Read Online The Boy With Penny Eyes by Al Sarrantonio - Free Book Online
Authors: Al Sarrantonio
Tags: Horror
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and then stopped, leaving the sharp, clean smell of ozone. Water dropped from the roof outside into a depression of dirt outside her window. The world smelled like July, after a storm.
The door to her room opened. Mary felt her mother enter as much as heard her. "Mary?" she called impatiently, but then the tone changed by the end of the word. Mary hugged the bear, looked out as two thin legs, bearing feet in two old shoes, stopped before the bed.
"Mary?" her mother said. Her voice had a tone Mary had not heard since she was a baby. Her mother bent down, her face dropping below the line of the bed, becoming visible to the girl.
"Come out, Mary," she said softly.
Mary crawled out. Her mother's hand brushed back her hair. She sat on the bed, next to her mother, her face buried in her mother's dress.
She heard Uncle Henry come to the door, and start to say, "We—" but then he stopped and went away. Her mother's hand rested on her head, stroking her hair.
Her mother said, "Are you scared, Mary?"
"Yes."
"Don't be. This is what God wants you to do."
"It's not!" she bawled. "He would never want me to do something I'm afraid of!" And then she was crying, and her mother held her even tighter.
"What are you afraid of?"
"I'm scared of telling them they have to die!"
"That's nothing to be frightened of. All of these people—you'll be helping them. Their light is God's own light, in them." After a moment her mother said, "God is speaking to you, Mary. He's speaking to you through me. And He's telling me that this is a great gift He's given you, and that there's nothing for you to be afraid of. He will always tell you what to do." She could feel the strength in her mother's arms. "God gave you this gift to root out Satan, Mary. That's the real reason why you must read. If you were to read Satan, you would find him out, because there would be a sickly light, nearly black emptiness, because God's light has been taken from him." She held Mary away from her, and there was an almost prophetic gleam in her eye. "If you were to root Satan out, it would be because God wanted you to, and I would be there to tell you what He wants."
Oh, God, tell me what to do!
She remembered the look on her mother's face when she left to marry Jacob, the cold certainty in her mother's grim eyes that said, "This is not what God wants. This voice in your heart is Satan's voice."
There came a sound outside the bathroom door.
Who could that be? She could hear the distant, muffled sound of voices singing a hymn, which meant that Jacob's service had not ended. Christine would be there assisting him, taking Mary's own place after she had told Jacob she did not feel well and wanted to stay in bed.
Could it be the boy?
"Who's out there?" she called.
The footsteps stopped outside the bathroom door.
Mary held her breath.
The footsteps moved away from her, down the hallway. She heard a door close and then nothing.
It must have been the boy.
Oh, God. Mother.
In all the years since she had left her mother, since she had married Jacob and become his wife, she had thought she had done the right thing. But listening to that other voice, the one in her heart, had been the wrong thing after all. As her mother had known, that voice had been Satan's, tempting her, leading her away from her reading and the true calling that God wanted her to take, the searching out of Satan.
And now her mother was gone, and she had to beg Him to tell her what to do, alone. God, please help me!
Because she had found what He had wanted her to.
That morning, when she had discovered the boy sleeping in the back of the church, huddled there like a lost animal, her mind had unconsciously opened when she put her hand on him and she had read him, and there had been only a weak, dull light.
Nearly black emptiness.
12
Someone called his name.
He heard the lap of the shore, the gurgle of water in the fish tank, but now when he opened his eyes there was no ripple on the ceiling
The door to her room opened. Mary felt her mother enter as much as heard her. "Mary?" she called impatiently, but then the tone changed by the end of the word. Mary hugged the bear, looked out as two thin legs, bearing feet in two old shoes, stopped before the bed.
"Mary?" her mother said. Her voice had a tone Mary had not heard since she was a baby. Her mother bent down, her face dropping below the line of the bed, becoming visible to the girl.
"Come out, Mary," she said softly.
Mary crawled out. Her mother's hand brushed back her hair. She sat on the bed, next to her mother, her face buried in her mother's dress.
She heard Uncle Henry come to the door, and start to say, "We—" but then he stopped and went away. Her mother's hand rested on her head, stroking her hair.
Her mother said, "Are you scared, Mary?"
"Yes."
"Don't be. This is what God wants you to do."
"It's not!" she bawled. "He would never want me to do something I'm afraid of!" And then she was crying, and her mother held her even tighter.
"What are you afraid of?"
"I'm scared of telling them they have to die!"
"That's nothing to be frightened of. All of these people—you'll be helping them. Their light is God's own light, in them." After a moment her mother said, "God is speaking to you, Mary. He's speaking to you through me. And He's telling me that this is a great gift He's given you, and that there's nothing for you to be afraid of. He will always tell you what to do." She could feel the strength in her mother's arms. "God gave you this gift to root out Satan, Mary. That's the real reason why you must read. If you were to read Satan, you would find him out, because there would be a sickly light, nearly black emptiness, because God's light has been taken from him." She held Mary away from her, and there was an almost prophetic gleam in her eye. "If you were to root Satan out, it would be because God wanted you to, and I would be there to tell you what He wants."
Oh, God, tell me what to do!
She remembered the look on her mother's face when she left to marry Jacob, the cold certainty in her mother's grim eyes that said, "This is not what God wants. This voice in your heart is Satan's voice."
There came a sound outside the bathroom door.
Who could that be? She could hear the distant, muffled sound of voices singing a hymn, which meant that Jacob's service had not ended. Christine would be there assisting him, taking Mary's own place after she had told Jacob she did not feel well and wanted to stay in bed.
Could it be the boy?
"Who's out there?" she called.
The footsteps stopped outside the bathroom door.
Mary held her breath.
The footsteps moved away from her, down the hallway. She heard a door close and then nothing.
It must have been the boy.
Oh, God. Mother.
In all the years since she had left her mother, since she had married Jacob and become his wife, she had thought she had done the right thing. But listening to that other voice, the one in her heart, had been the wrong thing after all. As her mother had known, that voice had been Satan's, tempting her, leading her away from her reading and the true calling that God wanted her to take, the searching out of Satan.
And now her mother was gone, and she had to beg Him to tell her what to do, alone. God, please help me!
Because she had found what He had wanted her to.
That morning, when she had discovered the boy sleeping in the back of the church, huddled there like a lost animal, her mind had unconsciously opened when she put her hand on him and she had read him, and there had been only a weak, dull light.
Nearly black emptiness.
12
Someone called his name.
He heard the lap of the shore, the gurgle of water in the fish tank, but now when he opened his eyes there was no ripple on the ceiling
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