by Nate Allen
car. An urgency is starting to build on the inside of me. I need to bring M home before the end of this day. The digital clock in the car says it’s a few minutes after five. I have just enough time if I leave right now. I don’t know why getting her home by midnight matters. I just know it does. The more I learn about my purpose, the easier it is to read the details attached.
Without looking out at the property again, I put the car into reverse and back away from it.
Matthew Mills
The officer told Janet something I don’t even remember hearing and then walked away. She hasn’t said a word since the officer left. She has hardly even looked at me. Does she actually think I did it? Is that why she is being quiet? I don’t know what to say to her. I shouldn’t have to defend myself. She should know that I would never do that. She should know.
We’re walking toward my Escape in silence. I don’t know what she’s thinking. No clues are written on her face. No bent lip. No wandering eyes. No pauses or attempts to speak. She’s just quiet. The longer she goes without speaking, the more it hurts.
“Say something.” I mutter as I open the passenger door for her. This isn’t how a new beginning with her should feel. I feel judged and dissected. I feel like I have to defend myself.
“I know you didn’t do it, Matty.” she stops and looks at me. “I’m praying that they’ll know that too, that the Lord will open their eyes to the truth. I never thought you did it. Not even for a second.” she smiles something reassuring at me as she kisses my lips softly. And then she gets into the car. I close her door.
It’s what I needed to hear. She didn’t doubt me for a moment. Not even for a second. It makes every word that she said to me inside the house even more special.
Some part of me wants to blame God for this: first Marcy? And now this?! But, it’s my fault. This is a consequence for following Ms. Brands when I was told to leave her alone. This is a consequence. And the outcome is out of my hands. It’s my word against what they believe happened.
Lord, I trust You with everything. This is my own doing, my own mistake. But, Your Word says that You turn even what the enemy means for bad and use it for good. The enemy is trying to destroy me. He set in motion a plan that I walked right into. He’s trying to frame me. But, You are my Savior, more than able to deliver me. Let the truth be known, Lord.
I open the driver door and get in. Janet starts the car from where she’s at, and immediately takes hold of my hand, meshing her fingers with mine.
John Doe
This town doesn’t resemble what it was when I entered it earlier today. It’s hard to describe. Every shut down shop is still as empty as when I arrived, every house is still empty and forgotten, and every street branching from Main leads to the same emptiness. On the surface, it hasn’t changed. But below the surface, it has. Ever since Teddy caused those three boys to jump from the downtown bridge, Minea has been a place for secrets, a place for curses, a place for him to control.
But now I realize even Teddy’s power was small. What took him twenty six years to build has been taken away in less than a day. It only took the mention of Jesus for everything to change.
Matthew Mills
I back the car out and drive toward the police station. Even from here, I can see Ms. Brand’s house. Two cop cars are parked along her curb with the lights still flashing. A white van is parked in her driveway.
I see Janet looking out the window. Her face is pulled down into a sad display.
“What do you think happened to her?” she asks without looking toward me, her fingers now seeming restless with mine.
Does Janet need to hear what I think? Does she need to hear that I think the evil Ms. Brands was exposed to ended up killing her just as it did her Dizzy and Gizmo? And that now it’s trying to frame me? Would she even believe that? Janet hasn’t experienced the demonic like I have. She didn’t see it in Ms. Brands; she didn’t see the change in her personality, the quiet growls that came from her. She saw a lady with lost eyes. She didn’t see what was beneath them.
“I don’t know.” it’s not a lie. I don’t have the details. I shouldn’t bog her down with them, especially now, as we’re driving down to the police station.
“I think you know more than you want to say. Is that it?” now she’s looking at me.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I’ll tell you later.” I look at her, and smile. “I promise.”
Her restless fingers have calmed and mesh with mine again as she looks back out the window. The peace covering her amazes me. Her faith is child-like. She doesn’t need to know why this is happening. She accepts that it is, and holds onto the Lord’s words with all she has: it’s going to be okay. Those five words have carried her through this day and continue to. I know it will be okay, but that doesn’t mean the hardest days of our lives aren’t ahead of us. That doesn’t mean that the road to that promise won’t be dark and painful—is this just the fear talking? What happened to the assurance I had before the police officer came? The newness I felt? The renewal? Do I still feel that?
I don’t know. Once again, I am a man split in half. There is a part of me filled with peace that matches Janet’s. But, there is also a part of me that’s absolutely terrified. And that’s the part that is overwhelming. That’s the part that makes my old anger seem new. That’s the part of me that wants to curse God and question His almighty power.
Even with all the change He has done in me, there is always a part that wants to deny, wants to negate, wants to explain it all away. It’s inescapable. It’s my biggest enemy, able to undo my certainty and leave it a mess of jumbled knots.
Calm me, Lord. Give me the peace that Janet has. Give me the strength to keep my eyes on You, even as these waves crash all around me, even as the current tries to pull me under—help me to keep my eyes on You.
John Doe
Like my life with Teddy, Minea is behind me. Except… when I close my eyes, I can still see it. When I close my eyes, I’m not leaving but driving toward it. I don’t know if I’ll ever really get to completely leave. I’m free from Teddy, but I’m not free from the memories. Maybe that will come with time. Or maybe that’s part of my consequence.
I’m a selfish person, selfish in my newness. I want more than what I have. I want Minea to disappear from my mind completely, not to linger as a nightmare. I want a new start. I want my mind to match my soul. But, I know that isn’t realistic or even fair of me to ask. Those memories stick to me like my skin because they have been me for so long. All of the things that I leave behind still belong to me in some way. Even in my newness, some of the filth remains.
Why does my security seem to disappear as I drive out into the dark? I’ve walked in the dark for most of my life, without any sort of light. Now that I have the Light, why am I more afraid of the dark? Teddy is powerless. But, my memories don’t portray him as powerless. Now with a complete picture, my memories cast Teddy as a master puppeteer. If I build him back up in my mind, could he find his way to me again? If I believe he is still powerful, could he return?
The headlights on this car are weak and dim. The darkness covers everything. And I feel watched from everywhere. It’s familiar, like returning to an empty home. It’s what I know. My mind doesn’t want me to accept my freedom. It doesn’t even know what to do with the reality. It wants what is familiar. It wants to go back home, back to what it has always known.
I know the darkness much more than the light. I know Teddy much more than I know Jesus. I hate to admit that. But, it’s true. I know hatred much more than love. Pain much more than peace. And anger much more than calm. But, I’m new. I have to keep saying that.
“I’m new.” when I say it out loud, it only seems to echo from someplace empty. My heart? My soul? My fear that only seems to be growing?
Since leaving my childhood property, the reality of my freedom, the reality of Jesus has started to run through my fingers like precious sand. What feels real right now is the darkn
ess surrounding me, the memories flashing before me, the dread coursing through me. What I feel is all consuming.
But, something small remains within. It’s a small impulse, growing stronger as I focus on it. I know what I’m going to say. Somehow, it feels more familiar than the darkness I’ve known for all these years.
“Jesus.” it’s a quiet call, one I’ve repeated many times today. “Help me.”
Suddenly, a streak of bright red color appears across the horizon ahead of me. It’s the last of the sunset, seen only at this moment because I’m driving down a decline. And it bleeds into me immediately. Jesus isn’t gone. He is in everything.
Matthew Mills
The police station looks like the thrift store it’s next to: a small brick building with outdated signs. It isn’t intimidating. Only one cop car is parked out front. It’s a small town operation, almost pathetic in its appearance. Yet, it’s now the place where my future is decided.
Janet hasn’t stopped holding my hand. She hasn’t urged me inside. She is staring out at it like me.
“What do you think is going to happen?” I ask without turning to look at her.
“I think the truth will be known.” she turns to look at me. “Jesus has you, Matty. Just tell them the truth.” she uses her free hand to turn my head toward her.