Demons
When dad met mom he was a mess. She was his reason for changing. He reinvented himself into something desirable and went after her full steam. Eventually he convinced her into marriage and they produced three off spring, I’m one of them. Ultimately his old personality resurfaced. He had failed to replace the old habits with new ones that would stick. Apparently his love for mom was not sufficient for permanent alteration. His demons came back and brought numerous acquaintances,(demoms don’t have friends). He resumed gambling, drinking, sexual explorations on the web, spending over his income and even though it wasn’t mentioned I wonder about pediophilia. Mom must have also because she sent him packing one night after he came to my room to give me a nighttime hug after a drinking excursion.
He moved into a privant,quaint cardboard box with other deviants and misplaced humanity near the old cementary. The cementary went back years and hadn’t been used for decades so the living homeless moved in. I would go down there an watch him from a distance. I was afraid of him, he wore barely no clothes and got into tons of scrapes with his fellow rejects. I would spy on him as he cut and beat himself till he bled or got worn out. He was a terrifying sight but he was still my dad and part of me loved him dearly. Mom and I prayed for him everynight. I am beginning to doubt that God is listening, however.
One late afternoon as I was hiding in the bushes a group of tired looking hobos approached the homeless camp. They looked like they had been walking for a while, their feet and clothes were dusty and they needed a good bath but they actually appeared decent. Good upbringing shines through even hard times. They asked a few of the people if it was alright for them to bunk down there for the night. Most of the residences ignored them, and a few grumbled acquiesce. The group pulled out tents and camping gear and set up housekeeping on the periphery. After some time they had a campfire going and food stewing. The aroma spread all the way to me. My salivary glands started watering. Some of the old timers gathered around the new fire. The new comers invited guests to join them. Soon there was laughing and talking and partying, but without alcohol. Oddly there seemed enough food for all who came. I couldn’t see the size of the pot through all the people but I couldn’t imagine it feeding so many. Some of the old timers brought food to add to the menu. No one was sent away. I was tempted to approach but feared my dad who was by himself and between me and the goings on. He had a scowl on his face that was intimitating. He was shaking and sweat was pouring from him, withdrawals? Without warning he ran to the assembly with a sharp knive, cursing profanities. One of the new hobos stood up and palm upward motioned for all to be calm. The old timers were afraid of dad, they had seen him hurt too many so they cowered in a huddle. The brave man walked towards dad slowly and calmly. His hands up to show no aggression or bad will. Dad stopped short right in front of him and fell to his knees crying. I inched foward, amazed. Dad started talking first,”I’m so sorry, I know who you are but these voices in my head are screaming at me to kill you!” “How many voices do you hear?” “Thousands, I can’t distinquish them!” “They are leaving you now!” the stranger proclaimed raising his eyes to heaven and pointing at a flock of crows. Sparks flew at the crows that got agitated and soared upwards. Butting heads and knocking some out they tangled up in each other and fell down into a barbed wire fence getting trapped where they would stay till they died.
All was silent except for the cawing crows. The company around the campfire were all eyes and ears. No one talked. The friends of the newcomer didn’t looked surprised. They could predict the next few momemts of conversation, yeh, they could recite it verbatim if they wanted to, but they just watched and smiled.
Dad stopped crying and hugged the man’s feet and ankles. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, I’m your humble servant. I intend to follow you forever and care for you.” “Nonsense. You have a family that needs you. Go to them now. Caring for them will show your appreciation for what I’ve done.” Who told him about dad and us? None of the oldtimers would know. Dad was after all not very social or outgoing. The newcomer did something else that astonished me. He looked over in my direction at the bushes I was hiding in. “Come get your dad and bring him home!” I slipped out of cover and hesitantly approached. The man’s eyes were soft and gentle. Dad stood up astounded and resuming his role as daddy asked, “What are you doing out at night over here? This is no place for you.” “Nor for you, come home with me.” I extended my hands and brought dad home. It didn’t take any convincing for mom to let him in. Standing at the open door, staring into the dusk she seemed oddly prepared for his return, with a bath drawn and his clothes over the bed. She knew he’d be back tonight! She had been sitting with her bible open when a fantastic premonition hit that urged her to be ready. Dad replaced his demons with good spirits after this event. He volunteered at the homeless shelter and starting teaching sunday school and did so with authority, as one with a personal knowledge of the saviour. His old boss reaccepted him and mom got to stay home and care for us and the next three that appeared. What a wonderful life I have now, far better than Jimmy Stewart’s! (except for the extra babysitting I’m drafted for!)
