“Devils are the evil within us all.”
The birds sung beautiful melodies outside the door of the building. The trees gave the building a pleasing appearance. The entrance hallway shone brightly due to well placed windows. From the reception desk, two hallways branched out. One to the right and one to the left.
Let’s take the one to the right. As we go down the hall, the further we go, the darker it gets. The lights help, but it darkens never-the-less. There are small rooms on both sides of the hall. Some sights, pleasant; some, not so. Until, at the end of the hall, we enter a larger room.
The old man sat in his wheelchair talking to the empty crowd. The room felt damp and cold, but the old man spoke with vinegar and spice, “I can remember my mother telling me to be careful. She walked away with my brothers and sister. We didn’t hug and kiss like many families. The excitement of graduating. I felt free, of being on my own. I started the car and turned on the road heading towards the main highway. Clear sailing laid ahead.”
A tear came down the old man’s cheek and he wiped it away with an act of embarrassment by tilting his face down and pretending to wipe his nose. Raising his head, his eyes scanned from one side of the room to the other making personal comments to the missing audience. The old man was the only one in the packed room.
Continuing, “In the length of time of one blank slide of a movie film, I opened my eyes to a blackish-gray field of darkness. Silence lasted for a few second before I heard someone make a noise. It was so many years ago, but I can remember that sound. I also remember the lightness on my face. I use to wear thick eyeglasses and, at the moment, I knew they were missing. In the opening of a door and the light rushing in, in a haze, I saw the outline of my mother sitting on side of me and I turned my head to see the fuzzy figure of a nurse. I couldn’t hear what the nurse told my mother, but she was gone as soon as she had come. I asked....”
A door opened and a nurse entered the room, “Mister Steve, is everything OK. We are still waiting.”
He nodded his head and she was gone. Returning to his story, “I asked my mom what happened? Where am I? What’s going on?”
“You have been in a car wreck,” she said when flipping the light switch on.
“I thought about asking why I had trouble seeing, but the word ‘glasses’ came to mind. Mom, I said, where am I.”
“You are in a hospital. You have been unconscious since Wednesday night. It is Saturday evening, now.” With a smile, she said, “You have been up and at it a few times as we moved you about. You had some small struggles with us and the nurses.”
“Angela, let the boy rest. He still looks pretty out of it,” my father stated.
“Well, it was funny. He didn’t even know what he was doing.”
With some gestures of his arms, he directed his eyes to his listeners, “My mom had a weird sense of humor. Some of the smallest things made her laugh. Well, I was in the hospital for only a few more days. I discovered I was in a bad accident. I was hit broadside by a semi-trailer truck. Carrying spaghetti sauce or something. The driver was killed. My car was toss about a hundred feet in the air and everyone thought I was dead until someone saw me move. They did some tests on me in the hospital and I did get up and struggle a few times with my dad and the nurses, but my dad was a pretty strong guy so I didn’t do anything too bad. I had a brain concussion and some stitches in my shoulder and forehead. The doctor has to do some fancy work to save one of my ears. I came out pretty well considering.”
The old man hung his head down for a few seconds in thought. “I only came out with some fluid on the left-side of my brain and...with haunting thoughts and torments for most of the rest of my life.” With a short pause, “If not, for my wife and daughter, for the rest of my life.”
Pardoning himself for a second, the old man sipped a little water, “When I got home, I was put into my own room. It had its own door to the outside. They enclosed the garage. It was nice. For the first few days, I mainly laid in bed sleeping and thinking. Was it my fault? Did I kill someone? I tossed back and forth. Being young, I really didn’t know much about life and death, but there was that little something. That little something that felt like a piece of me was missing; that little something that I needed an answer to, or to answer for.”
A smile did come to the old man’s face, “I do remember I loved to swim and I asked the doctor if I could go swimming. He told me I could as long as I didn’t put my head under the water. Well, there was a swimming pool about two houses down. We lived in a rural area and the people that lived there would only visit every now and then. So, I would sneak over sometimes and climb their fence to get into their pool. I had some nice swims. They felt so good.”
Reaching his hands to his face, he wiped the tips of his fingers down his eyes and face pulling the tears with his fingers, “It took months for the fluid in my head to lessen. During this time, I learned my car ran pass a stop sign and onto the highway when the truck hit me. This started the depression, the thoughts, the torments, and the self-struggle. The day the devil came into my life.”
After a small cough, “I did learn later the stop sign was knocked down the week before by a car in another wreck and was never put back up. It was laying in a ditch. But it was too late. The devil entered the open door. Night time became a time of twisting and swirling thoughts; a time of digging deep within my soul to answer what is life; to finding the mean of life? A piece of me seemed missing, unanswered. Night became my time of terror. My biological clock got switched in the hospital. Day became night and night became day. I would spend all night fighting the devil and his armies. It is still can be a problem for me even today. Late night feels so good to me.”
Releasing a sigh of gracious me, “The funny thing is I don’t believe in ‘a’ devil, but he came rushing through the door when it opened. I had two choices, either give in to him or to fight him. When he stood near and reached his arms to grab me, I can proudly say I spat in the eyes of the devil. As his red eyes shot its flames into my soul, my love of life shot back the flames. For the following decades of struggling years, until I met my wife and daughter, I fought the devil. The devil to hurt myself; to kill myself.”
Stopping for a moment to gather his memories, “I remember driving in a work truck for my dad’s company and wanting to open the door and jump out just to see what it was about. Or, looking down stairs and wanting to jump. Pills, blades and guns. Oh, the wonder of how I lived so long. But one day, the devil will win. But the satisfaction of denying him gives me such joy.”
In his head, the old man heard someone say, “Do you believe in the devil now?”
“Yes, there is a devil. A devil in each one of us. The devil is the badness, the evil each one of us possesses. The secret to beating the devil is to look within ourselves individually and fighting him. The devil is only as strong as we are weak. Others can help, but the fight with the devil is one’s own personal fight. My wife and daughter will never know how they helped me knockout the devil, but it is I that has to hit him. Oh, occasionally he tries to get up, but I think of my wife and daughter and he falls again. I....”
“Mister Steve, your family is here.”
The old man nodded his head as before. It has been months since he could speak. The nurse pushed the wheelchair to the door and the old man shook hands with all the people in the room. With one last turn of his head, “I will see you all again next week. Spit in the eyes of the devil.” Down the hallway, the nurse wheeled him to the receptionist desk. The light grew brighter with each step she took, yet, the old man noticed not. With one last turn of the head back to the room, he saw the Devil wipe the wetness from his eyes.
After leaving the old man and his family, the nurse walked down the hallway to the left of the front desk. This hall was as long as the other hallway, so it took awhile before the nurse heard some strange sounds from the large meeting room at the end. As she got closer, she saw curses fly out of the room. She hurried no quicker. She only shook her head.
“You, #*&@#$%! That was a touchdown. You, #^@#$!” a grey haired fellow yelled at the TV.
“Hey, Joe! Where’s my twenty?” another elderly fellow yelled in return from across the room.
“There is another quarter. And, my name isn’t Joe. How many times do I have to tell you, you old #@&^$#! My name is Gary.”
Chuckles could be heard throughout the smoke filled air.
“You know you are not suppose to be smoking in here,” the nurse calmly stated when entering the room. She swept her hands back and forth across her face sweeping away the smoke.
“Not, me! Not, me!” echoed from all directions. Several old men rushed to put out and hide their cigarettes. Some butts went into coffee cups. Some got squashed under heels. Several packs got rolled up in sleeves.
“Well, I am going to have to report this to Ms. Jones,” the nurse said.
“Oh, go ahead. Who gives a damn. I am losing twenty bucks,” Gary replied, turning his head to the TV. “Grab that #@$%&@#!”
The nurse simply sighed, “Oh, Joe.”
“Damn it! My name ain’t Joe. You stupid #@$%#@! Let me alone.”
The eyes of the nurse scanned the room and saw no issues needing to be dealt with, so off she went.
Gary dropped back into his recliner and kept watching the game. Things settled down in the room.
In the morning sun, bombs and planes sounded overhead. The boats approached the beaches with bullets flying throughout the air. Everyone had their heads down. A young soldier yelled a whisper into Gary’s ears, “I think I am going to be sick.” Without time to get his helmet, the young soldier’s meal left his stomach and shot out his lips.
“You little, #$@%*#! Watch it.” Gary shouted, as he got spatted on his boots.
The young soldier idolized Gary. For what reason, no one knew.
“I’m sorry,” the young boy thought. The words never sounded due to the blast and splash of the impact of a near miss.
The ramp in front of the boat dropped into several feet of water. It dropped too soon. In the heat of battle, wrong actions are common place and results in the death of many. Everyone in the boat rushed into the water. Soon they discovered the true weight of their backpacks when wet. Several young soldiers went under the water to escape the bullets thinking to get back up when cleared, or who simply lost their footing, never again, saw the light. Those who kept their heads too high, lost them. Those who kept their heads high, but close to the waterline, did better. They pushed ahead to the sandy shoreline.
Gary laid in the water near the beach. Nose and mouth barely breathing above the water.
“Here, let me help you,” the young soldier yelled as he helped Gary to his feet. The boy saved the old man’s life.
With the aid, Gary and the young boy made it several feet onto the shore. They dropped behind the bodies of several other soldiers who had already been killed. “Thank you,” never crossed Gary’s mind.
Gary scurried away from the young soldier to find better cover. He found a large crater in which to lay. As he rested, he could only think, “God, let this be over.” He had no thoughts of getting into the fight. All the goals of his mission vanished in his mind.
In the lull of battle, Gary thought, “God, it is over,” as he looked up into the skies. A dark shadow appeared with a rifle in his hands. A bayonet flashing in the sun. Closing his eyes, Gary heard the crack of a rifle, then felt a heavy blow of a body falling on him. The enemy soldier fell on him. An amazed Gary thought, “What the ...?”
Another dark shadow appeared, the young soldier. The boy saved the old man’s life, again. “Thank you,” never crossed Gary’s mind. He rushed off to find more cover.
Soon, Gary found himself behind a wall. What kind of wall. Gary cared not. It was calm. No bullets. Only rolling mounds which hid the wall and what was behind it from the world.
“Oh, heaven,” Gary thought. He felt so alone, so out of it. “Boy, am I hungry.” Gary searched around his body for something to eat. He knew he had a candy bar somewhere.
As he unwrapped the wet paper, Gary heard a sound over the wall. He looked over it and saw the young soldier who saved his life twice laying in blood reaching up to him, “Help.” Gary could have easily reached over the wall and pulled him to safety. He did not.
“I can’t help you, Joe,” Gary returned as an answer. Two bullets hit the young soldier. As the young boy laid dying, Gary saw his serene eyes crying out to him, “I forgive you.”
But in death, Gary looked into the stillness of the young boy’s eyes again and saw a reflection. A reflection of the devil. A reflection of himself.
“Joe, where is my twenty-dollars?” the old man said as he woke Gary from his sleep. “Your team lost.”
“#$&%^@*#&, I ain’t Joe.”
“Well, I hope you are in the eye of the Devil. You #%@^&*! Where’s my twenty,” the old man repeated.
The birds sung beautiful melodies outside the door of the building. The trees gave the building a pleasing appearance. The entrance hallway shone brightly due to well placed windows. From the reception desk, two hallways branched out. One to the right and one to the left.
Let’s take the one to the right. As we go down the hall, the further we go, the darker it gets. The lights help, but it darkens never-the-less. There are small rooms on both sides of the hall. Some sights, pleasant; some, not so. Until, at the end of the hall, we enter a larger room.
The old man sat in his wheelchair talking to the empty crowd. The room felt damp and cold, but the old man spoke with vinegar and spice, “I can remember my mother telling me to be careful. She walked away with my brothers and sister. We didn’t hug and kiss like many families. The excitement of graduating. I felt free, of being on my own. I started the car and turned on the road heading towards the main highway. Clear sailing laid ahead.”
A tear came down the old man’s cheek and he wiped it away with an act of embarrassment by tilting his face down and pretending to wipe his nose. Raising his head, his eyes scanned from one side of the room to the other making personal comments to the missing audience. The old man was the only one in the packed room.
Continuing, “In the length of time of one blank slide of a movie film, I opened my eyes to a blackish-gray field of darkness. Silence lasted for a few second before I heard someone make a noise. It was so many years ago, but I can remember that sound. I also remember the lightness on my face. I use to wear thick eyeglasses and, at the moment, I knew they were missing. In the opening of a door and the light rushing in, in a haze, I saw the outline of my mother sitting on side of me and I turned my head to see the fuzzy figure of a nurse. I couldn’t hear what the nurse told my mother, but she was gone as soon as she had come. I asked....”
A door opened and a nurse entered the room, “Mister Steve, is everything OK. We are still waiting.”
He nodded his head and she was gone. Returning to his story, “I asked my mom what happened? Where am I? What’s going on?”
“You have been in a car wreck,” she said when flipping the light switch on.
“I thought about asking why I had trouble seeing, but the word ‘glasses’ came to mind. Mom, I said, where am I.”
“You are in a hospital. You have been unconscious since Wednesday night. It is Saturday evening, now.” With a smile, she said, “You have been up and at it a few times as we moved you about. You had some small struggles with us and the nurses.”
“Angela, let the boy rest. He still looks pretty out of it,” my father stated.
“Well, it was funny. He didn’t even know what he was doing.”
With some gestures of his arms, he directed his eyes to his listeners, “My mom had a weird sense of humor. Some of the smallest things made her laugh. Well, I was in the hospital for only a few more days. I discovered I was in a bad accident. I was hit broadside by a semi-trailer truck. Carrying spaghetti sauce or something. The driver was killed. My car was toss about a hundred feet in the air and everyone thought I was dead until someone saw me move. They did some tests on me in the hospital and I did get up and struggle a few times with my dad and the nurses, but my dad was a pretty strong guy so I didn’t do anything too bad. I had a brain concussion and some stitches in my shoulder and forehead. The doctor has to do some fancy work to save one of my ears. I came out pretty well considering.”
The old man hung his head down for a few seconds in thought. “I only came out with some fluid on the left-side of my brain and...with haunting thoughts and torments for most of the rest of my life.” With a short pause, “If not, for my wife and daughter, for the rest of my life.”
Pardoning himself for a second, the old man sipped a little water, “When I got home, I was put into my own room. It had its own door to the outside. They enclosed the garage. It was nice. For the first few days, I mainly laid in bed sleeping and thinking. Was it my fault? Did I kill someone? I tossed back and forth. Being young, I really didn’t know much about life and death, but there was that little something. That little something that felt like a piece of me was missing; that little something that I needed an answer to, or to answer for.”
A smile did come to the old man’s face, “I do remember I loved to swim and I asked the doctor if I could go swimming. He told me I could as long as I didn’t put my head under the water. Well, there was a swimming pool about two houses down. We lived in a rural area and the people that lived there would only visit every now and then. So, I would sneak over sometimes and climb their fence to get into their pool. I had some nice swims. They felt so good.”
Reaching his hands to his face, he wiped the tips of his fingers down his eyes and face pulling the tears with his fingers, “It took months for the fluid in my head to lessen. During this time, I learned my car ran pass a stop sign and onto the highway when the truck hit me. This started the depression, the thoughts, the torments, and the self-struggle. The day the devil came into my life.”
After a small cough, “I did learn later the stop sign was knocked down the week before by a car in another wreck and was never put back up. It was laying in a ditch. But it was too late. The devil entered the open door. Night time became a time of twisting and swirling thoughts; a time of digging deep within my soul to answer what is life; to finding the mean of life? A piece of me seemed missing, unanswered. Night became my time of terror. My biological clock got switched in the hospital. Day became night and night became day. I would spend all night fighting the devil and his armies. It is still can be a problem for me even today. Late night feels so good to me.”
Releasing a sigh of gracious me, “The funny thing is I don’t believe in ‘a’ devil, but he came rushing through the door when it opened. I had two choices, either give in to him or to fight him. When he stood near and reached his arms to grab me, I can proudly say I spat in the eyes of the devil. As his red eyes shot its flames into my soul, my love of life shot back the flames. For the following decades of struggling years, until I met my wife and daughter, I fought the devil. The devil to hurt myself; to kill myself.”
Stopping for a moment to gather his memories, “I remember driving in a work truck for my dad’s company and wanting to open the door and jump out just to see what it was about. Or, looking down stairs and wanting to jump. Pills, blades and guns. Oh, the wonder of how I lived so long. But one day, the devil will win. But the satisfaction of denying him gives me such joy.”
In his head, the old man heard someone say, “Do you believe in the devil now?”
“Yes, there is a devil. A devil in each one of us. The devil is the badness, the evil each one of us possesses. The secret to beating the devil is to look within ourselves individually and fighting him. The devil is only as strong as we are weak. Others can help, but the fight with the devil is one’s own personal fight. My wife and daughter will never know how they helped me knockout the devil, but it is I that has to hit him. Oh, occasionally he tries to get up, but I think of my wife and daughter and he falls again. I....”
“Mister Steve, your family is here.”
The old man nodded his head as before. It has been months since he could speak. The nurse pushed the wheelchair to the door and the old man shook hands with all the people in the room. With one last turn of his head, “I will see you all again next week. Spit in the eyes of the devil.” Down the hallway, the nurse wheeled him to the receptionist desk. The light grew brighter with each step she took, yet, the old man noticed not. With one last turn of the head back to the room, he saw the Devil wipe the wetness from his eyes.
After leaving the old man and his family, the nurse walked down the hallway to the left of the front desk. This hall was as long as the other hallway, so it took awhile before the nurse heard some strange sounds from the large meeting room at the end. As she got closer, she saw curses fly out of the room. She hurried no quicker. She only shook her head.
“You, #*&@#$%! That was a touchdown. You, #^@#$!” a grey haired fellow yelled at the TV.
“Hey, Joe! Where’s my twenty?” another elderly fellow yelled in return from across the room.
“There is another quarter. And, my name isn’t Joe. How many times do I have to tell you, you old #@&^$#! My name is Gary.”
Chuckles could be heard throughout the smoke filled air.
“You know you are not suppose to be smoking in here,” the nurse calmly stated when entering the room. She swept her hands back and forth across her face sweeping away the smoke.
“Not, me! Not, me!” echoed from all directions. Several old men rushed to put out and hide their cigarettes. Some butts went into coffee cups. Some got squashed under heels. Several packs got rolled up in sleeves.
“Well, I am going to have to report this to Ms. Jones,” the nurse said.
“Oh, go ahead. Who gives a damn. I am losing twenty bucks,” Gary replied, turning his head to the TV. “Grab that #@$%&@#!”
The nurse simply sighed, “Oh, Joe.”
“Damn it! My name ain’t Joe. You stupid #@$%#@! Let me alone.”
The eyes of the nurse scanned the room and saw no issues needing to be dealt with, so off she went.
Gary dropped back into his recliner and kept watching the game. Things settled down in the room.
In the morning sun, bombs and planes sounded overhead. The boats approached the beaches with bullets flying throughout the air. Everyone had their heads down. A young soldier yelled a whisper into Gary’s ears, “I think I am going to be sick.” Without time to get his helmet, the young soldier’s meal left his stomach and shot out his lips.
“You little, #$@%*#! Watch it.” Gary shouted, as he got spatted on his boots.
The young soldier idolized Gary. For what reason, no one knew.
“I’m sorry,” the young boy thought. The words never sounded due to the blast and splash of the impact of a near miss.
The ramp in front of the boat dropped into several feet of water. It dropped too soon. In the heat of battle, wrong actions are common place and results in the death of many. Everyone in the boat rushed into the water. Soon they discovered the true weight of their backpacks when wet. Several young soldiers went under the water to escape the bullets thinking to get back up when cleared, or who simply lost their footing, never again, saw the light. Those who kept their heads too high, lost them. Those who kept their heads high, but close to the waterline, did better. They pushed ahead to the sandy shoreline.
Gary laid in the water near the beach. Nose and mouth barely breathing above the water.
“Here, let me help you,” the young soldier yelled as he helped Gary to his feet. The boy saved the old man’s life.
With the aid, Gary and the young boy made it several feet onto the shore. They dropped behind the bodies of several other soldiers who had already been killed. “Thank you,” never crossed Gary’s mind.
Gary scurried away from the young soldier to find better cover. He found a large crater in which to lay. As he rested, he could only think, “God, let this be over.” He had no thoughts of getting into the fight. All the goals of his mission vanished in his mind.
In the lull of battle, Gary thought, “God, it is over,” as he looked up into the skies. A dark shadow appeared with a rifle in his hands. A bayonet flashing in the sun. Closing his eyes, Gary heard the crack of a rifle, then felt a heavy blow of a body falling on him. The enemy soldier fell on him. An amazed Gary thought, “What the ...?”
Another dark shadow appeared, the young soldier. The boy saved the old man’s life, again. “Thank you,” never crossed Gary’s mind. He rushed off to find more cover.
Soon, Gary found himself behind a wall. What kind of wall. Gary cared not. It was calm. No bullets. Only rolling mounds which hid the wall and what was behind it from the world.
“Oh, heaven,” Gary thought. He felt so alone, so out of it. “Boy, am I hungry.” Gary searched around his body for something to eat. He knew he had a candy bar somewhere.
As he unwrapped the wet paper, Gary heard a sound over the wall. He looked over it and saw the young soldier who saved his life twice laying in blood reaching up to him, “Help.” Gary could have easily reached over the wall and pulled him to safety. He did not.
“I can’t help you, Joe,” Gary returned as an answer. Two bullets hit the young soldier. As the young boy laid dying, Gary saw his serene eyes crying out to him, “I forgive you.”
But in death, Gary looked into the stillness of the young boy’s eyes again and saw a reflection. A reflection of the devil. A reflection of himself.
“Joe, where is my twenty-dollars?” the old man said as he woke Gary from his sleep. “Your team lost.”
“#$&%^@*#&, I ain’t Joe.”
“Well, I hope you are in the eye of the Devil. You #%@^&*! Where’s my twenty,” the old man repeated.
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