Chapter 5

 

That evening, Maureen looked out into the darkening gloom of her front yard from her living room’s large picture window. She religiously avoided looking out that window whenever the sky started to darken. But when a couple of her dinner guests had protested that she should fully open her drapes to allow Florida’s cool evening air to seep into the house, she had reluctantly acquiesced. 

Maureen was a much sought after practicing clinical psychologist; and in that role she couldn’t admit to anyone other than Fred that she, of all people, was troubled by a childhood fear. It was the continuous dread of the deep dark night, and with it her perceived fear of the existence of a ubiquitous swarm of imaginary creatures that might be lurking there. She knew that many people in her profession went into the practice to attempt to deal with their own psychoses and neuroses; she recognized that she was not an exception. This particular murky night there was a powerful northerly wind bringing in a fierce rainstorm. The unrelenting wind gave curious animation and violent movements to the row of front yard palms that Fred had recently had planted. That movement, combined with the dim glow of a distant street light filtering through the palm’s fronds, created a disturbing undulating image which represented in Maureen’s mind, dark, hideous sub-humans with elongated arms and pointed fingers sweeping in unison across her yard. As she turned away, she sensed that the unknown evil residing in her front yard was now oozing under the tiny space between her front door and the heavily polished golden oak floor beneath it. She channeled all her energy, blanked her mind, shivered, and turned away from the imaginary vision, re-directing her full attention toward the brightly lit dining room and the emotional warmth exuded by her evening’s guests. 

Had Maureen observed her yard more clearly, and not let her imagination distort the reality of what was happening just outside, she would have observed a dark figure moving silently and purposely toward the side of her house. And if she possessed her husband’s intuitive powers, she might have also known that the person out in the darkness was in fact pure evil. As a psychologist, she didn’t believe evil really existed. A deity perhaps, but she was even ambivalent about that. Empirical evidence about magical white lights during death experiences was starting to turn around her agnostic beliefs. On the other hand, she knew that selective brain activity induced by dying cells might well be the reason for the illusion of a godly white light. But the existence of a devil—no way. 

Oh, sure she thought, some people were activated by hate, mental distress, indifference to human life and all sorts of anti-social and criminal behavior—but evil? Never! Evil was for those fundamentalists who literally embraced all elements of the Bible, and didn’t understand that all human behavior is formed through successive generations of genetic footprints and personal interactions. In her mind all undesirable tendencies could, over-time, be re-programmed and modulated. At least that was what she thought she believed; and if she really didn’t believe it, she would have to resign from her job out of ethical considerations, as she was a highly ethical person. So damn it—she did believe! 

But, regardless of Maureen’s convictions, evil did lurk just outside of her house, an evil that didn’t just thrive in the night as Maureen might have really believed. And it was just about to enter her house.