Remnants of the Past

Diablo's Paradise

Diablo's Paradise


A small eclipse of your being is inevitable, no matter who or where you are, in that split second that the sky becomes blotted in darkness by birds in flight. Rational thought resumes as your mind processes the reason for the cloaked heavens. It may be just the impending storms or an approaching bout of coldness that sends the birds scurrying to other lands, but always you will cringe against the shadows overhead. It was just such a day, as I walked along the river road heading nowhere in particular. When the birds flew over, my pace slowed and my heart skipped a beat. Instantly, I was transported to childhood fears that the thriller of the 60's "The Birds" had instilled in my mind. Instinctively, I searched the landscape for monkey bars laden with crows. Finding none, I moved on with my travels.

I was finding it difficult to shake the feeling of darkness, or maybe better said aloneness. There was nothing eerie about the scenery. The sky had returned to the normal shade of purpling blue before dusk and the winds were calm. The trees were filled with the patchy fields of greenery as the telltale sign of spring. The waves on the river were just as spiked as they were before the birds flew their flight. Tucked deep in the bottom of my stomach was a gnawing pit of apprehension, like waiting for the proverbial shoe to crash haphazardly to the ground. I tried to write it off as hunger, with little success.

I turned to head home, back the way I had come. My queasy feeling traveled with me, and the sky, presumably wanting to do its part, darkened in front of me. This sky was different and ominous, with the birds held in some form of suspended animation. An endless line of black hovered above me. I could hear the flapping of their wings but their forward momentum was stilled. The sight caused me to move faster, but the birds mimicked my movement in reverse.

My response to the unearthly phenomena was a reflex retching of my stomach contents onto the pavement. I became dizzy with disbelief as three wayward ravens swooped down, defaulting from the ranks of their flock, to scoop up the gastric droppings.They returned to their troops before I could bat an eye, assuring me that the proverbial shoe I had feared had landed.

I have to admit to some inbred weirdness on my part that makes me a talker. This quirkiness means my inner calm is restored or maintained through self questioning and assurances.

"That did not just happen! I did not see that!" I said aloud to myself.

"Why do you question the events right in front of you?" he asked. Raspy and deep was the voice that answered my doubts and threatened my resolve. The warmth and the spittle of the voice were so close to my ear, I jerked away in reaction, but I was alone on my path.

Wanting only to flee, I could feel my innards melting into quivering goo. In panic, I ran zigzagged down the path.

"Paradise is calling," the voice beside me echoed in my ear.

"No! This is not real!" I screamed, repeating my words over and over again.

My wet tears were blinding me and my heart was racing faster than I could run. Winded from the pain in my chest, I had to stop. The audible thumping seemed to carry its own loudspeaker reverberating over the fields. Even the damn birds seemed to revel in the sound of my mania. They swooned and danced in the sky of darkness to the beat of my heart.

Feeling deflated, I stooped to the ground, covering my head as I bent down. One by one, the birds descended on me, pecking at me as they passed. Sharp scissoring beaks ripped at my flesh and tore at my hair. To shoo them away I swung my fists furiously into the air. My actions succeeded in deflecting the attack, but I couldn't refute the reality of the blood that poured from my wounds. Crazed by my injuries, I rose up to resume my attempt to escape.

"It is paradise that I offer for the price of your soul. Do not spit in the devil's eye," the raspy voice of anger boomed.

"I will not sleep in the Devil's tent," I screeched into the air. Unfamiliar to me was the tone of my voice and even the words that flew from mouth.

I continued running, but at first it was like I wasn't moving. Just like the birds in the sky, my progress was stalled. Even though the words were unrecognizable to me and I had no memory of where I had heard them, the phrase became my mantra.

"I will not sleep in the Devil's tent," I cried in desperation.

Suddenly, the birds fell from the sky and littered the ground around me. The faded blue sky returned and I could feel my feet hitting the pavement once again. It seemed an endless run but my hysteria had lessened.


"Doctor Diablo, that's when I found myself here. I don't remember how I got here," I whispered, breathless from relating my story.

"Yes, it was quite surprising to find you waiting in my office. Psychotic episodes are often alarming, but we have the power to overcome them if we desire," Doctor Diablo said with a deep and raspy voice turning his face toward the shadows of the room.

"Will I ever be free of this insanity?" I sobbed, distractedly wiping blood from the fresh abrasions. My grief was a familiar friend, just as Doctor Diablo was my consoler.

"Tell me again about the tent and why you won't bed down with the Devil," he said with a sinister laugh. His red flaming eyes were the only illumination to the room.

Word Count 984