And So It Begins

My body ached from working in the yard all day. I had a slight sunburn across the back of my neck. I really wanted a hot bath, but the burned skin would have none of that, so I settled for rubbing the inside of aloe vera leaves across my hot skin.

It was close to eleven. I couldn't sleep. I had popped four ibuprofen to help with the muscle pain, and was trying to find a comfortable way to lay in bed where I could also read my book.

June bugs were hitting the window, the sound of their bodies pelting against the glass sounding a lot like heavy rain or light hail.

Hank would not stop barking. I got up and opened the door to the back porch, and several june bugs bumbled in, trying to get caught in my hair. I flapped my arms around to bat them away. I hate june bugs.

The moon was a big, yellow ball. Smoky clouds hovered around it, every now and then wisping away. It's muted glow gave the backyard a sinister look.

A restlessness filled the air. The coyotes whined and howled at each other, too close to the house.

However, I assumed Hank was barking at the wild pigs. They were bad this year. The summer drought had caused the Post Oaks to produce a ton of acorns. Late fall and winter rains made water and grasses easy to come by, especially up close to the house.

I could hear Hank, but not see him. It sounded like he was beyond the barn. "Hank, get in here!" I yelled.

After a few moments I heard him trotting up to the house, and his form finally emerged from shadow into the back porch light. He looked nervous and his hair was still standing up on his back.

I hated times like these. What should I do? Did his hair standing on end mean I should do something?

My aloneness hit me. Steve would have gone outside and looked. Steve would have taken care of it. But Steve was gone now, it was just me. And my faith. I must always keep my faith.

Hank seemed to know I was distressed. He wagged his tail and licked my hand. "It's OK." He seemed to say.

I closed the door and got back into bed. I remembered how big of a deal it was to put a back door into our bedroom. Now, it just seemed like an open invitation for trouble.

The night wore on. I could hardly sleep. It was like something was out there waiting for me in the darkness. Eventually, I drifted off.

I was dreaming I was in a ballroom. Just me and a tall man dressed in a tuxedo. He had me in his arms and we were waltzing. Just the two of us in this big, empty room filled with mirrors.  

The light was bright and the floor was a light colored-wood.The man stared at me as if I was his possession. His arms were strong and commanding. I felt trapped and knew I had to get away from him.  

Somehow, I ended up in the bathroom. I thought I was alone at first. The room was white, with a long white counter and four white sinks. The walls glittered like gold. I knew I should be afraid, but I felt more lost and confused. 

Suddenly, my sister was there, all color and concern. Behind her stood another woman dressed in white. Rihanna grabbed my arms and said, "Put up a wall between you and him. Don't let him touch you." 

I was back in the ballroom and the man was waiting for me. He looked angry. He reached for me. At that moment, a clear wall appeared in front of me. He started banging on it. The wall bowed toward me, like it was a flimsy plastic. I could hear him screaming to let him in, and see the animal rage in his face. But I held on.

I gasped and woke up. The room was dark. I remembered this dream. It was one I had dreamed twenty years ago in my college apartment. I had awakened and saw a smoky black figure in my doorway. For years after that I couldn't sleep without a light on.

Hank snuffled my hand from the edge of the bed and whined. I looked over at the door. There wasn't anything there.

I got up and walked into the livingroom, looking upstairs at the doorway to my daughter's room. A low growl came from behind me. Hank saw it, too. A smoky, dark figure hanging there by my daughter's empty room.

Adrenalin shot through me. I stepped back and put my hand on Hank's neck. His hackles were raised.

I could feel it looking at me, if "looking" was the right word.

"Get out of here." I said, "You are not welcome." I swallowed, starting to shake.

Hank made to move. I looked down at him, distracted. When I looked back up, the figure was gone.

I refused to be afraid in my own house. Quickly, I turned the lights on and ran upstairs, maybe proving to myself I had the guts. I didn't really know what I could do if it came back.

I switched on the light in Delilah's room. It was empty. Neat and tidy with her bed ready for her next visit home.

I turned off the light and walked back to my room. "I will not be afraid in my own house." I told myself.

However, when I laid back down, I called Hank up there, too. His warm, furry body leaned against mine, and I felt safer knowing he was there.

"Dear Jesus," I prayed, "Please protect my house." A peace filled me and I was able to go back to sleep.