In Search of: Priest/Ghost/Policewoman

A Story by Abishai100

Fictional portrait of spiritual 'uneasiness' and fright for an Earth-man requiring a priest, shields, and some cop-afterlife jellyfish.

A ghost-story with evangelism proportion (fiction).

----

====

I was living happily in a suburbia-town (Echelon) in Homeland-Jersey and crossed-paths with a vigilant policewoman (Danica) who made 'mark' of me as a walking vagrant type and wondered why I was fishing in a dumpster in a neighborhood near mine. I had explained I was looking for thrown-away furniture (or relics!) to make home sculptures with, but she never believed me and continued to track me, as I'd been taking walks every Saturday AM. My name's Amlan Satan, and this is a very stranger type of ghost-story. Follow along, friends (Facebook-like!).

PRIEST: Your claim the dead-ghost of this stalking cop-girl is quite dark!
AMLAN: Thanx, Father...for believing me...she was a living/stalking cop first.
PRIEST: You say you saw on television she was bloody-murdered, in your town?
AMLAN: She was killed while serving (on-duty); some burglary-thing (arms).
PRIEST: Now, she's returned from the other-side of mortality...to haunt you.
AMLAN: That's what I say, Father...look, I know it's crazy; she thought me bad.
PRIEST: You claim you were looking for art-things in a neighborhood dumpster?
AMLAN: She started stalking me, made me suspect-feel...now she's a demon.
PRIEST: Goodness...sounds as if you need therapy for art's weight or exorcism!
AMLAN: I need some kind of spirit-shield, Father...this ghost-cop feels...evil.
PRIEST: I can help you...we'll walk the streets of your town...together, son.
AMLAN: In the daylight, or with night-vision (ha)?

This ghost-cop woman frightened the living-daylights out of me (now!). Well, the kindly/guiding Catholic priest I 'recruited' for dire-straits assistance and sprit-shield, from my town-area church (Father Endymion) proved to be of a great-value of aid for strength/honor. In deeds, he warded-off the lurking and haunting spirit of the fallen policewoman, resurrected to make my life a walking eeriness. She (likely) still believed me a vagrant-type; and when my Father used evangelical/exorcist 'method' for declaration of my person/soul as a 'thinking-jar' soul of Earth...she vanished (out of sight). Boy, this was Facebook-like.

I visited the grave-site of that very-same policewoman one Summer and whispered my prayer(s)...and I knew then that this was a tale to be told/kept...and it was 'linked' to my deep-consciousness for my (private) art-life in deeds (ha). Maybe this is simply a story about the 'incomplete-darkness' for all things of the Jabberwocky (Selfie-like).