Voice from the Latrine
Nov 27, 2022 19:56:38 GMT -5
Post by Radrook Admin on Nov 27, 2022 19:56:38 GMT -5
Voice from the Latrine
by
Radrook
by
Radrook
The New England farmer, a tall, pale, lanky, middle-aged fellow and his only teenaged son Joey who strongly resembled him, had lived a rather uneventful life on the farm ever since the Farmer's wife, and the kid’s mother’s death. Day after day, with no break in the routine of milking the cows, gathering the eggs, tending to the pigs etc. had gone by until the day of the voice from the latrine.
“Help me! Please, help me!”
It was a deep voice pleading from within the outhouse pit. At first, the farmer thought it his imagination due to his lack of sleep. But as he began walking away, the voice became louder and more desperate. So he began to worry that someone, perhaps some drifter, or other homeless person, had used the Latrine, perhaps had fainted from hunger or illness, and fallen in.
So after, fetching a flashlight, and a rope, he and his teenaged son Joey, went to take a closer look. The stench of the outhouse was almost unbearable, and getting human excrement all over his body wasn’t such a pleasant idea. But leaving someone trapped there wasn't an option. After all, that would be tantamount to murder via negligence.
But most importantly, the farmer knew that it was his Christian duty to render anyone assistance regardless of the inconvenience. If not, then why was he attending church regularly? Why was he always praying fervently for God’s blessings on his food at dinnertime, and for the assurance of a good crop at bedtime? Why was he constantly striving to set a Christian example for his son?
Once inside the Latrine, the farmer lit and hung two gas lanterns from the clothing hooks on the walls, removed the metal latrine hole-cover, and focused the beam of his flashlight light down. After the scattering of flies, only the brown slimy surface of the excrement reflected the light back no matter where he aimed the beam.
“Well son, I guess it was all just our imagination,”
“I don’t think so dad.” his son responded nervously eyeing the hole.
“ We both heard it as clear as day. Some deep voice pleading for help.”
“The mind plays tricks on us that way some times son.”
“On both? At the same time, dad?”
The farmer knew that his son’s question was valid, and that he couldn’t come up with a good answer, so he just remained silent as he continued to probe the Latrine to make sure nobody was trapped there. But if someone was, why didn’t he crie out as before? It just didn’t make any sense, no matter how he tried to reason it all out.
“Well, we can’t just stand here all night shining lights down and staring at a shit-hole!” the father finally said, and his son nodded his head in agreement. With that, they both headed back towards the farmhouse at a brisk pace. After all, there were dark thunderclouds forming on the evening sunset’s horizon, and that meant that soon, a downpour would start. In fact they could smell it in the ozone laded air. As if to confirm their conclusions a distant forking of lightning momentarily lit the sky and thunderclaps began growing louder. At this, they broke into a run and barely reached the farmhouse before the downpour began. But not before they once more heard a deep-voiced call from the Latrine:
“Please! Let me out!”
The stopped in their tracks, looked back and for a moment hesitated. Yet, knowing for sure that there was only intestinal waste there, they decided to ignore it, eat dinner, watch some TV, and finally go to bed as usual. Unfortunately, that was more easily said than done. Sleep that night didn’t come easily as it usually did for either of them. Both kept waking up after having fitful dreams, going to their bedroom windows to look out across the wet, pasture towards the outhouse, and wondering what the hell was going on.
At daybreak the thunderstorm had ceased. Still exhausted, neither spoke very much as they began preparing themselves to go to church. Hurriedly they ate breakfast, hitched the mare to the buggy, and were soon traveling at a good pace down the narrow dirt road. Both averted their eyes from the outhouse. Yet, they could have sworn that before they had traveled a quarter of a mile, they had heard the same pleading for help as before.
The farmer momentarily halted the buggy and both stared at each other and then back at the Latrine. Shook their heads in frustration, and then continued on towards the small church located on a low grassy hill two miles away.
Despite their haste, they had arrived late, and the, pastor, a tall, skinny, white-bearded Pentecostal minister, of extremely pale complexion, was already delivering his sermon to the few in attendance.
As usual, it was focused on human sin, and the retribution that would be meted out to sinners who stubbornly and unrepentantly practiced it. Then, suddenly the pastor went silent, and after staring at both the farmer and his son, he began citing scripture from Revelation.
“Satan and his demons are also soon to be punished for their sins. The Bible tells us that they will all be confined to the pit, or an abyss for a thousand years and then finally destroyed for their disrespect of our heavenly Father and almighty God.”
After the meeting was over, the farmer took the matter of the voice from the Latrine to the pastor.
“It happened yesterday evening and just before we started on our way to church” he said while sitting in the pastor's private office.
“Are you suggesting that there is a demon being punished by being submerged into your Latrine, brother?” the pastor suddenly asked while frowning.
The farmer hesitated before answering. He didn’t know exactly how the pastor was going to respond, and his son had stifled a giggle at the suggestion, and he didn’t want to be ridiculed or furiously sermoned in front of him.
“I’m not saying anything pastor. All I am saying is that there is a voice pleading for help from inside our Latrine hole. Nothing more. My son here can tell you that I am telling the truth, since we both heard it clear as day. Isn't that right Joey?”
“No! No! Brother! You are misunderstanding me.” the pastor said leaning back in his wicker rocking chair and shaking his bald head.
I am not asking you because of disbelief. I am asking you because the same thing happened to me many years ago and the Lord God revealed revealed it to me after I asked in fervent prayer for an explanation. Just like you, I was confused. But then the lord told me that a demon was being restricted to a Latrine for a period of seven days for having blasphemed. So this is your second day?
“Yes it is. "
"Then you can expect the calls for help to vanish within five more. You can either use wax ear-plugs or else just simply ignore it as you poop and recite Bible verses as I did.” he said as a broad malicious smile spread across his full-bearded face, followed by a sudden mischievous twinkle in his green, eagle-like eyes which caused the farmer and his son to flinch in surprise. Having mistaken their reaction for fear of being harmed by the demon, the pastor continued:
“It can’t harm you,” he whispered, as if it had been some sacred secret that he had vowed to never reveal, but was revealing it anyway.
“It isn’t allowed to,” he added struggling not to burst out laughing at the thought.
With that knowledge and reassurance, the farmer and his son returned home in peace knowing full-well that nobody worthy of rescue was trapped down there, and that they were perfectly safe. They also decided to stop attending church until the pastor was replaced by someone less prone to laugh with such fervent glee at the thought of someone's suffering, regardless of whom that someone might be.