The news around town was the gruesome murders in Whitestone. Five mangled bodies had been discovered in the river, their veins drained of all blood. The word was the police had no suspects. The locals avoided the docks at night and whispered of shadows and mist.
The pastor of the small church on the corner had done his best to quiet the rumors. This fallen world had all the evil humanity could create, he said at his pulpit one Sunday service. No bogeyman need be imagined.
Gregory, a parishioner of said church, tended to disagree. There was something dark about the blocks near the old shipyard. The shadows stirred in an eerie dance as the sun began to set. A foul stench of rotting wood and half decayed fish permeated the alleyways. A sad reminder of the days before the fleets had moved on to more robust catches up north.
His father had worked on those ships, sailing under a gruff but fair captain. The life was hard, his da had said but honest. Anywhere a man does the work God gave him and does it well, there is holy ground. Sometimes, Gregory wondered if his old man should have been a pastor. The wisdom in many of the elderly fisherman’s sayings lingered in his son’s mind even all these years later.
A policeman’s whistle jerked him back to the present. The shrill blast rented the air, summoning the officer’s fellows. Gregory shook his head. Another body, he imagined. The direction was right and the last murder had been a week ago.
Gregory’s family had moved on from the fishing life. His Father had noted the declining catches and made sure to apprentice his elder brother to the silversmith. The fee had been steep but there had been a high demand for the few fish being eked out. Shawn had just finished his mastery a copy of years back.
It was a favor for Shawn that had brought him to this town. Gregory had been apprenticed too, but not to a smith. His mother had noticed a bookish leaning in him early. Accounting came as natural to him as breathing and thus a clerk he had become. His brother and he had remained close in spite of the distances involved between their two jobs. So when Shawn had noticed something odd about his income, Gregory offered to take a trip back to Whitestone and go over the bills.
It had turned out that a few of Shawn’s suppliers had been cheating him. His brother had been furious, severing ties with the two companies. The owner of the second promised litigation, but Gregory knew his numbers would stand up in court.
His own work would be piling up. Gregory had taken a week’s leave to deal with his brother’s issue. It was now day five and his ship sailed in the morning. A short voyage to the north but still time consuming.
An urge to see the decks filled him. Gregory shook his head. By nature he was not a gawker nor one known for macabre curiosity. Still there was a sense that he needed to be there. A tug on the heart. Nostalgia for his father’s stories perhaps.
The sun was beginning to see with glorious abandon. The sky shimmered with rays of gold streaking across a palette of orange and purple. Gregory stopped to marvel at the glory of his Creator’s artistry.
“Sir, you’d best be getting on your way.” A chimneysweep, his hat covered in coal dust, called out as he descended a ladder. “This isn’t a place to be about after dark.”
Gregory looked around. His feet had carried him to the docks without conscious thought. His nose wrinkled as a stiff wind swept through the street. He started to move towards Shawn’s house and halted. A small voice in his head said “Wait.” Startled, he asked the Holy Spirit why. But all the clerk heard back was “Wait.”
A young woman, dressed too well to be comfortable in her present surroundings, walked towards the decrepit piers. Her walk was off kilter, her head bobbing from side to side. It was as if she was being pulled on a leash towards an unwanted destination.
A mental prompt later, Gregory lurched forward to follow the lady. He noted that her finery was disheveled. A silk nightgown peeked out beneath the fur coat and her dainty feet were in slippers, ill suited to the rough cobblestones and broken glass. A chance look drew him to her eyes. Framed by sculpted blonde eyebrows, they were glistening emeralds which shone into the night.
Gregory followed behind her, making no attempt to hide his presence. The shadows were growing heavier as the curving street narrowed. The old moorings creaked as the waves brushed against them. The woman’s destination appeared to be the old customs building. A small wordless cry, forlorn and desperate, escaped her lips. He stepped forward and took her by the shoulder.
The woman’s body was racked by shivers. Her head swiveled towards him and he could see desperate hope light in her moisture filled eyes.
“Kind sir, aid me, please,” she plucked at her sleeves in a rhythmic fashion. “I know not what brought me here but it tugs me still. It hurts not to move yet I fear what is ahead.”
“As well you should.” A dull hollow voice echoed from the mist shrouding the far piers.
The smell of rot intensified and Gregory gagged. The young lady had fallen to her knees, sobbing in terror and fear. The sheer presence of evil buffeted the clerk. The desire to run was almost overwhelming.
A single short passage of Scripture flashed across his mind. Fear not. Gregory steadied his breathing and stationed himself in front of the distraught woman. Peace radiated through his entire body and calm permeated the once panicked thoughts.
Eerie laughter burst from everywhere. It leapt octaves to a hysterical feminine shriek then descended to the deepest of baritones. A whimper came from the woman.
The laughter cut off with an abrupt cough. The presence shifted in the darkness and then glided forward. Gregory spotted a vague man like form covered by rags. The glowing red eyes fixed on him with malignant rage.
“You have no place here.” The dull dead voice’s words resonated through the mist. “Leave the woman and you may go in peace.”
“What would a horror like you know of peace?” Gregory shouted.
“Fool.” The word thrummed through the menacing fog. “I have eaten well here and no man has hindered me. You shall not be the first.”
Gregory remembered the articles he had read. Two of the men killed had been armed with revolvers. What could he do with just a pocketknife and his fists?
The shadowy menace sensed his misgivings and crept forward.
“I am more powerful than you can imagine. Your death will serve no one here. Leave now.”
Gregory actually felt his foot begin to turn when the Lord thundered into his mind.
David had a mere slingshot and felled a giant. Has My Hand weakened? Whose fight is this really? I have given you weapons this foul creature cannot fathom. I have called you to this place and I will not desert you. Now stand, my beloved child!
The clerk’s eyes opened and he set his feet.
“No, creature. I will not leave.”
“This is not holy ground, boy. Your Faith will not serve you here.”
The creature screamed a hideous epithet and charged.
Gregory didn’t move, didn’t flinch. The claws reached for his throat, seeking to squeeze the life out.
“In the name of Jesus, get thee behind me, abomination,” Gregory said.
Lightning rent the mist and scattered the shadows. The creature staggered back as if from a mighty blow.
“Any place someone calls on the name of Jesus is holy ground, monster. This is indeed my Father’s world.”
The woman stood up beside him, her shakes were gone and she clasped his right hand.
“Your lies have been exposed to the light of God’s truth.” The young lady’s voice was soft but steady. “I am a new creation in Jesus and you have no power over me.”
“You are weak!” the creature hissed out. “I will have you.”
“No, you won’t.” her voice sharpened. “I was so blinded by my circumstances and fears before. But God promised me that no weapon formed against me shall prosper. I am covered by the blood of Jesus and you have no place here. Go back to your master. Be gone in Jesus’ name and because of His shed blood.”
The monster wailed in pain. Flames erupted from the ground at his feet and engulfed the creature in holy fire. The blaze whirled to the rooftops, incinerating any remains of the menace.
The odor of the docks diminished and a cool breeze freshened the air. Gregory inhaled with gratitude.
“Thank you, stranger,” the young woman said. “I needed to remember who I was. I felt so weak and powerless. Its whispers in my head had me convinced I was without hope.”
The Holy Spirit whispered in Gregory’s mind. This is why you were here. She needed to remember who she was in Me. And where one of my disciples helps another to stand, there too is holy ground.James Gawne Jr
Copyright 2010
