Swedenborg 22

What was Jack thinking?

The words bounced around in Frank’s mind – along with some other choice words – as he hurried up a sloping street. The rain had become a downpour. It had soaked through to his skin. He was cold.

Why did Jack take off and leave him?

He had reconsidered the idea of walking to the campus to get his car when the rain had picked up. But it meant walking through some neighborhoods he did not feel comfortable walking through alone at this time of night. Not in this city.

He suddenly stopped and turned. He sense he was being followed. But no one was there. No one he could see, anyway.

He shuddered. Maybe she’d sent a familiar. Or a demon.

            That's crazy, he thought. Who believes in demons?

Then he thought of what he'd seen. What he'd felt. The fear. Maybe that whatever it was had come back and now he was alone.

Idiot. 

He then thought about her implied offer. He could have stayed with her. She was willing.

He could have been in bed with her now, savoring her body.

Don’t think about it. He knew it would have been a mistake. 

Something had scared him off. An unease. He’d long ago learned that he should heed such feelings. When he didn’t, he always ended up worse off. He had a feeling if he had stayed with her he would have been trapped.

The feeling of someone following him came again. He glanced behind him, again, but did not stop.

There’s more than one.

The thought just popped into his head.

More than one what? He did not know, but he just knew there were more than one.

He thought of a lure wriggling through the water with fish trailing it. Each one wanting to attack it.

Did they want to attack him?

They?

But he also had the feeling that there was something keeping them back. Like a bubble.

He reached the end of the street, a dead end with woods and a slope before him. He knew there was a path up the slope and through the woods, but in the dark, in the pouring rain, it was hard to see and it took a minute to find the path.

He started up. It was even darker than on the street. Water was pouring down the path, making the footing slippery. He almost fell a couple of times. The loudness of the rain seemed amplified in the closed space of the woods. Branches tugged at his clothes. He slipped  and grabbed a small tree. It nearly bent over.

He shuddered. Cold and …

He looked back the way he had come. He was certain he saw eyes. Then they were gone.

He turned back to the path and hurried, stumbling, slipping as he went, almost falling several times but managing to keep his feet.

Suddenly he was out of the woods into a field. He knew Jack’s street was just ahead. He hurried through the tall grass and toward the street. He could see only a few feet ahead, but in the distance a single street light beckoned.

They were getting closer. He could feel it. As if the bubble was collapsing.

He stopped, turned, and yelled, “Leave me alone.”

Even as he yelled, he felt foolish. There’s no one there.

Nothing can hurt you if you don’t let it. His father had told him that once. Why did he think of that?

He laughed.

“Hey, nothing. Go away. You can’t hurt me if I don’t let you.”

He turned back toward the road and walked cautiously, but deliberately. He was no longer afraid.

He exited the field, and started walking along the road toward what he knew was the final curve before the house. He would be there in a couple of minutes. The light from the street light glistened in the puddles.


For the first time, he felt he was alone. And it was comforting.

Pax et bonum