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Deliver Me From Evil Series



As I got older mommy revealed more tales to me; stories of how people would take out their revenge on others when they were wronged, making people do what you wanted them to do, causing money to come to you when you wanted it. I wanted to be just like those people, people like my mother.  I didn’t know then what my mother was, I just wanted to have that kind of power.  I began to have more strange and unexplainable images haunt my sleep.  With nightmares most people would simply shake them off and go back to bed, not me.  My terrors were physically crippling, so much so that I would rather lie in the bed and wet myself than to open my eyes and confront the images that have now taken on a physical manifestation.  There were times when I would feel the weight of a body pressing on my chest. Once, I was punched in my face so hard that I felt the pain even until the morning.  There was the distinct feeling of rats running across my ankles, but not to my surprise, when I pulled back my covers there was nothing there.  I saw shadows and silhouettes race through my parent’s home, during the day, during the night, it didn’t matter.  I was terrified to be home alone.

One year at Christmas time, my parents hid our presents inside a locked room in the basement. My brother, who was just above me in age, was always enticing me to do his dirty deeds.  He compelled me into
assisting him in breaking into the room, to behold the forbidden treasures, and then to tuck them away neatly, before anyone would discover our mincing crime. We were like other children, curious as cats, once you feed us we’ll always come back.  Day after day we would sneak off to the basement.  At some point I had decided I was adventurous enough that I didn’t need my brother anymore and I was off to behold the artifacts of the sacred throne room alone.  I had discovered how to unlock the door for myself, but before I could place my hand to the door knob, there just the end of the hall, stood before me what appeared to be a man, with a shabby gray beard.  He looked like he had been in a fire, his flesh was burned from head to toe, and his clothing was charred and falling from his body.  I ran up the steps as fast as my feet could get me there.  Needless to say I never did that again.

By the time I was about 11 or 12, the abnormality of my surroundings didn’t scare me as much.  I began to dismiss the occurrences as a vivid imagination gone wild.  I started getting involved with school, sports, band, choir, track, student government, drama, friends, anything, anything, anything, at all, so long as it could keep me from being in that house.  But, my one favorite pastime was my passion for music, All kinds of things, all kind of music. I was becoming a connoisseur of sorts. It was fun for me, it was my escape from reality, lying there on the living room floor, in front of the stereo, just me and, and the pop stars of the 80′s.  It was reminiscent of an advertisement from my favorite bubble bath commercial, “let it take you away”, and it certainly did.  For a time I was lost in another place.  Where I went? I couldn’t tell you.  The stereo was one of several girls. Those large floor models, a sure symbol of the 1970s, and it was as big as any piece furniture in the house.  It had a record player, a tape recorder and an eight track system.  Every day, seven days a week, I would lose myself in the resonance sounds produced by this mammoth instrument.  They vibrated across my body. Until that one particular day; it started out the same, my lying on my back, wedged between the stereo and the coffee table, and the only thing I could hear was the undertone pounding of the drum line.  The pulse was so powerful; it took over the very rhythm of my heart beat.  It was all I can remember, I don’t know what came over me, what took control of me.

I was jarred by the panic stricken commands being shouted at me, “Judy let go, let go of the knife!”.  I held a kitchen knife clasped tightly in my grasp, I was lunging for my brother, the Mommy’s boy.  The voice was my uncle’s, he was pleading with me not to hurt my brother.  My baby sister stood afar off co-signing my uncle’s pleas to me.  Suddenly I remembered where I was — I dropped  the knife.  My uncle questioned me repeatedly, “What is wrong with you”.  I didn’t have an answer. No one ever talked about what happened to me that day, not with me, not with each other, as a matter of fact that day was never discussed again.

Tune in next month for the continuation of “Deliver Me From Evil.” Series.

judy washington

Judy Washington, Spiritual Counseling Director and Co-founder of the Christian Counseling and Wellness Center for Women, has over 20 years of experience in mental health counseling, counselor training and consulting. Her teaching and interests include life structuring, career and education counseling, spirituality and mental health, integrated with prolific teachings based in theology and spirituality.



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