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  • Writer's pictureBelinda Lane

TALES OF THE F.B.I. (Faith Base Investigations)

August 20, 2021


Written by: J. Anthony Spencer

Hope stands in the bedroom doorway of Ms. Diane Scott, the mother of Dwight Scott. Dwight’s intention was to show Hope his illustrated reason he has no belief in a higher power. Hope hadn’t known what to suspect when she entered the room, but it wasn’t this. Ms. Scott lay motionless in her bed, but her expression was anything but peaceful. And the source of her pain appeared to be a small whipcord thin creature sitting or hovering by her head. It had dark matted fur and looked to be only two feet in height. Its eyes were black slits with irises that shifted in shades of red. The mouth was a larger slit and she could tell it was full of razor-sharp teeth that ended in sharp points. She could tell this because it looked directly at her and smiled. She discovered that her “awareness” had unconsciously become split between the material and spiritual worlds. In the material, she could hear Dwight, unaware of the creature, talking about his mother. In the spiritual, the bed bearing Ms. Scott and the creature floated in a gray void.

Looking at the creature, the word Imp came to mind, and once it had seen her, she became the focus of its attention. She looks at Dwight and says “If you don’t mind I would like to pray for her.” Without waiting for any answer, her material and spiritual body moved to the bed, sitting on the left side of Ms. Scott. The imp retreated somewhat, but she notices it never broke contact with its host. The hiss that issued from it was full of malevolence, but somehow she knew the imp didn’t have the power or permission to attack her directly. Her awareness still divided. She looks at Dwight, who is looking at her with a reserved expression. She grabs the hand of Ms. Scott and feels the familiar but muted surge of energy of a believer. This imp or minor demon must rob her of her will to live or filling her head with something as damaging. Again, she sees that either by hand or feet, it maintains contact with Ms. Scott. She talks directly to Ms. Scott on the spiritual plane. “Ms. Scott, listen to me. I am Hope of the Divine.” She has used her liturgical title as an agent of the F.B.I. would mean nothing to her. “What you are feeling is not medical or emotional. It is a trick of The Fallen to remove you from your family, from your life. I am Hope and you must expand on your own hope. You have to have faith.” She considers reaching out for her fellow agent (Faith) but decides on another route.

“Ms. Scott, pray with me. Let the faith be a fire unto your soul.” Dwight hears Hope praying for his mother, who remains still. But this stillness in only in the material world. On the spiritual plane, Ms. Scott’s lips are moving, but also there is a pained expression as the imp forces his influence more aggressively. Dwight looks on unware of the battle on the spiritual plane that has taken an ominous tone. The prayers of Hope and Ms. Scott increases in its urgency even as the creature’s hiss becomes a howl as it fights to maintain control. Despite the pain, Ms. Scott’s prayers, spurred on by Hope’s words, have become more vocal, and then it happens.

With a small whoosh of air being displaced, the enigmatic Prayer is standing there. The white cowl falls from his head and their eyes meet briefly before he closes his and his hands clasp before him. Hope knows that Prayer’s powers increases through his connection with humans. As an agent, her prayers are heard, but only the prayers of mortals amplify his power. Though she is still holding Ms. Scott’s hand, the battle is now hers and Prayer’s. Prayer’s lips move silently, but the prayer from Ms. Scott has reached a crescendo. A small nimbus of light forms around Prayer and radiates out. As it does, it bleached the once gray void white. The light continues outward, and she notices the imp has grown in both height, width and ferocity. As the light touches it, a blood curling sound issues from the sharp toothed mar. It holds on as long as it can before, with a scream, it vanishes. The void is now white as apparently the light has filled the entire space void.

Prayer pulls the cowl over his head and, with a nod, disappears from sight. The void fades, and Hope and Ms. Scott are now fully in the material world. Ms. Scott looks at her and says. “Hope?” and then seemingly can’t remember why she should know the name or the woman bearing it. “Ms. Scott, lay back, get some rest. I am sure you can use it.” Dwight rushes to the right side of the bed, tears streaming down his face. “Ma? Mama?” She reaches up and gently touches his face. “My dear, dear boy. Why the tears?” She asks. Words don’t come to him, so he gives up and gently hugs her. Hope stands and moves towards the door and stops. “Could you get me a bite to eat?” asks Ms. Scott. “And get your guest something cold to drink. She looks like she can use it.” Dwight gets up, excuses himself and wordlessly goes to the kitchen.

Only a handful of words have passed between Hope and Dwight as he reenters the living room some minutes later. Though she needs nothing to drink, she has to admit the iced tea in the glass she is absently holding in her hand is good. There is an episode of the American comedy, The Office, on the television that she is paying little attention to. Dwight sits on the sofa, making an almost conscious effort not to sit too close. “Hope, huh?” he breaks the silence. “Yes, its Hope.” He takes the opening and questions further. “How would my mother wake up and know that?” She smiles and says, “Some people are lucky like that. Or I could look like a Hope, since that is my name.” His only response is “Uh, huh.” But then he pushes further. “Prayer, huh?” “Yep, prayer,” she answers. The conversation hit the inevitable uncomfortable pause. They find out that they are both looking at the end of The Office episode when the Michael Scott character looks into the camera and says, “Is there a God? If not, what are all these churches for? And who is Jesus’s dad?” and the credits roll.

Dwight stares at the screen as if Michael Scott was talking directly to him. But what are the chances that Michael Scott speaks about God when clearly……… Hope stands, drains the glass and says. “Dwight, I have to be going. I am glad that your mother is doing better. I have to go but I will be in touch.” Dwight, still a little shaken by the events of the last few hours, stands as well. “Is there someplace I can drop you?” he asks. “No, I will be fine”. She says. “We will catch up in a few days.” She walks to the door and exits. Dwight suddenly questions for the second time how will they meet when they have exchanged no contact information. He rushed to the door, looking both ways without seeing her. He slowly closes the door and walks to his mother’s room, looking in. She smiles at him and says. “Has your guest left?” He nods and smiles before saying. “I’ll be in the living room, Mom. If you need me, just call out.” He goes into the living room and flops onto the couch, wondering just what was that thing he saw at the top of his mother’s bed.

(All Stories are original and has Copyrights)

Thank you for joining me for Friday at Sundown. Remember… Just Breathe!

Over the next couple of months, I will be presenting mostly stories only, written by

J Anthony Spencer. Again I appreciate your support (Likes, Share and Comments).

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