SOUL: His Stolen Soul By Janie D

His Stolen Soul
By Janie D
How long did this go on? She didn’t know but it seemed to go on for a lifetime. Eventually, however it stopped. Maybe she got through to him, maybe he came to his senses, maybe the unknown entity that had taken over his very soul had been evicted by her prayers, or maybe he just got too tired to continue. Whatever the reason, she was relieved that it had ended, at least for now.
Now, he had not only passed out in front of the only exit from the apartment that was over a barn away from earshot of the nearest neighbor, he had also unplugged the phone line. Now this was before the era of cell phones and even though it was called a cordless phone, it did rely on a hard-wire connection from the wall to the base.
Too frightened to climb the stairs to the loft bedroom, she cowered in the recliner chair where she could watch him, wait for him to wake up, or come to might have been a more accurate way to express it. Finally, the darkness of night started to give way to the wakening dawn. Still he was sitting there with his back against the door with legs spread out in front, feet apart as if he were awaiting an invisible child to play roll the ball, like we used to before we were allowed to bounce a ball in the house.
Then he stirred. He looked around as if attempting to figure out where he was, what had occurred. When he spied her in the recliner, with a blanket pulled up over her face, leaving only the tiniest peep hole that allowed her to watch him. Slowly he came more fully conscious. She was frightened to her core, wondering if it would start again.
Alas, he (or something) seemed to have wiped what had happened right out of his memory. He seemed to wonder why she was afraid, as he realized she was shuttering uncontrollably.
As she sheepishly recapped for him the events of the previous night, he seemed astonished and disbelieving until she lowered the blanket that was covering her swollen, bruised face. He fell to his knees and laid his head in her lap, and sobbed.
Although she was frightened, she felt sorry for the man whose tears were wetting the blanket. There were so many thoughts, and feelings tumbling around in her aching head. Still, she was frightened, but this was the man she loved. Compassion, fear, love, hate. Around and around and around. Compassion, fear, love, hate. Around and around and around like a child on a merry-go-round.
After what seemed like an eternity, his head lifted and he tried to dial the phone but it was dead. Again, afraid to move, she nodded toward unplugged phone cord. On hands and knees he crawled across the floor to plug in the phone.

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