe it, she couldn’t be real. As a nonbeliever in God, how could I justify talking to an angel? I decided to not question it and just enjoy the ride.
My mom cornered me that day after work. “I’d like for you to talk with Reverend Randolph. He wants to know how you’re doing since your father’s death.”
“Tell him I’m fine.”
“Steven?” She grabbed my face. “For me, please?”
“Sure.”
“And by the way, where have you been going? Your pants smell like honeysuckle.”
I smelled them. They smelled like the flowers that were on the hillside where I would meet with Alexa in my dreams.
I went over to the Randolphs’ house, and Miguel opened the door.
“Steven, my friend! How nice of you to stop in. I take it you are here to see Reverend Randolph.”
“Yeah.”
“Right this way.” He showed me to the Reverend’s study.
“Steven, please come in and have a seat. Your mother said you wanted to see me.”
“Well, no actually…”
“Your father’s death was a shock to us all. But we can all learn from it.”
I interrupted him. “Have you ever met an angel?” I asked. “Have you ever seen an angel?”
“Well, no, Steven, why do you ask? Have you?”
I didn’t want to tip my hand, and if I confessed to talking to an angel, my mom would have me committed to an insane asylum. “Just wondering, you know, just…interested.”
He went on with his speech, none of which I listened to. But I did hear laughter coming from the other room. It was Miguel and Beth. I thanked the Reverend, who was mid-sentence, and excused myself. As I left, they continued laughing.
“Bye, Steven,” Miguel said. Had they heard me asking about angels? Is that why they were laughing? The whole Alexa thing was getting fun, but when my pants smelled like the flowers in my dream, it had me confused, and I searched for a reasonable explanation.
My meetings with Alexa were now an every-night event. I would drift off, then be awakened to the sweet smell of honeysuckle and the warmth of her being when she was near. We laughed. I would chase her around the tree. I would tell her my dreams. I would tell her my most private thoughts.
I was falling in love with her.
“How come I can only see you in my dreams?” I asked.
“That’s where I belong,” she said.
“I…I just miss you during the day. That’s all.”
“Do you want me to visit you during the day? I will.”
“Alexa?”
“Yes, Steven.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
We kissed.
Once again, the moment was ruined by my annoying alarm clock. I got out of bed and started to leave. I picked up my clothes and smelled them. It was the honeysuckle.
The following morning, when was halfway done with my mowing, I was wondering how Alexa would present herself. I was eager with anticipation when I felt her warmth and smelled her fragrance.
She was with me.
Inside of me.
I felt complete.
I probably looked like a jerk, outside riding on a mower with a goofy grin on my face.
She would stay with me all day unless I had to talk to someone, then she would disappear. I tried to avoid interaction with everyone.
The nighttime was filled with chasing her, catching her, and professing my love to her.
“Marry me,” I said.
“Steven, I can’t marry you. I am not of this world.”
“If I died, could we be together?” I asked.
“Steven! Don’t talk like that. Your mother needs you. Your time on Earth is not over.”
“I’m going to buy you a ring! I’m going to buy you a ring, and then we can say some vows to each other under the big oak tree,” I said excitedly.
Alexa suddenly got a serious look on her face. “Oh, Steven, I would love that.”
We kissed. I knew for sure that I had found my soulmate.
The following day, I took all of my earnings from the golf course and bought two rings―one for each of us. No diamonds, but whatever $112 could buy, and I was extremely proud of the steel-like finish they possessed.
That night we waited for dark. We stood underneath the big oak tree and read our vows. I remember the moon being so close and so bright that the words were easy to read. When we were done reading, we kissed. With a gentle breeze behind us, we walked to a nearby forest. We lay down and consummated our marriage. It was quick, awkward, and beautiful. I fell asleep.
I awoke early to go to work. I was constantly checking the ring on my finger. Even though I was still a kid in every way possible, I felt like an adult. I made a vow to get my life together―buckle down at school, go to college, and make a life for Alexa and me. It made me wonder about my dad. I bet getting married had made him dedicated to making his life a success.
Sometimes I would get doubts. I knew this was not a traditional relationship.
But it was all I had.
I had no other friends.
In the meantime, Beth and Miguel were obviously a couple. They went everywhere together. The rumor was that he had taken her virginity, and I was hoping that that was not the case. I had noticed that the congregation was increasing dramatically, and I was sure that Reverend Randolph was licking his chops at all the money they were bringing in. The church had added an extra service on Sunday nights, and Miguel was the main draw. I still felt uncomfortable around him, but I thought it was just leftover feelings I had for Beth.
Chapter 4
Summer ended, and the start of my senior year commenced. I thought to myself, I bet I’m the only guy who married an angel over summer vacation. I was incredibly happy, and even with summer ending, my job at the golf course over, and knowing that I would have to return to my duties on Sunday mornings, I felt complete.
It was just over a week into school, and I was drifting off to sleep. For some reason, Alexa was not with me that day as much as I had hoped for.
I awoke on the hill with the wildflowers. I made my way to the oak tree where we would meet. I could feel that something was not right. My feet felt heavy, and the flowers were dying as I passed them. The mighty oak was sagging. The bright green leaves turned brown and fell in a matter of seconds.
I saw Alexa. Her hair looked dirty. Her white gown was soiled, and her brown eyes looked hollow. As small as her stature was, she looked even more frail than usual. I was mortified.
“The game is over,” said a voice coming from over my shoulder. I turned around. It was Miguel and two hulking, monstrous men. He was dressed in all black, and he seemed much bigger than usual. Black cindery smoke seemed to ooze from his body.
He walked past me and stood by Alexa. His two henchmen stood on both sides of me. “You’ve been fooled, my friend,” he said.
“Alexa! What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, Steven!” she said. “I had to do it! He has my soul! I had to trick you!”
“You see, Steven, I needed you out of the way,” Miguel said. “I needed Beth all to myself. What better way to secure my legacy and ensure my immortality than to plant my seed in the virgin daughter of a holy man?”
I yelled, “Alexa! Run!”
As Alexa started to mov
e, Miguel grabbed her by the throat and began shaking her violently. I tried to attack him, but his two henchmen grabbed me. My five foot, nine inch, 130 pound frame was no match for them. He threw her to the ground. Miguel raised his arms, and Alexa’s body turned to dust.
“No!” I yelled. I kept hoping that this wasn’t real. I was coughing, and my eyes were full of cinder. I went from mad to vengeful. “Miguel! I’ll kill you, you sonuvabitch!”
Miguel turned and laughed. “You? Kill me? Why, you’re just a mortal!” Miguel and his two cohorts turned and disappeared into the distance.
I rushed over to the remains of Alexa. I was sifting through her ashes, hoping to somehow resurrect her. All that was left was the ring I had given her. I held it tight. I sat and cried for what seemed like hours. I wondered how I was going to get back home. I walked and would hear Alexa’s voice calling me, first from one direction and then a different one. It was either my imagination or Miguel playing tricks on me.
There was only one explanation.
Miguel was the Devil.
I was finally too exhausted to proceed and collapsed.
I awoke in my bed in a panic. I was still clutching Alexa’s ring in my hand. I placed her ring on my little finger next to my ring. I felt I had to get to school and warn Beth and everyone else that Miguel was Satan! I drove like a mad person and ran into the school. I found Miguel and Beth near the cafeteria.
“Beth! Stay away from him! He’s Satan! Miguel is the Devil!” I yelled.
“Steven, don’t be silly,” Beth said.
I lunged for Miguel and tried to throw a punch. He easily sidestepped me, and I went crashing into some chairs. As I struggled to get up, I heard laughing. Everyone around was laughing. I kept yelling, “Everyone! Everyone! He’s the Devil! Miguel is the Devil!”
I was grabbed by some male teachers and taken to the nurse’s office and sedated. I could hear people talking. “Poor Steven. He still hasn’t gotten over his father’s death.”
After a couple of hours, my mom came and picked me up. It was a very quiet ride home, and I refused to talk to her. If I confessed all that I had been through, she would have me committed.
As soon as I got home, I took a shower. The water that came off me was gray. It was the cinder that had surrounded Miguel’s body.
I was expelled and told to seek counseling. The Randolphs thought it best that I stay away from Miguel and Beth, and that they would find someone else to help with setting up chairs on Sunday mornings.
To Hell with the Randolphs, I thought.
I found that counseling was easy if you just went with the flow and agreed with everything they said. But I was still in mourning. I missed Alexa terribly. And with her gone, the wounds of my dad’s death came creeping back. I was also the butt of many jokes. It was just one of the downsides of living in a small town.
Chapter 5
I never realized how much time my mom spent at work (church). But now, not being in school, it seemed like she was never home. I began resenting her. Now, more than ever, I needed her, and she wasn’t here. Maybe Dad would still be alive if Mom had stayed home more.
The counselor had recommended that I not drive. But I would find myself sitting in Dad’s car in the driver’s seat in the middle of the day. The smell was still familiar and comforting. It became my favorite place to cry about my dad and Alexa.
One day, I had my hands on the wheel and my head buried against my hands, crying. There was a tapping on the side window that startled me.
Staring at me was a short, pudgy man about five foot nothing and as round as he was tall. He only had a few teeth and yellow fingers from years of smoking.
“Are you Steven? Are you the young man who has seen the Devil?”
Fearing it was just another joker looking to make fun of me, I answered, “No, go away.”
He continued, “I believe you. I think I can help you. You see, I have seen him also.”
I rolled my window down, and he introduced himself. “I’m Father Patrick from the Catholic Church on the edge of town. Maybe you’ve seen it?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I thought it was closed.”
“Yes, well, most people think that.” He chuckled.
We talked, and I reluctantly agreed to meet with him.
The next day, I biked almost four miles from my house to this old, dilapidated church. The whole time, I wondered how Father Patrick had even made it to my house, as I didn’t see him arrive in a car. Halfway there, I had realized how out of shape I was. Dad and I used to make this trek regularly. I had been hoping for a ride back to my house.
I struggled to open the huge wooden doors to the church. As I walked in, it seemed vacant. A voice from above called out, “Steven? Is that you?” I was startled, but I answered back. “Stay right there. I’ll be right down.” I was relieved to find that it was only Father Patrick’s voice.
He led me to his study. As he opened the door, I stood in amazement at the number of books and artifacts he had accumulated.
“The Devil is kind of my hobby. Well…more like an obsession,” he said. “You see, Steven, I have battled the Devil and his demons many times.”
“You mean metaphorically, right?” I asked.
“Oh no!” he said. “We go back past the Dark Ages.” He could see the doubt in my eyes. “So it’s OK for you to come here and tell me you’ve seen the Devil? But when I say I fought him 700 years ago, you don’t believe me?”
“So,” I asked, “you must be…”
“Yes, an immortal.” He paused. “I can see you’re not convinced. Come with me.”
I followed Father Patrick to a small door that lead to a narrow brick staircase. We followed it down, curving to the left and then to the right. He was carrying a small torch that seemed to ignite the cobwebs. We were so far down that there was groundwater seeping between the bricks.
We finally came to an open doorway. Inside was an old table and chairs and what looked like an old treasure chest. He had me hold the torch, and he lifted the lid. It was full of jewelry, swords, knives, and religious crosses.
“Steven, do you believe in God?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Well, you better start if you want to battle Satan. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure how powerful these talismans and amulets are anymore. I haven’t used them since the 1500s.” He made it sound so casual.
He started rummaging through the chest like a kid going through a toy box. All the time, he was muttering under his breath. “Now, where did I put that?”
He retrieved several pieces and proceeded to give me a history lesson.
“Steven, I may not look like it now, but I was once a member of an elite fighting group. I was promoted to lead the Brotherhood of the Arch Angels and take the place of a warrior who was past his prime. I was also granted immortality by the church elders. I know what you’re thinking: ‘He doesn’t look immortal.’ There are many myths regarding immortality. We survive because of the power we possess through talismans, amulets, crosses, and the spirit of previous warriors. But our vessels (bodies) are prone to injury when we battle other immortals. There comes a time when we can’t perform as an elite warrior and we seek younger warriors to take our place.”
He pointed to a statue of Archangel Michael standing over a serpent, ready to lance him with a sword. “We battled the Devil and his demons every day. Sometimes it lasted for decades. But times change, and the elders of the Catholic Church disbanded us.
“When we separated, I kept all of the weapons and powerful amulets. The Church threatened to revoke my immortality if I didn’t return them and insist that I find a younger replacement they approved of. I told them I would go to the papers and divulge everything. With all the latest scandals the church has had to deal with, they didn’t want this to go public. So they let me live here in this old church as long as I keep quiet.
“You know,” Father Patrick remarked, “you bear a striking resemblance to the warrior Michael.”
>
I knew that he was just being nice.
In the future, whenever I would enter the church, this statue would always catch my eye, and it would appear as though Michael was looking right at me. Creepy.
“So, convinced yet?” he asked.
“Um… sure,” I said, not so convincingly.
He then showed me an unbelievably ugly ring on his hand and attempted to remove it. His face turned red, and beads of sweat formed on his upper lip. He was struggling.
“Maybe it’s not supposed to come off,” I said.
He made numerous attempts to remove this ring that looked like it had been beaten and been through Hell.
Father Patrick abruptly left, climbing the stairs and entering his office. I could hear him swearing and pleading with someone behind the door. But I was sure that there was no one with him.
He exited his office with a bloody rag on his one hand and his Battle Ring in the other.
Breathing heavily.
“If you doubt me, take this ring. It is only one of seven in existence. It’s the one I wore in battle. Put it on for your safety. Miguel will be hesitant to bother you with this in your possession. He will sense that you have it, and it will make him uncomfortable. It will give you extraordinary powers and bravery when facing Evil. But it won’t work unless you believe in it. And you can’t fear Miguel. If you fear him, he will own you. And don’t dare let it fall into the hands of Evil, or it would be catastrophic!”
I thanked him for the gesture but declined to take it.
He grabbed my hand, physically opening it and placing the ring in the palm of my hand.
He stared at me. “Steven! It’s imperative that you take this ring!”
I thanked Father Patrick, put the ring on, and headed for home. The bike ride home seemed less taxing on my body. As I got closer to home and was riding by the Randolphs, the ring had a warm glow to it. I had a feeling of confidence, strength, and defiance. I chuckled to myself.
Chapter 6
The Killing of Miguel Page 2