Death is Not the End, Daddy

by Nate Allen

throat has mostly cleared. “But, I’m not falling away anymore.”

  Immediately, her eyes are at peace. She doesn’t need me to explain anything more than that. Maybe it’s something she sees in me that has been missing.

  “You should sleep, sweetheart. Your eye looks worse. And you are past exhausted.” she rubs my face and then kisses it. “Just let yourself sleep. I’ll get you an ice pack for that eye. Go and lay down.” she stands up and walks to the kitchen before I say anything.

  I haven’t even asked her if the cops came yet. I assume they have, but she hasn’t mentioned it. I suppose it doesn’t matter. If they did come, they took a statement, maybe an extra picture of Marcy, and left with some rehearsed set of words.

  “What are you going to paint?” I ask as she comes back into the living room, with an ice pack in her hand.

  “I want to paint the light I saw today, with Jesus’ hands coming from it. And even though the room was dark, I want to paint black only on the far edges, like the darkness is trying to get as far away from the light as possible.”

  “It’ll be your best one yet.” I smile as I stand.

  Her face is lit up like a little girl’s. “Really?!”

  My smile grows as I nod my head. “I’m just happy to see you painting again. You haven’t in so long.”

  “I know. But, it’s alive in me again. I am alive again.”

  I wish I could feel the same way, but I’m still struggling. It’s human to hurt. Isn’t it? I know that Marcy is with You, Lord. And even though I trust You with all I have, it doesn’t change the hurt. It doesn’t change that I want to hold my little girl in my arms. She isn’t an idol in my heart anymore. I just miss my little girl. I just want her back.

  “I’m tired.” I whisper as I grab the ice pack from her. Janet’s eyes immediately change, as if she knows the multiple meanings of that statement. I can see that she wants to say something, but doesn’t know what.

  “I’m gonna lay down.” I say softly as I kiss her cheek. I press the pack to my swollen eye and walk down the hall toward our bedroom.

  John Doe

  I am losing everything. It doesn’t matter how far I’ve come. It doesn’t matter what I was told or what I believe. Even though he is now just a bear tipped over with his stuffing exposed, Teddy is still holding me as his puppet. His eyes are a soft red glow again. He knows how to reduce me back to the weak, hopeless man I have always been. He doesn’t deny the truth about dad. Instead, now that it has been revealed to me, he proudly takes credit for it. He has pulled the image from my memories and pasted it into this moment: I see dad hanging in the doorway of the shed, as clear as when it happened. And I am unable to move. I close my eyes. But, the warmth that filled me through and through is now cold. I can no longer hold onto what mom told me.

  Something is rising up from the center of me. It isn’t tears building. It isn’t pain. It’s pressure without an origin. Pressure that I should recognize, but don’t. Even with my eyes closed, I only see dad hanging. And now I hear the quiet laugh of Teddy, rising up all around me. He’s mocking me, aware that control is falling back into his hands. I don’t know how to stop it.

  “Jesus!” I scream. But, it’s not me. It’s the pressure exploding out of me. “Save me!”

  Everything quiets immediately. Teddy’s laugh is gone. My eyes open effortlessly, like a curtain falling away on a stage. And what I see is darkness lit, where light is now growing out of the ground like grass, stroked across the branches, painted on the front and sides of the shed, and bursting from the doorway. And now in the sky, the darkness is peeling away, revealing white light. Not day light, but something cleaner.

  “I don’t know You, Jesus. But, I want to.” I whisper as I stand up. “I need to know You. Without You, I am nothing. I’m this weak, stupid man. Empty and dead inside. There is no real strength in me. But, with You, I am strong. I only need to say Your name, and I feel fully alive. Alive in a way I’ve never been before.” I pause, as my feet pull me toward the shed. “If it’s really true that I can be forgiven, please forgive me for all of the pain I have caused. Forgive me for the lives I have ruined, the lives I have taken away. I don’t deserve forgiveness, but if you will, forgive me. Make me new. I don’t want to be this person anymore. I need You in my life.”

  The darkness in the sky is only left over flakes, like old paint being peeled away. My walk has become a run. The light is brighter in the shed. It’s the center of this light. The presence emanating from it is something I can’t reach fast enough. It isn’t just light, it’s love. It’s the feeling of every happy moment I’ve ever experienced, multiplied by a countless number.

  You have purpose, John. I can barely stand. His voice is coming at me from the trees, the sky, the ground, the tips of my fingers, the beating of my heart. It’s present in my every pulse, in my every thought. I know you through and through.

  I’ve fallen to my knees. The light is surrounding me from everywhere. I can feel it passing through me. Changing me.

  What’s to come will not be easy, John. But, I am always with you. Even in the dark. immediately, the light disappears. All of it. What it leaves behind is the dark it overtook. But, I feel no fear.

  I am changed. Not just clean, or warm, or loved. Changed. And even though I don’t know what my purpose is, I can feel that I have one.

  Matthew Mills

 

  The ice pack is under the swollen side of my face like a pillow. The light of the hallway is causing my already throbbing head to pound even more, but it’s the only light I have. As soon as I entered our bedroom, I wanted to leave. But, I didn’t. I was too tired to turn back toward the hall, too tired to explain to Janet that our bedroom feels like a dungeon. I don’t know if it’s just this room, but I feel trapped. And my thoughts have grown into heavy weights, literally holding my body to this bed: I am worthless. My life is hopeless. I wish I was dead. It’s that familiar darkness that I know. But, I don’t know how to get away from it anymore.

  I am terrified, because I know something is inside of me. Something demonic. I can feel it turning every thought into an overwhelming desire to die. I’m thinking about the razors from my shaver. I’m thinking about bleeding out. I can’t stop it.

  The longer I lay, the louder it all gets. The weights have become literal hands pressing me into the bed. I feel watched from everywhere, like the walls, the ceiling, and the floor is riddled with eyes.

  “Daddy?” it’s Marcy’s voice, but it isn’t her. It’s that wrinkled creature. “It’s powerful!”

  She’s laughing in my ear. I can feel the spit. I can hear the growl behind the little girl.

  Matthew? amidst the chaos, I hear Jesus’ voice as if it’s the only one speaking.

  The weights haven’t lifted from my back. The laughing hasn’t stopped spitting at my ear. I’m still being pressed down. I’m still thinking about dying. The darkness hasn’t gone away. Nothing is different, except one thought. I’m able to think about Jesus. I’m able to imagine the warmth of His presence. And now I feel it. I feel what I haven’t felt since Janet’s miscarriage.

  There is a poison inside of you, Matthew. There is no chaos around me anymore. No more laughter. No weights holding me down. Just the quiet of the room. The warmth of Jesus’ presence. The whisper of His voice. I am not able to pull it out of you so easily, because it has been there for years, slowly eating away at your character, your energy, and your love for Me. Just like a cancer, it grows and multiplies. It fills your heart, corrodes your soul, and weakens your spirit. But, this day, Matthew, is the beginning of a process, where I pull that poison from you.

  His presence is gone as quickly as it came. But, what it’s left in me is a speechless soul, a stream of tears down my cheeks, and a rapid beating of my heart. I am alive again.

  John Doe

  I’m walking toward the shed, but it feels different than it ever has before, almost like I’m walking for the first time. My steps aren’t dif
ficult, but simple. No weights holding me down. No Teddy tingling through me. I’m not haunted anymore. I’ve walked toward this shed many times, but never as the person I have become. I am clean on the inside. Everything is new, despite all of the old: my long and dirty fingernails, my bloodstained musty clothes, my badly scarred face, and a past that doesn’t just disappear. Fifteen children are dead because of me. That doesn’t change, no matter how much I do.

  The closer I get to the shed, the clearer it becomes why I’m even walking toward it. There was a note dad left for me to find, a final message he wanted me to see. But, Teddy hid it from me. This is the final answer. This is the last time I am going to walk toward the shed. And once I leave, I’ll never be back.

  It’s not far away at all anymore. Yet, every step I take is harder than the last. I’m new now, but the idea that I could have been this person from the beginning—that’s what hurts. What would my life be had I never listened to Teddy? I could have been so much more. I probably wouldn’t have been an important person. But, fifteen children wouldn’t be dead because of me. And that’s all that matters.

  But, it’s a question that doesn’t matter. I did listen to Teddy. I did kill fifteen children. And after I have this final answer, my life will become a display: instead of being hidden, I will be seen. They