his father taught him to see the signs, the unmistakable marks of the devil on the body of a man or woman, child or even
beast. that knowledge came at a heavy price, the cost of his happiness forever more, but he held to it tightly knowing it
would keep him afloat in the stormed tossed ocean that had been flung while others would sink into the inquitious black embrace
of that stinkin water.
part of the secret, his daddy revealed to him one night, is that we're all evil and sinful, all of us coveted by the
devil. cherish freedom, trust in god but never trust yourself. always have a good man at to watch your back, and you watch
his likewise.
you kin spend twenty years in service to the lord and in one instant, in a heartbeat, the devils has you by the hair
and a dragging you down into thell.
the devil abhors the weight of a christian hand, son, he hates to be punished.
his children scattered like mice when he walked into the kitchen, his wife doused the lamps in her eyes, the dog crawled
whining under the table
he imagined the devil climbing into the stove to escape his fathers terrible accusing eyes
as the strap fell he imagined it was the devil gnashing his teeth, yelling and wailing. he saw how much his father suffered
to punish him and his heart swelled with love
later when his mother would apply a wet cloth to the welts on his back he was careful to keep an image of jesus in his
head hoping it would stand as a light over his head and keep the devil at bay, though invariably old nick would be back, climbing
up into his nostrils while he slept
not fooling his dad in the least who'd point a fork at him across the breakfast table and nod as if he'd met an old friend
