David's Pen

This was what emptiness felt like. This act of intimacy, devoid of anything. The presence of a man, so close yet so far away. The sound of the other women, chatting as they passed the house, but not to her. The emptiness of her life, empty of joy, empty of hope, empty of meaning. She knew how she had got here, couldn’t imagine any other choices. All her paths led to the same place. Five husbands. Five. Each with reducing hope and now, a man, but not a husband. "At least I won’t be alone" she had lied, knowing that the day would soon come when even with his presence she would feel alone, perhaps, even more alone. It was over. In the past, there was always the hope that maybe, this time, she would be pregnant, but the continued emptiness of her womb echoed the emptiness of her life. She got up to wash the memory of him away, with the last of the water. He could bathe in the river later, he at least could still be seen in public. She dressed in silence and the drud

Legion was terrified. He was terrified of the next outburst of uncontrolled, demon fuelled rage. Terrified of the injuries he would wake up with, terrified of the injuries to others that he would cause. He was terrified of the isolation his problems created, terrified of the fear he saw in the eyes of others, terrified of the loneliness that lay ahead. And right now, he could feel the terror of the demons that inhabited him. They were terrified of the one who they sensed was coming and their terror radiated through him. But worse than the terror they felt at Jesus coming was the unspeakable terror he had that he might not come. That somehow, the demons would prevent it, that he would turn away from the danger of being near him, that he would realise how unworthy he was of the risk and turn the boat around. The storm howled out of nowhere, the sound ripping at his mind, the wind tearing at the last vestiges of sanity, the screams of the demons a backdrop to the deep-throated