The Intruder

The house is dark, the sun has set and there is only a small light lit in the living room area. Mom had been in the house for a few days, lying in her bed as she tends to do most days.

This day she decided to go out.

It was quite late by the time she returned. She had Johnny with her. She has loved Johnny since the beginning of time, so it's no surprise to see her with him again. It seems these chances are few and far between but she has never given up the desire to spend time with him. Intimate time that is.

He always came in the darkness of the night and left before dawn. On rare occasions he would come during the day but that was very, very seldom. This has been going on for at least 50 years if not longer. Since the time she met him in this lifetime, and as long as she lived. There were times when I would argue with her and ask her to stop doing this. It's borrowed time, I would say over and over, he has other responsibilities. But she would never concede, in fact her only concession was to allow him to return, over and over again, whenever he could, that is.

So tonight, after various reactions to this, from happiness to see him again, to anger, to refusal to accept that my mother was so weak, to this night, where I simply accepted that this ritual will continue for all of eternity. He means more to her than I can imagine, fathom or understand. Their bond was immutable and will probably last into eternity, give or take a day or two. She has never, ever refused him, not ever.

This marriage was made not by conventional standards, but by standards that override all traditions on this plane of existence. It is a dimensional marriage, that only those who reside there can understand and tell the story. Finally, I can tell the story, as I am enveloped in this dimension with them. Many times I would tell her about my journeys with them, my reactions to them, my desire for them to be more than two ships in the night, passing each other after a long pause to meet and greet each other. She would smile knowingly and say, "I will always love Johnny." as if this was such a fact of life, like growing grass or sinking ships. It was her love and she didn't even care who believed it was true love. She knew in her own mind that know journey, no challenge, no other relationship would change that for her. She would simply retire to her room after each visit and stay there till the next time.

A knock comes to the door, I open it, and there he stands. I have always thought to myself, he is such a handsome man, tall and dark, beautiful black skin laced over a provocative structure of strength, authority and deep loving warm eyes. His smile would simply move me to tears each time I would see him. I have watched this journey with them since I was a very young child. They are both resting now, but I am sure they continue to enact this ritual, two ships in the night who pass after a brief pause.

"Hi, Johnny!" I say, my excitement surprises me.

He looks at me, smiles and says, "Hi, how are you doing?' He must have noticed that I have matured quite a bit since the last time he was here, only a few weeks ago. He seems to never age, neither does my mother. They are both as they were, when they were enacting this ritual during its initiation at least 50 years ago or more. I don't notice that they do not age. I simply love to see him, and I love the joy my mother feels when he does come over.

Her whole demeanor would change, as if a God had come to pay her a visit. Her smile would break her face, but it was a genuine, sincere, loving smile. Since this side of her was rare, I think I secretly wished he would never leave, although I knew he had to, he always did.

As is custom, he walked straight to the bedroom and got into bed with her. Ha, I remember the times, I would come into the room and attempt to throw him out! He would just laugh at me and hold on to my mother, who never resisted him, ever! I would become enraged on occasion. How could she allow herself to be used in such a way for so many years, seemed like forever. When I was younger, I didn't burst into their room, I would catch her before he came over or after she left.

"Mom!! How can you just keep doing this, over and over again??"

I felt empowered that I had grown old enough to say something to her. She always appeared deaf to my urgings, like my words were empty space between my lips. She would never chastise me or instruct me to leave her alone. It was that same quiet knowing they had, that nothing or no one could stop them from their passing like two ships in the night that paused for a while.

Johnny goes directly to my mother's room, he gets into bed with her and I just shake my head and walk away.

The night is velvet smooth, purple and soft. I never really heard them as they indulged each other. I would wonder if they were done, but it always seemed they had to go to sleep afterwards, so in the morning before dawn, he would get up and leave the house. She would stay in the bed until he returned again.

Tonight the ritual changed. Half way through the night, he left and she left with him. That was odd.  I can barely remember them going out together, maybe they did so once or twice, but to see them go out together changed the whole energy in the whole house. It was strange, it was indescribable.

A few hours later my mother returned, but she had some other man with her. I am in the living room as I was when Johnny came, maybe I wanted to be sure she would be okay out there. I am not sure why I stayed up waiting there. I guess I was processing this thing, this very strange thing of her going out with Johnny, in the middle of the night.

She smiled at my questioning gaze and walked by me followed by this scrawny lean man, wearing an overcoat and a Stetson hat. He appeared cocky and I immediately dislike him. But I was wondering what she was doing bringing home this guy. Then I remembered. He was the shadow she played with whenever Johnny was not there. That's right, in fact he was one of many. His cockiness made me laugh to myself as he had no clue that her heart belonged to Johnny and her body, well it made its rounds. He really was just another lump on her list of lumps.

He smiled a peculiar smile at me. I did not feel comfortable with it, nor did I like the way he carried himself. But I was more miffed by my mother. Not again, Mom, I thought, you know you don't like this dude, he ain't nothing like Johnny. Then I started to ask her what happened to Johnny, but thought better of it.

Is she just doing this to show Johnny he does not have as strong of a hold on her as he may think he has. Or did she grow to a point of realization that she might as well get her needs met in between her ritual of two ships passing in the night after a short pause.

I was a bit perplexed. Not that she hasn't done this before. In fact, it has been lately a new adventure for her to go out late and bring home some man she met at the bar, on the street, at the store, or somewhere out there in the middle of the night. She would bring them home and pass them by me as if they meant absolutely nothing to me, or even to her.

He gives me a smirk and passes by me, following her into the bedroom, he had frequented in the pass. I don't know how many times before, but never after Johnny. That was the strange part, he appeared on the same night that Johnny was here. That was more than strange, that was insane! What made either of them think that would work?

Well, actually it did not work. In fact this is where the horror began.

She couldn't bring herself to pleasure him in anyway. In fact, she laid next to him with her back facing him and confident that he would be pleased with her just being in the same bed with him. That was really strange. What man, brought into a woman's home, in the middle of the night, would be pleased with lying next to you looking at the back of your head?

After a while, I go to bed myself and fall asleep. In the middle of my dream, I feel this man in the bed with me. He puts his arms around me and pulls me towards him. I cannot tell if this is a dream or an out of body experience, since I have them often. I begin my litany of protection and purification as I am not sure if this is happening on this physical plane or in my dream.

He pulls me even closer to him whispering in this bizarre yet soft tone, "Since she wouldn't give me some, I am here to get it from you."

I come to full consciousness, this is not a dream and this man is in my bed!!

All my alarms go off and I call on all of the Warriors I can think of, Elegba, Ogun, Adade, Shango and any others I may have missed. This was not going to be good and I needed all the power I could muster to get this crazed person out of my bed before he went any further.

Everything turns red!

The knife appears from nowhere, and I begin to slice this man up, into pieces. The knife had ridges, so the slices in and out of his body were jagged and terribly bloody.

Everything is red.

The bed, my bed clothes, his clothes, his face, his gut, his arms, his stomach! Everything is bloody red! He mutters not a word during the whole ordeal. He slumps over. Barely alive, barely breathing, but seemingly not shocked that I had just mutilated him.

I gather up his thin mutilated body and take him to my mothers room and throw him on her bed.

"Here, mom, I think he belongs to you," I say standing over him.

There was no look of shock on her face. She simply looked at his dead body and watched him take his last breath.

Everything was bloody red.