Stop, Who Goes There?

In one violent motion she sat straight up in bed. Her body on full alert, her mind trailing slowly from behind, she felt the presence of another. Tension so taut it reminded her of evil, something horrible must be there. Her eyes slowly scanned the room with apprehension, “Who is there, what do you want?” she screamed.

The plea for knowledge fell silent; no words had crossed her mouth. In the silence of the darkness her head went straight to fear. The shadows are partners of the evil and with a chuckled took full advantage of her state of mind. Again she tried to speak, “Who is there and what do you want?”

The response was only silence; the shadows did not speak. With the evil, awkward feeling still hanging in the room she found the courage to stand. “I’m not afraid of you, I have a gun,” with quivering fear in her voice she shouted.

This time she heard her voice echo throughout the room but the shadows would not answer. They knew their time was near, in mere moments the sun would burn away this evilness. “To long,” she though and wandered to the chair.

Not sure of her surroundings she braced herself with the back of the chair, it moved. It moved just a small bit, but enough for her eyes to look down. There in the darkness she could see a wadded heap, “What is that?” she questioned. Not willing to allow this fear to paralyze her and with caution, she touched the wadded heap.

“Clothes, nothing but clothes,” she said feeling total relief; but the moment of security and relief was short lived. That moment opened up a weakness and only for an instant she let down her guard. That was all they needed and the shadows seized the opportunity, they pounced.

In one weakened moment the shadows revealed their evil, unleashed a wickedness she knew her firearm could not combat. The pain, the sorrow, the remorse all held deep within the shadows of the night. All evil emotions, that over took her with the dawning of the light.

With dawning of the light came the knowledge. The knowledge that all the evil tension, the dark shadows of the night, all resided in that heap of clothing. She had not paid attention the day before, spoke harshly, and said words she did not mean. She had spent the day hearing but not listening and tuned out the pleas for help. Her day full of criticism, she had not been grateful and complained of expecting more.

These are the seeds of evil, of shadows in the night. What she had perceived as an intruder were actually emotions come to life.

If we chose to wear heaps of clothing full of harshly spoken words, hearing but not listening and wear complaining criticism as if in style, then we will be awakened by evil tension and see shadows in the night. It is your conscience that will scare you.

The moral of the story; hang your clothes up.

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