Evil is . . .
The small church sat serenely against the pefect backdrop as dusk set in. Leafless limbs stretched up to scratch the chilly pastel sky. A fresh layer of snow marked his progress.
Cloven hooves hidden in shoes not made for feet like his, he kicked at the plastic baby Jesus hard and sent it flying out of the contrived manger scene that decorated the lawn.
He left the other plastic entities alone. He didn't even bother with knocking them over.
He stopped at the steps to read what he'd already read on the blinking potable sign near the entrance of the parking lot.
Talent show tonight. Come show us the true meaning of Christmas.
He ripped the notice off the post on which it hung. A flame flashed and it burned to a crisp in his hand.
He heard singing and kicked the door open. No harm done but it did get everyone's attention.
The singing stopped and all stared.
He hesitated where he stood, stared at those who stared at him then, ambled toward the front of the church.
Those who'd been singing had alredy gone back to their seats.
At the pulpit, he dug out a piece of paper, uncrinckled it and spoke.
"A poem," he said, glared hard and than began to recite.
"He came upon a midnight clear,
the deceitful one so bold,
to crush, to take, to render his
that which he could not hold;
Peace he would take from all good men,
Heaven would not prevail.
There could not be another way,
But to join him in hell.
With cloven hooves he stalked his prey
his fury to unfurl,
there could not be a Heavenly king
his kingdom was this world;
He walked the sad and lowly plains,
and tortured every soul.
Rejoiced in all the pain he caused,
and would forevermore.
Inflicting woes of sin and strife
The world had suffered long;
The time he'd ruled was not enough,
Two thousand years of wrong;
And so he sought to kill the One
that put his world in peril;
He found an earthly king to help,
He rushed to coddle Herod.
Herod sent three Maji,
this Child, he should meet,
Together they should find Him,
and place Him at his feet.
Look now! His plan was masterful,
He would be dead in hours;
this Child that did threaten,
to diminish all their power!
But lo! the days are hastening on,
the prophet-bards foretold,
No man could ever hope to stop,
the coming age of gold;
When peace shall over all the earth
Its ancient splendors fling,
And the whole world send back the song
Which now the angels sing.
No gift he brought to give the child,
as the Magi did that night,
No myrrh or gold or frankincense,
his was an awful plight.
And yet, without a gift at all,
somehow he still delivered
for evil is as evils does
and now man can live forever."
He looked up in disgust. His lip curled. "Hope ya'll are happy."
He left the way he came in.
Some excerpts from "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" written by Edmund
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