Thursday, July 12, 2007
Supertions - You better be home before sundown..
It happened a few years back. The painful memories are still embedded deep in my mind. The feelings of guilt and shame still hurt painfully, like salt added on an open wound.
“You better be home before sunset. Better be careful and don’t stay out late this month,” I advised my thirteen year-old son on that fateful day of the seventh month.
“Don’t be such a nag,” my stubborn son replied. That had always been his response to my advice.
“ I am advising you for your own good! It’s better to be safe than sorry!” I yelled as my son slammed the front door behind him. I let out a heavy sigh and went back to peeling my bean sprouts. As usual, my son never took my words of caution seriously. He would just brush me off and hurry out to avoid me. However, I was always worried about him, an active teen, staying out late with his friends. Who knows whether he would run into any trouble. He was my only child after all and all I just wanted him to be was to be safe. I wanted him to take all the necessary precautions and not get into trouble. It was already past midnight when he came home that night. His face resembled that of a ghost. Eyebags were prominent and his eyes were bloodshot. Being the over protective mother that I am, I immediately put him into bed. Thoughts like 'Stupid boy, if only he would listen to me. What should I do now that he's gotten possessed?' and 'Would I have enough money for the priest?' bounced about my head.
The next day, I spent the whole morning praying to the gods at the temple and looking for a priest to help save my son which I believed to have been possessed.
'Priest! Priest! Please save my son! He is being possessed by and evil spirit!' I pleaded as pinpricks stung the back of my eyes.
'Not to worry! When there's a will, there's a way!' the priest cried.
The days following that were hell. I would check on my son every so often but whenever I did so, he was on his bed sleeping. The trays of food I left by his bedside were only picked at and barely any was eaten. The anxiety I felt knew no bounds as I axiously waited for the priest to come. My actions of pacing the floor left a hole in the carpet.
The following day, the priest arrived. I led him to my son's room. As I opened the door, living hell greeted my eyes.
My son lay on the floor twitching as foam poured out of his mouth.
To be continued
(User) posted @ 8:51 PM
