Stumble It!
Excerpt from The Devil Followed Me Home
Wednesday, April 23, 2008 at 05:50PM 3ww prompts: Picture, reflected, stop
The evidence was both behind and on the picture. Short of burning the image, the only other way hate could be so passionately evoked was through the bold, harsh inked lines that blotted out my face. I could still see my eight year old body smiling victoriously through the ink slap. I was clinging to my grandmother, who barely made it into the image. I always new the devil hated me this much, I didn't need to find this confirmation nestled within the pages of her bible. Not the everyday bible, but the one that sat collecting dust by the archaic stereo, dust-rich party favors and chotchkes, as a symbol of faith. There was no way these scribbled ink lines could be erased, no way for this picture to be repaired. They say evil-stepmothers are an unfair(y-tale) stereo-type, but I can say that in my life it's most certainly true.
I heard the screen door swing open, then I saw the devil's form reflected in the window.
She was coming, I had seconds to shield myself. My fingers stealthily curled to return the holy book, I quickly slipped the picture under my shirt. It was my picture, of me...an image I had never seen in the twenty eight years of my life. It was mine. An image marking one of those early trips to the island to see my father. I couldn't escape the image of her rageful script emblazoning the word "die" on back of this memory infused paper. Still, with all the righteousness I could muster, I turned towards her sheepishly as she walked through the French doors and said, "Hello."
"Hey. What are you doing?" Demons ask questions with intent to stop breath.
I quickly began turning knobs and pushing buttons, "I was just wondering if daddy's stereo even works anymore."
"Oh, that old thing. Yeah, it works, sometimes I listen to the island's church station on there, especially around the holidays."
"oh."
"Yeah, but its not like the radio in New York girl, this is heavy stuff. They talk about casting demons out of your head and understanding that there is evil inside you just waiting to take you over."
My fingers dropped their facade of turning dials. She was on to me.
I was at a loss. I need to get away from her. Just then my father walked in. He was crushed and marked with the aged lines of tire treads all over his face. He was exhausted from a long day of wrestling with automobile parts. Yet, he seemed an oblivious martyr in this whole scenario. Last night he seemed to have had a revelation. He confessed he was scared she was poisoning him, and that he had already caught her once trying to put drops of insecticide in his coffee. I asked him why he stayed wither her.
"I didn't want to lose my two sons the way I lost you through a bitter divorce."
You see, my biological mother is the devil's sister. Before I realized it, before I was born, the devil already had the upper hand.
Reader Comments (8)
That is so sad--and powerfully written. The picture adds much
I tried commenting all day and it just wouldn't let me. That was quite the curveball at the end: I hope he gets out before it's too late.
I have looked into the face of the devil as well and there is no beauty there, only lies, no love, only lies. I admire, and am confused by the intricacies of the relationships between these people all at the same time.
yes the photo says so much. at first i thought the devil was the person holding the camera; then the woman in the door; finally seeing him in the window in the back of the photo. the little pastel planter; so misleading.
Powerful writing!
A powerful piece my friend, I can only imagine living such a moment... I am intrigued and saddened by it. What happens after?
oh this is excellent... i notice it says excerpt... whee is the rest of it?? is it available to be read,, and if so please let me know where!!!!!!!
The people ask you: where is the final of the story? ironic, uh! If they only knew, which we know I assure to you that they would not ask, but it's interesting and it puts others to think . I don't know all about this picture, but I guess. And I bet you that this is the last piece where you would think that I would write to you..ironic!..again!
we love u! M & S