Through a Darkened Pane (page 49)

By what I was taught never to dwell upon lest the desire become rooted in my heart, lead me into temptation, subject my soul to eternal death. Now, however, I look upon death face-to-face and a trigger of pain and stubborn forgetfulness wells up within me. I am choking uncontrollably as my once bleeding heart (I thought the conscious decision to abandon the musing upon things of heartbreak would forever bar their reentry into my vulnerable mind) is rent anew. Whether real or imagined, I am too shaken and confused right now to say for sure, but something in the evil tableau before me has triggered a remembrance of a long-forgotten event, one submerged in the shallows of my subconscious mind.

I have seen once again - in vision? - the young blond couple who were crying over the deceased Raggedy Andy, prone upon the bed in the room at the top of the stairs. The contorted face upon the doll-like figure was that of Andrew James Vincent.

I am Andrew James Vincent.

BabaYaga

AGGHHHHHHHhhhhhh!!!!

( ) !!!

compound complex

Thanks, Dear Baba ...

Guess Syl's earlier encouragement to BTS to free write had inadvertent consequences!

I am always grateful for your support ... these are for you!

Love,

CoCo

snowbird

You rock, CoCo!

You da man!

Sylvia

compound complex

Dear Syl and Baba:

I avoid throwing in the towel vis-a-vis the need-to-write-but-wonder-where-it's-going nadir of discouragement because of your continuous [as opposed to continual] support. Bless you!

CoCo

snowbird

your continuous [as opposed to continual] support

You never forget, do you?

Love you, man!

Sylvia

compound complex

There is no light upon the narrow path I tread
Though Father has promised to show the way.

What I see I see darkly in a vision of the night,
A new but totally natural experience, one free
Of stumbling blocks and hidden, scary deeps.

I am no longer frightened of the night and do
Truly welcome her warm and tender embrace.

compound complex

Freezing rain has begun falling, but I am certain it is localized.

I attempt to gaze skyward and do see the sun shining its usual cheer above and around the cell of dirty weather that has caught me unawares. Shelter from this onslaught of a capriciously unleashed arsenal of pummeling ice is absolutely nonexistent. I cannot move. Feet frozen suddenly to a roadway that only moments ago had radiated a promise of summer's imminent warmth, the legs that adjoin to trunk, to arms, to pounding head, compose a corporeal entity that truly is my body but no longer a live body. Nevertheless, in my death-like state, I am fully aware of a distant sight that forces my undivided attention. Contained within the same surging and intensifying microcosm of turbulent weather is a malignancy of wood and stone upon a deadened hill, a cancerous growth of what would be thought a product of man's design and construction.

It is not of man.

Whatever it is, it has commandeered all my faculties and has begun its darkly spiritual penetration into my inner recesses, private places I once believed hidden to all but God. What is this force that seeps through my once impenetrable barriers of religious devotion and iron will? What laughing evil twists me gracelessly upon a rusted skewer and pulls my insides out, leaving me dead but painfully sentient to a demonic torture that simply would not happen in a nice neighborhood like mine?

Through a Darkened Pane

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