Fists for Faith (Jake’s Story)

In the nighttime, my fear grew unbearable and I started to realize the world around me isn't as brightly lit as ever body else perceived. I had discovered this at about the age of nine.

        So my mom would stroke my curly hair until I slept and she'd whisper to me before I dozed off into my dreams, she'd whisper "Son, you're meant for so much more."

        Then a few months later, she gave me my Book of Sanctum, hundreds of pages that would keep me safe wherever I went- people call this the Holy Bible.

    

So everywhere I went, I carried a pocket-sized version of the book. I carried it to my job, I carried it to the movies, it went everywhere. But as I said before, it was with me at my job and where I worked I needed it. I was employed at a mortuary and my main duty was to fit the suits and dresses to each body I saw. Seeing so many bodies of who seemed to be pleasant people when they were dead and at peace, it could really drag your spirit down, but that's why I went to the dollar store every day.

At the dollar store, they sold crosses and crucifixes. I would always buy at least fourteen of them and tear them off of their small chains they were on and store them in my pocket. At work, when I figured what tailored suits would be assigned to each body, I would stick a cross into their breast pocket or a crucifix into the bow of a dress. I never got complaints for doing this, because I don't believe anybody took it as offensive, no matter what religion. I myself believed that what mattered was having someone out there was praying for you and looking at these dead bodies-these machines, these passageways into heaven I would always leave affected. I would hug the bodies of dead little girls, I would fix the hair of middle aged men with their eyes closed and I would straighten their ties before their funerals.

And when I left, I wondered why this had to happen. And as I exited the morgue, I buttoned my peacoat and I would walk in the dark. Scared of surroundings, I would pray to the Father, the Son, and the Spirit and I'd be okay. But the more and more I prayed, the more a loud voice tried to interrupt my thoughts.

        "You're next." I heard. "You're going to find yourself laying on one of those autopsy tables. I promise."    

And as I remained terrified, I continued going to my job, but things started to become strange. As I went to find the right fit for suits, they would jump up, grab my arm and scream. Sometimes the little girls would cry and ask why I killed them and sometimes they would get up and chased me. But all it took was for me to place a crucifix on a little girl's lips or put a cross by the dead assailant's temple. It was then that their eyes grow wide and they went back to peace. And it seemed I could stomach this until the reflection became me.

He grabbed and began to grow wide eyed, water spewing out of his mouth. Gasping, heaving for air, he just gagged on water, skin greenish and face flushed. I almost threw up but nonetheless I laid the cross on him and ran into the bathroom, opening the Book of Sanctum.

So I prayed to the Father, the Son, and the Spirit and they told me to evacuate my evils, I had to face them head on.

And for some reason, I knew we're my enemy would be. In the underbelly of the city, that scared pit in my stomach, under a sewer grate, it resided in there and as I went deeper down this filthy ladder, I started sweating. After enough climbing I looked down and saw exactly what I had expected, the Lake of Fire. And as I jumped down into it, I realized, contrary to popular belief, the Lake was the exact opposite of what was expected-it was the coldest thing you could imagine. It reeked of sorrow and pulled onto my ribcage as close as it could until I thought the chill was going to prevent them from in taking air. But as I pushed through the inferno, I felt something warm gracing my back. It touched me and made me smile and I realized I had the Spirit right behind me.

And for a moment I thought maybe how quickly I went to fight the demons was a bit senseless, but there are journeys a man has to go through and this felt like one. As I walked I saw it. What I had to face. It had many names, but I preferred to refer to it as the devil. It was slumped, halfway underwater.

    But as it rose, I could see the long black streaks of what was hair. It had eyeliner and pouting lips, it had a rounded pelvis and different curves than I. Before me was the beast, the demon, the devil, no, before me was a woman.

She stood naked trying to lure me over, but my stomach started to twist and I was prepared. My Book of Sanctum had warned me of this deception and I had awaited all of this, I had expected all of this, I had read all of this. "I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! SHOW YOURSELF, SHOW YOUR TRUE FORM." And she twitched into little spasms. I began saying prayers and seeing my Father, his Son, watching me with approval and I watched the demon shed forms as she remained the same but her eyes drew to the back of her head and she grew claws. The Father and the Son laid a sword upon my hands and the Spirit guided my arm slightly with me swinging in the air, backing it away.

The demon grew angry, she backed up, and charged, and I put my sword up, trying to block the fury of Satan itself.

Bite marks mark the dubious mash, but sword slashes mark the devil's defeat. And to this day, I still believe my mother. I knew she was right and I was meant for more. I was meant for a deeper understanding. And I'm not afraid anymore and I never will be again. I now know who's guiding the blades of my back, who watches me for my judgment and who makes sure I'm alright and ever since then I've traded my fists for my faith and I've never felt wrong about it.