Post by Radrook Admin on Aug 15, 2021 12:30:17 GMT -5
Who is my Neighbor?
It was on a cold winter Tuesday evening when the creature suddenly arrived at our church’s door located in the outskirts of Richmond Virginia. We were all reverently singing hymns, when suddenly, there was a loud banging that caused us to stop in the midst of the song: How Great Thou Art, and to turn around.
Naturally, we were extremely surprised. After all, church visitors never knocked, especially not in that rude and loud, desperate manner. Instead, they would just very gently pry the door open and take a seat during services. So the loud pounding was something very unusual, making us hesitate. Finally, when I could bear the tension no longer, I volunteered to go and see what was the matter.
It was nine in the evening, dark and misty outside, so visibility was low. I could barely make out the faint outlines of cars in the church parking-lot and those of the surrounding evergreen trees. All was very silent for a wile, but then I heard some groaning and walked in its direction. I figured that maybe it was some homeless person needing help. After all, they did sometimes show up at the church seemingly out of nowhere seeking help. So I assumed that it was very likely one of them who had banged on our door but was now too weak or else too intoxicated to continue. But then, gradually, as my eyes began to adjust, I saw it, the outline of a large human-like, white-furred creature staring at me from behind the large, green, metal garbage bin.
No, it was not a menacing stare, but one of pain. It was nursing a wounded, bleeding arm tightly with the palm of one furry right hand, and its large, blue, oval eyes, which were barely reflecting the moonlight, seemed to be pleading with me for help. Those pleading eyes were what stopped me from bolting in panic.
“Can I help you?” I forced myself to say, albeit in a trembling, fearful voice.
” Yes! Please!” were the words I heard telepathically.
“Stay there, I’ll be back with the first aid kit” I told it, after barely forcing a friendly smile before turning around and half-stumbling back in. I must have looked extremely spooked since they all stared at me as if I had been an apparition. What made it worse, perhaps, was that I remained silently staring right back at them for maybe a full thirty-seconds.
“What was it?” Father Ubaldini, a short senior citizen of Italian descent, who always reminded me of the actor Sylvester Stallone, finally asked in his New-York accent with an extremely worried look on his wrinkled tan face.
“Oh, just someone who is in need of bandages, painkillers and antiseptics.” I responded struggling to sound and look as normal as possible in order to avoid panic.
“Then why didn’t you bring the visitor inside my son?” he asked, frowning at me as if I had been extremely cruel in not bringing in whomever it was that was injured.
“No Father, this time I think it’s best that we take care of the problem outside!”
“But why son? What is the problem? You go prepare the bandages and other things, and I will go outside and welcome him to our church and usher him in!” Father Ubaldini took a few steps towards the door.
“No! Father, please don’t” I grabbed him firmly by the arm and stopped him from what I believed could possibly cause him a fatal heart attack. He in turn stared at me as if I had committed an unforgivable sin causing me to immediately release my grip.
“Sorry Father, But this is best. Please keep everyone inside until I say it is OK to leave!” I added in the way of an apology for having touched him. For the first time since I had known him, Father Ubaldini, stared at me as if I had been a total stranger, and slowly and cautiously backed away from me and the door. His usual look of casual friendliness was replaced by one of intense suspicion.
“Why? Is he some kind of criminal? Did he just threaten you with violence? What’s going on here, son? You can trust us. We are all brothers and sisters here!” he said in a stern voice that he usually reserved for reprimanding sinful behavior.
“Well Father,” I hesitated a long time before finally saying what I was about to say:
“... you see, it’s not, it’s not a human being that knocked on our door.”
I heard gasps of horror from those in attendance and one elderly sister in the faith, sister Ramirez, immediately dropped backwards into her seat from her standing position with her full 350 pounds. For a moment I regretted having told them, but what else was I supposed to do?
“Not human?” Father Ubaldini uttered while intently staring at me with a horrified look on his face.
“Is it an animal? A feral ape? Only a very large ape could pound on a door in that human way. Has it escaped from the city zoo? If it has, I can get a gun...”
“No father, it isn’t an ape and a gun will not be necessary! Just the medicine and bandages, and I will send it on its way! I promise.” I smiled broadly in the friendliest way I could muster in order to assure him that all would be fine.
“Send It on its way? You just called it an it? Is this thing some kind of materialized demon? Is that what you are saying son? Something supernatural that has chosen on a visitation to our sacred church to put our faith to the test? If so, then let us all kneel in prayer so that God can come to our aid and protect us from Satan’s machinations.” he said with his hands in the traditional steeple position which he always used while delivering his brief Sunday sermons.
I suddenly felt the emotion of urgency infuse my mind and took it as the creature’s way of telling me to hurry.
“Father, it’s bleeding profusely, and if I keep delaying, it might maybe bleed to death. No, it doesn't look like some supernatural evil creature. Just a creature in need of our help. That’s all-Father. ”
There were murmurings and gasps of concern from the churchgoers who began grouping together and staring back at the door in fear.
“Maybe it is something like an extraterrestrial who crashed in the woods?” I said “Or maybe it’s Big Foot? I don’t know Father, but whatever it is, don’t you think that we owe it some compassion?”
He stared at me as if I had blasphemed, but I ignored it and continued.
“It thanked me for offering help, Father, and is now probably wondering why I am taking so long.”
At that moment, there was a high-pitched howl of pain from the creature and a loud thud as if it had suddenly collapsed against the church door. All the church-members suddenly huddled together in a far- off corner behind the priest who was holding up a large wooden crucifix that had yanked from the church wall and was wielding it menacingly towards the door as if it were a weapon that would protect them. When I tried to get to the medicine cabinet, he blocked my way as if I also was some kind of unholy enemy of all that he and Christianity held sacred.
Following his lead, the other church members began glaring at me in horror as they would at some preternatural monster. One brother in the faith, brother Scaralapagus, whom I had known for decades, was holding a metal chair above his head threatening to hurl it at me if I insisted on walking in his direction. Sisters were protectively embracing their kids who were sobbing and whimpering in fear as they sought motherly shelter from approaching harm.
“Shame on you! Shame on all of you!” I shouted. “Christ told us to help our neighbors who are under distress!. We are told to be kind even to our animals! You all know that, and yet you are refusing this creature the help that it needs? Why? Because I said he might be an extraterrestrial? Does he have to be from Earth and human, to deserve our compassion? Who are we to say that God didn’t create other material creatures in his image. Yes! Different in physical appearance only, but still spiritually our equals or maybe even our superiors? Do you really think that our creator wants us to deny such creatures our help in their time of need? Is that what all of you really believe?”
But my words had no effect on any of them as they started slowly backing away from me. There was suddenly another moan of pain from outside, and as I turned to go and help the creature as best as I could, the pastor discarded the crucifix and pointed a gun, given to him by one of the parishioners, in my direction.
“Don’t you dare open that door!” he said holding the gun in a trembling hand. Nothing unclean is to be permitted in the house of the Lord! Not while I am the pastor of this church!”
As I ignored him and continued towards the door, I felt a telepathic surge of great pity for the people who had refused the creature help. It was an emotion brimming with compassion and forgiveness, as if it understood that their human irrationality was involuntary. Then it telepathically recited the words that Jesus had said during the last moments of his crucifixion.
“Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.”
www.storystar.com/story/21049/radrook/fiction/science-fiction-2
Naturally, we were extremely surprised. After all, church visitors never knocked, especially not in that rude and loud, desperate manner. Instead, they would just very gently pry the door open and take a seat during services. So the loud pounding was something very unusual, making us hesitate. Finally, when I could bear the tension no longer, I volunteered to go and see what was the matter.
It was nine in the evening, dark and misty outside, so visibility was low. I could barely make out the faint outlines of cars in the church parking-lot and those of the surrounding evergreen trees. All was very silent for a wile, but then I heard some groaning and walked in its direction. I figured that maybe it was some homeless person needing help. After all, they did sometimes show up at the church seemingly out of nowhere seeking help. So I assumed that it was very likely one of them who had banged on our door but was now too weak or else too intoxicated to continue. But then, gradually, as my eyes began to adjust, I saw it, the outline of a large human-like, white-furred creature staring at me from behind the large, green, metal garbage bin.
No, it was not a menacing stare, but one of pain. It was nursing a wounded, bleeding arm tightly with the palm of one furry right hand, and its large, blue, oval eyes, which were barely reflecting the moonlight, seemed to be pleading with me for help. Those pleading eyes were what stopped me from bolting in panic.
“Can I help you?” I forced myself to say, albeit in a trembling, fearful voice.
” Yes! Please!” were the words I heard telepathically.
“Stay there, I’ll be back with the first aid kit” I told it, after barely forcing a friendly smile before turning around and half-stumbling back in. I must have looked extremely spooked since they all stared at me as if I had been an apparition. What made it worse, perhaps, was that I remained silently staring right back at them for maybe a full thirty-seconds.
“What was it?” Father Ubaldini, a short senior citizen of Italian descent, who always reminded me of the actor Sylvester Stallone, finally asked in his New-York accent with an extremely worried look on his wrinkled tan face.
“Oh, just someone who is in need of bandages, painkillers and antiseptics.” I responded struggling to sound and look as normal as possible in order to avoid panic.
“Then why didn’t you bring the visitor inside my son?” he asked, frowning at me as if I had been extremely cruel in not bringing in whomever it was that was injured.
“No Father, this time I think it’s best that we take care of the problem outside!”
“But why son? What is the problem? You go prepare the bandages and other things, and I will go outside and welcome him to our church and usher him in!” Father Ubaldini took a few steps towards the door.
“No! Father, please don’t” I grabbed him firmly by the arm and stopped him from what I believed could possibly cause him a fatal heart attack. He in turn stared at me as if I had committed an unforgivable sin causing me to immediately release my grip.
“Sorry Father, But this is best. Please keep everyone inside until I say it is OK to leave!” I added in the way of an apology for having touched him. For the first time since I had known him, Father Ubaldini, stared at me as if I had been a total stranger, and slowly and cautiously backed away from me and the door. His usual look of casual friendliness was replaced by one of intense suspicion.
“Why? Is he some kind of criminal? Did he just threaten you with violence? What’s going on here, son? You can trust us. We are all brothers and sisters here!” he said in a stern voice that he usually reserved for reprimanding sinful behavior.
“Well Father,” I hesitated a long time before finally saying what I was about to say:
“... you see, it’s not, it’s not a human being that knocked on our door.”
I heard gasps of horror from those in attendance and one elderly sister in the faith, sister Ramirez, immediately dropped backwards into her seat from her standing position with her full 350 pounds. For a moment I regretted having told them, but what else was I supposed to do?
“Not human?” Father Ubaldini uttered while intently staring at me with a horrified look on his face.
“Is it an animal? A feral ape? Only a very large ape could pound on a door in that human way. Has it escaped from the city zoo? If it has, I can get a gun...”
“No father, it isn’t an ape and a gun will not be necessary! Just the medicine and bandages, and I will send it on its way! I promise.” I smiled broadly in the friendliest way I could muster in order to assure him that all would be fine.
“Send It on its way? You just called it an it? Is this thing some kind of materialized demon? Is that what you are saying son? Something supernatural that has chosen on a visitation to our sacred church to put our faith to the test? If so, then let us all kneel in prayer so that God can come to our aid and protect us from Satan’s machinations.” he said with his hands in the traditional steeple position which he always used while delivering his brief Sunday sermons.
I suddenly felt the emotion of urgency infuse my mind and took it as the creature’s way of telling me to hurry.
“Father, it’s bleeding profusely, and if I keep delaying, it might maybe bleed to death. No, it doesn't look like some supernatural evil creature. Just a creature in need of our help. That’s all-Father. ”
There were murmurings and gasps of concern from the churchgoers who began grouping together and staring back at the door in fear.
“Maybe it is something like an extraterrestrial who crashed in the woods?” I said “Or maybe it’s Big Foot? I don’t know Father, but whatever it is, don’t you think that we owe it some compassion?”
He stared at me as if I had blasphemed, but I ignored it and continued.
“It thanked me for offering help, Father, and is now probably wondering why I am taking so long.”
At that moment, there was a high-pitched howl of pain from the creature and a loud thud as if it had suddenly collapsed against the church door. All the church-members suddenly huddled together in a far- off corner behind the priest who was holding up a large wooden crucifix that had yanked from the church wall and was wielding it menacingly towards the door as if it were a weapon that would protect them. When I tried to get to the medicine cabinet, he blocked my way as if I also was some kind of unholy enemy of all that he and Christianity held sacred.
Following his lead, the other church members began glaring at me in horror as they would at some preternatural monster. One brother in the faith, brother Scaralapagus, whom I had known for decades, was holding a metal chair above his head threatening to hurl it at me if I insisted on walking in his direction. Sisters were protectively embracing their kids who were sobbing and whimpering in fear as they sought motherly shelter from approaching harm.
“Shame on you! Shame on all of you!” I shouted. “Christ told us to help our neighbors who are under distress!. We are told to be kind even to our animals! You all know that, and yet you are refusing this creature the help that it needs? Why? Because I said he might be an extraterrestrial? Does he have to be from Earth and human, to deserve our compassion? Who are we to say that God didn’t create other material creatures in his image. Yes! Different in physical appearance only, but still spiritually our equals or maybe even our superiors? Do you really think that our creator wants us to deny such creatures our help in their time of need? Is that what all of you really believe?”
But my words had no effect on any of them as they started slowly backing away from me. There was suddenly another moan of pain from outside, and as I turned to go and help the creature as best as I could, the pastor discarded the crucifix and pointed a gun, given to him by one of the parishioners, in my direction.
“Don’t you dare open that door!” he said holding the gun in a trembling hand. Nothing unclean is to be permitted in the house of the Lord! Not while I am the pastor of this church!”
As I ignored him and continued towards the door, I felt a telepathic surge of great pity for the people who had refused the creature help. It was an emotion brimming with compassion and forgiveness, as if it understood that their human irrationality was involuntary. Then it telepathically recited the words that Jesus had said during the last moments of his crucifixion.
“Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do.”
www.storystar.com/story/21049/radrook/fiction/science-fiction-2