Handwritten Letters to the Devil. Zin

to the chair. Making sure he cuffed his feet, also his arms behind the chair back, and then stood next to him.

      Officer Drake then spoke, “Alright Doc we are right outside the door if you need us. Don’t hesitate for a moment to call.”

      I could feel my shocked expression and tried to compose myself. “Of course officer, thank you for your time.” The officers left and we were alone. The blank expression on Mr. Colace’s face was one of repetition. He had been in a chair like this many times before and was going through the motions. I attempted conversation.

      “Do you mind if I call you James or do you prefer a different name?”

      His eyes never left mine as a bright smile appeared across his face.

      “I prefer Willy, but what ever makes you comfortable to call me, you may.”

      I smiled, “Very well Willy, would you like coffee or tea? Or water perhaps?”

      He answered very politely, “Tea would be great. I’ve been craving it for days, thank you.”

      I got him tea and coffee for me, he tasted it and nodded with approval. “Thank you doctor, it is excellent.”

      We sat in silence as we both took sips from our beverages. We made eye contact and smiled, he was the first to speak.

      “So, Doctor, what made you seek a profession aiding mentally injured individuals, I mean no disrespect by this question, I actually am very grateful that you have sought this profession. I hope to be able to one day be rehabilitated into society completely cured of my disorders,” he chuckled a little, “or at least have them managed.”

      I smiled and dipped my head in sort of a half nod. “Well, forgetting the fact that I enjoy helping people and seeing them get better. I sometimes can find new disorders and issues in a troubled mind. I can use my research to help cure hundreds of other people suffering from the same new symptoms around the world. The more help I can do, I will always try to do.”

      His expression changed to one of endearing, as if I could see respect for me in his eyes.

      “Doctor I believe that is the best answer I have ever received from a shrink.” He said. We both shared a laugh. He seemed to ease up even more, he began massaging his hands in his cuffs. I have noticed this kind of behavior with several other of my patients. When they begin to accept someone into their lives they tend to notice physical pain more and subtly treat it as if to feel more comfortable with their current environment. . . it’s a good thing.

      I couldn’t help noticing that he was showing no signs of violence or depression or any kind of hostility for that matter. The man I was sitting across from seemed to want to be a better person. Perhaps if I played my cards right I could honestly help him. I decided to switch to the defensive to see a reaction. “So, what are you hoping to accomplish by meeting with me, what goals should we make together to further you on the road to rehabilitation?”

      He laughed a charming laugh, nodded his head several times, “Goals . . .” he said. “Goals are very important in life.” He kept nodding over and over looking at my desk. After several moments of silence, he spoke the words that would make me realize the severity of his condition.

      “We have all the time in the world for goals, Gerald, but right now we should worry about the safety of your children and your ex-wife. I fear, the most ghostly of fears, a demented psychopathic serial murder is soon on his way to their home in the suburbs driving your vehicle.”

      Fear washed over me as he finished speaking, I could feel my mouth hanging at his last word. My voice came in a whisper.

      “Why would you think that?”

      His eyes never left mine as he raised his unbound hands and smiled a smile I could never forget.

       With God’s Grace

      Father Thompson came forward from the darkness to the third pew where he always sat. He prayed there every Sunday for the last three months or so. The face we have all accepted as one of ours. A handsome man full of life and a love for all that is created. Always showing trust in everyone who would walk through our church doors. His smile is so warming to our hearts. That man must have been an angel in his past lives. Father Thompson sat next to him in the pew and put a hand on his shoulder.

      “It is always good to see you my son. How has your last week been?”

      The bright and lively smile leapt to his face at the sight of the father.

      “Oh Father I have had the loveliest week of my life, I have fallen in love with someone. This person, Father, is lovelier that a thousand roses freshly bloomed on a spring day in heaven.”

      The Father laughed with delight.

      “Oh that is wonderful news! Love is God’s sunshine beaming down to mankind to remind them of his glory. Tell me my son, what is your love’s name?”

      He beamed with delight, “Athena, Athena my own human love.”

      The Father bowed slightly, “That is a lovely name, most fitting for a lovely woman.”

      The young man looked down at the floor still smiling. “Yes, it is most fitting for a most lovely person in the world.” Several moments went by when he finally came back down to our earth. “Well father, I would like to have my weekly confession, do you have time for me today?”

      Father Thompson broke into smiling laughter. “Of course my son, for you I will always have time. They both headed towards the confession booth.

      ---------------------------------------------------------------

      It was a little less than half an hour when Sister Brooke called the police. Officer Tain was first on the scene. Sister Brooke was sobbing and being consoled by a number of other Sisters, also crying. A crowd had gathered in the congregation hall around the confession booth. Officer Tain pushed his way through the crowd. “Alright everyone, BPD, everyone BACK UP!” The crowd moved enough for him to get to the booth and look at the scene. The sight of the deceased instantly induced vomit.

      In the detectives report, Father Thompson’s body was found in the confession booth with out pants, on all fours. Eyes gauged bluntly, most likely with thumbs, the other side of the confession booth that was separated by a flimsy wooden barrier was broken. The anus of the father was soaked with blood, and semen was found in the cavity, obvious rape. The killer had scratched these words in the back of the victim, possibly with fingernails: “Athena, why defy me.”

       Eyes of the Ghost

       “It’s only fitting that I am the one who keeps you safe. No one is what I am, no one is how I am. I can remember how you wished for help, begged for protection. Seeing your tears was more than I could ever bear. No one will harm you. No one will judge you, say you can’t do anything. You will fly, soar like airplanes, like angels, like the most powerful God. With me here for you, living for you, being your tank.

       Here comes the rain, but you won’t feel it. I will take the brunt of it. You will always be warm, dry, safe. In this blackness I stand in now, you will see light, because I can see in the dark. I can bask in blackness and see our future. Seeing you in my box, in my sight, in my hand. You love me, I can hear you beg for me through this glass. You know you need me, I’ll show you that you’re right. I could look at you for eight life times, never moving. I would lay in your aurora and starve if it made you happy.

       My hoody is soaked now but I’m happy you are dreaming of me. Hearing your moan, I know it’s for me. You are starting to rustle now. When I see your body move like that you know what it does to me.