I Am Holy, Free of Sin

I saw him that night. 

I was at the study, reading by the warmth of an artificial light. I was enthralled, per usual, when I caught sight of him.

He did not flee, but rather, made himself bigger. The room got cold and I knew who he was. 

He was a massive rich coal silhouette upon my wall. He had a strong jaw, prominent nose, and wore a wide brimmed hat. His body retreated down into the paneling, but by squinting, I saw the shape of a baby inside his silhouette. 

I was chilled--frozen to the spot. The Devil had found a way inside. 

I knew it was him. The form was not physical, but demonic nonetheless. He stood there, watching me with no eyes, no movement whatsoever. 

Finally, I stood upon the creaky floor, and bounded after my rosary. It was humble and beaded; something I had obtained as a child, but still, it brought me comfort. 

I knew naught what to do. It's not everyday that someone encounters the Devil; it is never foretold what to do in this kind of situation. Mostly, I assume, because those who feel the wispy air and look straight into the heart of the Devil are then lost. Gone. Devoured. Dead. 

I walked toward the bed on the other side of the room, rosary still in hand. I leaped into bed and held the rosary close. Maybe if I turned off the lights, said a prayer, and went to sleep, the Devil would be none the wiser. 

So I pulled the blanket up to my chin, rosary still in my grasp, nestled up by my cheek, and prayed. 

I prayed to God so that I may wake. 

I then turned off my light, and tried to sleep. 

And so I did, for a very long time. 

I don't recall ever waking up, in fact. 

All I remember is the shifting of my rosary, me turning in my sleep, and a tightness around my throat. 

I don't remember if the Devil left my room that night. 

I don't remember if I left either.