O Holy Night

September 30, 2009

O Holy Night
September 29, 2009

“Fall on your knees; oh hear, the angels voices.”

Another lonely night. Winds howling around my house, screaming for me to let them in and tear up my house; effectively remodeling my whole life. “This has to end,” I say to myself, but really, it doesn’t. It knows this and pays no mind to me.

My head is pounding. Feels like the construction workers are inside, pounding away at my skull with their jackhammers. Eyes are burning and so I close them. While the storm is raging outside, it’s nothing compared to the mayhem happening inside. Illness overcomes me, and left alone with my thoughts, I’m paralyzed. Paralyzed from the heart down. Memories rush through me, and I’m just too damn tired to make them stop. Tears fall. I pay no attention. Someone somewhere saws away at a heart string, with an old toothbrush. Too disgusted to say anything, I bleed.

“Christ. I want to die.” If he was listening, he pretended not to hear. My continuing to live is proof enough of that. Meanwhile, I slink out of my clothes and slowly get myself into the shower. The hot water feels good on my achy body, and I’m in no rush to get out. I hear someone in my living room, and freeze- I’m supposed to be alone. Getting out of the shower and grabbing a knife while walking to the living room has never taken so long, or been so loud. I could have sworn that everybody within a five mile radius heard me move. I turn the corner and prepare to attack, but instead find myself coming to a sudden halt. It’s him.

Him. The very reason for my existence, standing not even three feet away from me… But how? He’s dead. He died years ago, leaving me to crawl my wretched way through this fucked up thing they call “life”. Yet, this was him- I know it. I could never mistake his smell, or the feel of his presence with anyone. To be sure, I reached out and touched him. The answering jolt of electricity was proof enough for me, but just in case, he looked up at me. If eyes could melt through the layers of pain and self-made ice, his would be the ones. Pain shot through my nerves, and I crumpled up in the middle of the floor. My heart trembled. “I love you,” he whispered, in a voice so small, I almost couldn’t hear. My heart stopped. I forgot to breathe. Not even tears were capable of breaking through this new paralyzation. Time no longer existed.

“Long lay the world, in sin and error pining.”

With a gentle lift up on my chin, I was forced to look into his eyes. This time, the tears came freely. All the pain and anguish from the time of his death to now, was coursing through my veins. As soon as I felt my voice begin to cry out, he vanished. His ghost had left me. Now I truly was alone, sitting naked on my floor. I took my knife and lashed out against myself; leaving long, bleeding stripes on my body. The newfound pain brought a sense of relief and calmness I didn’t think possible. Exhausted, I collapse.

Howl. The winds are still howling. Screaming. Tearing around my house in a psychotic frenzy. I look out my window and see a hooker. She’s ugly. Wearing fishnets, a mini skirt, and a halter top, she stands, barely able to support herself in those goddamn stripper heels. What a waste of life. A john pulls up and Betty the Hoe gets in. Wonder what she’ll be doing tonight. Mental images of wild, unbridled sex, flash across my imagination, and I find myself turned on. “Hypocrite.” I think, “You condemn her and then turn to masturbation? What a fuckin’ hypocrite.” I can’t help myself. I’ve never felt so absolutely alone before, and so, well, needy.

Need. Such a strong motivator. The hungry man turns to stealing; the lonely turn to sex. And I- I turn to numbness. I have allowed myself to feel far too much tonight. This might not be really living, but who said I wanted to live according to your definition? Back off. This is my life, however small and pathetic it might be. Tonight’s the night for all the sinners to come forward and pay their dues. Tonight’s the night that I come forward and let my bleeding heart die.

Nature is a voracious wolf, devoid of compassion or nurturing. The tears stop, and my breathing slows while my mind drives at insane speeds to reach a decision. My hand reaches for the door and I open it. Stepping outside, the screaming winds envelop my body, blowing debris into the wounds. I begin to run. A hymn, a Christmas hymn nonetheless, plays in my head as I run towards my future. “O holy night, the stars are brightly shining!” Blackness.

I see nothing. “It is the night of our dear savior’s birth! Long lay the world, in sin and error pining!” My body is forced down to the cold pavement, and my legs spread wide. I feel another body above mine, and a ripping sensation as he forces himself upon me. Unable to restrain myself, I scream. “’Til he appeared, and the soul felt its worth!” My insides feel as if they’re on fire, and I stop screaming when he puts a hand around my throat. Where is my soul’s worth? Is this it? Nothing? Worthless? “A ray of hope, the weary world rejoices! As yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn!” Fuck hope. This world can keep its weariness. This dog who dares to call himself a man, whispers in my ear, “Bitch! You better shut the hell up! You fuckin’ slut! You asked for this!” His hand around my throat prevents my answer. “Fall on your knees, oh hear the angel voices…” He finishes, and takes his hand from my throat. “Whore.” He spits on my face, and while my eyes are closed, I feel cold. A warm bubbling sensation makes itself known, and when I open my eyes I see the knife handle sticking out of my throat. “Oh night, divine! O night, when Christ was born…” He removes the knife from my throat, and I close my eyes again. Odd, that I’m still hearing this damn Christmas song in my head. It’s not even bloody Christmas. “O night, O holy night! O night, O holy night!” As I lay there, choking on my blood, HE appears again. He takes my hand into his and his eyes, full of sorrow, fill me with peace. I try to speak through the blood, “I’m okay. I love you.” but I know it’s unintelligible. Good thing the dead have better senses than the living. He smiles and kisses my forehead. It’s the last thing I remember.

All rights copyrighted, 2009, DeAnne Evans.


One Response to “O Holy Night”

  1. Ray Lokison Says:

    I loved this piece.Powerful and raw and dark and so very beautiful.

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