It’s so foggy that I can’t recognize the face, but I see it’s a man. This is terrifying; do I have to do this? Please forgive me Father.
I see him more clearly now, I see tears on his cheek. His expression is nothing short of sheer terror. Yes, I recognize him, can it be? He’s Michael my nephew. Oh Father, what have I done?
He’s looking past my eyes, into my soul. Oh that I wish he could look into my heart. But he can’t, just as he couldn’t before it was too late. My mind is empty; no words can form.
He speaks, “You never warned me.”
“I didn’t, I know. I thought you knew….” my tears are blinding, my heart beats like a thousand drums. “Michael you went to church,” I plea, “How could you not know?”
“I would have listened to you.”
Once again, the man dressed in darkness steps into view. His face speaks of death, he moves like a serpent.
“Can you help me? Please! I don’t want to go with him,” Michael cries out.
The man takes Michael by the arm.
“No, no, please wait, no, let me stay with her, I love her….let go of me!” Michael’s cries pierce the thick fog, echoing into eternity.
I stand alone.
On my knees, pounding my fists into the dirt, memories of Michael flood my mind. Christmas mornings, bedtime stories, crayon drawings. “I didn’t tell him! I didn’t tell him! I didn’t tell him!”
“Priscilla, Cilla Cilla, wake up wake up!” Matt exclaims.
I am still filled with horror as my eyes open to the voice of my husband. “I was dreaming? Oh thank you thank you Lord. I was only dreaming.”
“Yeah, sounded like a bad one, you okay?” Matt asks.
“Yes, but I have a lot of work to do today.” Indeed I do.
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