HATRED

This is an exerpt from a story that I may be writing. Tell me what you think.

HATRED

She turns from the checkout counter, bag in hand. As she is turning, she meets a pair of the most intense eyes she’s ever seen staring back at her. For a split second, she was taken aback. She realizes that she was still smiling because the cashier had been so pleasant. Is it possible that he thought she was smiling at him? That simply would not do. No. She gave him a slight nod and carried on. Following the strapping man who carried her bags, she began to ponder her life. He was her one and only. Her soul mate.  Her ride or die. She was truly blessed. They had been through Hell together and come out the other side. They were a threefold cord which could not be broken. As she climbs into the Mini-van, she can’t shake the image of those dark eyes staring her down. The man’s eyes had been so dark they almost appeared to be black. The intensity of his stare had been palpable. She couldn’t shake the feeling. What bothered her more, was that she couldn’t quite put a name to it. It wasn’t attraction. He definitely wasn’t her type. Not that she had a type these days. She really hadn’t much noticed other men since she’d met Jeremy. They had had an immediate connection the moment that they met. Everyone else in the world had ceased to matter. Their love was a blazing inferno that could not be quenched. It had been tried on many occasions. Still, the man in the store brought forth something dormant in her. Even though he never spoke a word to her, she felt as if he had stripped her down to her soul. He knew a truth about her that no one else knew. How could it be? How could he have seen the darkness hidden so deeply inside of her? It was impossible. Yet, she knew it as truly as she knew her own name. He had seen her. He had seen who and what she truly was. And he had tried to tempt her as surely as the serpent in the garden had tempted Eve. She had stood firm at that moment. But, still she wondered what it was that he had seen. He had looked at her with such blatant hostility. Hatred had blazed in those onyx eyes. Those eyes, were so strange. Deep and fathomless. They almost seemed to be separate from the face of the man. As if they were not the eyes he was born with. They were the correct shape and size for his body. But, something was strange. They didn’t seem attached to his body in some odd way. She saw it. But, even more, she felt it. She felt it with every fiber of her being.  He hated her with a blackness so deep that the boundlessness of the universe could not begin to explain it. She couldn’t shake it. Why would he give her such a nasty look? Why would hate her? She didn’t know him. She’d never met him before in her life! If only that were so. She knew that she was often overly sensitive to these things. Most people that she knew thought she was tough; hard hearted even. But, that wasn’t the truth. Nothing on Earth usually is. The truth was that she felt things so much more intensely than most. She became easily depressed. Was usually torn to pieces by the sight of another person in pain. To observe the grief of others was an invitation for a cycle of depression that could send her into her shell for a week. She even became depressed when characters in the shows that she watched or books she read experienced tragedy. She had had to stop watching Criminal minds because it had subconsciously caused a depression in her that she couldn’t  deconstruct. Same thing with Grey’s Anatomy. Son’s of Anarchy got cut from her list because she was so upset with the characters for Tara’s sake. Ridiculous! She had been told by a few different Church leaders that she had the “Gift of Discernment” this often caused issues like these because the discerner could feel things in their own spirit that others never noticed. She wondered if this was the case, with Onyx. She had given him an imaginary name because she needed to identify him in some way. She decided on the most noticeable aspect of her experience with him. Those black eyes! Her spirit began to help her sort things out in her mind. You are right, the spirit exhorted. You think he saw you. But, what he saw was himself reflected back by your gift. What he truly despised was not you, but me. I am the Spirit inside of you. I am the Truth. His name is Hatred. He inhabits the mind and body of the young man that you saw. The young man is not exactly what one would consider “Possessed” as much as he is demonized. He is surrounded and harassed by malevolent spirits constantly, although he doesn’t realize it. Every act of violence he watches on television or commits in some game. Evert curse that comes out of his mouth. Every time he gets high and “empties” his mind…he is opening a door. He sends an invitation for more of the same. It is not evident to most people. They either think that demons don’t exist, or that they have no power. That isn’t true. They have as much power as a person gives them. Their greatest sales tactic is to try to convince people that they don’t exist.

 

Please tell me what you think. Should I continue the story?