Sailing aboard the Pneuma (Part Seven II)

I awoke to the sound of trundling trolley wheels and the clatter of plates and cutlery. Evidently, it was breakfast time. There was much chatter and the clinking of china. The entire ward was abuzz. Predictably, Shekinah was in the epicentre of the activities. He was serving food, giving hugs and high-fives, all the while conducting a conversation with the tall woman who had appeared the night before.

Suddenly, I became self-consciously aware that I was still in bed. As I got up to spare myself being thought lazy the waterfall voice laughed across the room, “See, I told you there was such a thing as resurrection”. Laughter rippled around the room and even the tall woman was smiling in my direction. Finally she spoke, saving me further embarrassment, “Go out the door, and turn left, and then go through the second door on the right”.

Once safely in the bathroom I could consider the events of the past twenty-four hours. That place was in the thick fog that I had seen on the horizon. I deduced. For the first time since waking, I looked for a window to spy out the day. To my dismay, the foggy darkness of the night before was still very much in evidence. Had I woken so early that the sun was yet to rise? I bathed and the rest then made my way towards the ward.

Shekinah intercepted me in the corridor. “It is time for us to be on our way. Go and say your goodbyes. I’ll be waiting outside.” I could not work out if our sudden departure was a sign good things or not. He did not seem to be troubled; in fact, His demeanour was very matter of fact. I walked into the ward and the faces of the patients and their turned towards me. “I have to say goodbye, I would really have liked to have got to know you all better. Farewell friends.”

A small voice reached out from the bed furthest from me, “Thank you for sleeping here with us, it was good that you felt comfortable here. Can we pray for you before you go?” “Of course.” I responded, somewhat shamefully, as I had not proposed the idea myself. Suddenly the beds emptied and the patients of various ages and conditions gathered around me. Many hands reached out followed by the offered prayer. I did not understand the language but the tone of the voices was joyful, hopeful, and even confident.

Once outside, I found my companion sitting on a low wall dividing the hospital property from the road. Above him was a rather dim streetlight. As he sat there, he could have been anybody. He was looking down the street towards the docks and his long hair was gently moving in the wind. “Are you done?” he asked without looking in my direction. “Ok, now for one final task before we ...” He did not finish the sentence.

He rose from the wall as if propelled by an unseen force and was three or four paces ahead before I took a step. His brisk strides took him away from the docks; I followed wondering what the hurry was. We walked up the road for two blocks then took two right turns and arrived at a property that was surely directly behind the hospital. Questions arose in my mind, but I felt that was no time for questions.

The street was dark, no lights whatsoever. The vague outline of a squat building brooding in the inky night appeared. For the first time on this adventure, I felt real fear arising within. My stomach knotted and my mouth dried. Shekinah approached the front door with a determined gait. I felt that waiting for him outside was not an option. As I got next to my companion, he looked me in the eye, smiled, and said, “Well done, this we will now do together”. The idea that I was to be directly involved in whatever lay inside did not fill me with anything approaching confidence.

The door swung open as if responding to our presence. The air within was stale and heavy with menace.

The interior was very old but not lived in by anything human. A whiney wind blew around the empty foyer and down the corridors that went left and right. A scurrying noise, like that made by rodents, was discernable among the shadows. Shekinah stood motionless in the centre of the floor. I hovered, none too bravely, by the still open door. He gestured for me to come to his side. I moved reluctantly to him and had to suppress the desire to grasp his hand. The door, as if freed from my presence, closed with a creak and a thump.

We stood in that heavy silence with just the whine of an unearthly wind and that wretched scurrying sound.

I wanted to speak, I even opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I looked at Shekinah, he had a determined look, and his jaw seemed set like stone. Even in that musty darkness, his eyes shone as if subtly lit from within.

A sound of movement came from the left hand corridor. It was a darker shadow than those among which it moved. It had life, it moved independently of anything else. It moved with purpose, yet it had no visually discernable shape. Shekinah’s frame tensed, mine wilted. I am sure he shifted his feet as if to brace himself against some onslaught. My heart accelerated and thundered like the great steam trains as they rocketed through the countryside.

The darkness rushed at us like a lion upon helpless prey. Its gale force breath threatened to blow us over, its deathly stench to asphyxiate us. Shekinah spoke, “Stop”. He did not shout his voice was as it always was - royal, rich, rushing water. Our adversary halted, the wind died instantaneously. What appeared to be its face, I say this only because there were three holes like eyes and a mouth, stared down at us, swaying like a snake charmer’s cobra. The atmosphere hummed with restrained power.

“Your time here is over. The people have called upon Him who is beyond the seas, He has answered, and I am His decree. Now go, you are on private property, you are a trespasser, and your presence is unlawful, go!”

From the shadow came a scream, such as I never wish to hear again. It was a fusion of fear and fury. The building shook as one dislodged from its very foundations and light invaded the foyer. Bright, pure light. It was all too much, I sprinted for the door, which opened, again, of its own accord and bolted for the outside. The brown black mist lifted away from the ground in spiralling columns. The house seemed to empty itself of darkness as the shrieks of torment continued.

Then silence and bright, reassuring light flooded the street and then the entire town.

Shekinah appeared in the doorway. He brushed himself off as if to free himself of the dust of combat. He ran his hands through his hair and sat down on a small bench just to the right of the door. He took a deep breath, looked up at me, and said nonchalantly, “Shall we get some breakfast?”

Sailing aboard the Pneuma (Part Seven)

“We will make landfall by sunset”, came a voice from the upper deck. The day had been warm and calm, yet there had been something very different about the horizon. Instead of its usual inviting clarity, there seemed to be a thick fog hanging in the distance. It never got any closer but remained shackled to the edge of the world.

Everything on board remained normal. The men carried on with their tasks, talking and laughing as they did so. From time-to-time, there was a little tomfoolery as the crew joked and tussled with one another. Shekinah held his post and surveyed the scene before him like a benevolent father watching his children play around him.

I could not help feeling a little apprehensive about our announced arrival in port later that day. For the first time on this voyage I did not have an excited anticipation but rather a sense that all was not as it had so far been. While all the experiences thus far had been exciting, positive, and enthralling, what lay ahead this time was anticipated with something not far short of foreboding.

On every other occasion I had remained on deck to view the land we were about to visit. That day, all I wanted to do was go below decks and wait out the visit in the safety of the bowels of the ship. I made my way to the stairway that led down from the deck. As I descended, I saw Shekinah waiting for me on the landing. “It is not the same, is it?” he asked without requiring an answer. I wanted to get past him to my quarters, as I knew any answer I might give would be a pathetic attempt at dodging going ashore. The words flowed anyway, “Why is this day so different? As the evening approaches I just have a growing desire not to be here anymore.” I felt I had insulted him. I was sure that he was thinking that as long as things were pleasurable, exciting and rewarding I was quite happy, anything else and I was not quite as keen.

The warmth of his character permeated his response. “No one likes the unpleasant and everyone would like to avoid the challenging unknown.” His response was as welcome as it was unexpected. Surely, I thought, he never felt as I currently did. “More than once.”

I felt his hand upon my shoulder, firm, but gentle. He gave an affectionate squeeze and said, “I know this place, stay with me and you will be just fine”.

The harbour was dark save a few torchlights burning vigorously against the wall that ran alongside the quay. The flames of those torches seemed to duel with a wind seemingly intent on blowing them out. The wind here was completely different to the breeze I had grown used to on the voyage. This breath was wild and unrestrained. It seemed vindictive as if it wanted to cause damage and pain. Evidence that it had been successful was readily in evidence once one was ashore. There was a fallen tree just outside the dockyard gates and further up the dimly lit street I could make out fallen branches. The roofs of the nearby houses also seemed to be shy a tile or two.

The Pneuma lay at the quayside bathed in her own light. At that moment, I noticed that there was no source for that illumination; it just existed. The quay itself was slippery underfoot as if rarely cleaned. In fact, in some places, it was as slippery under foot as are regularly submerged rocks at the seaside that have algae and seaweed growing upon them.

The windswept street that began at the gates led away into the darkness. There was no evidence of any life in the dimly illuminated thoroughfare other than the sound of some angry voices emanating from one or two of the nearby houses.

As I made for the street, I remembered Shekinah’s words, “I know this place, stay with me, and you will be just fine”. Suddenly, I felt no desire to proceed without him.

We walked briskly up the street. As we did, the shadows retreated just enough for me to see where we might be going. His stride was long and strong. The houses that flanked the street on either side had their curtains drawn allowing only silhouettes of life to escape. The wind howled malevolently around the rusty lampposts and through the branches that remained attached to their trunks. A gate creaked back and forth, in what seemed a vain attempt to close itself.

Eventually, we arrived at a large and imposing building that loomed up out of the shadows. It was set further back from the street than the houses on either side of it. A traveller hunched against the cold attempting to duck the biting wind may have easily missed the presence of this structure. It had an impressive entranceway with huge double doors flanked by stone lions and a huge wooden eagle hovering over the entranceway. The door handles were fashioned in the shape of doves at rest. Shekinah turned the handle and we entered a foyer that was every bit as warmly illuminated as the Pneuma. All foreboding fell away. He looked at me as he turned away to proceed inwards, I am sure I caught him smiling.

A tall woman with strong but attractive features walked over to us. Her greeting was polite but not without genuine warmth. Nothing about her demeanour was overstated. Back home I would have considered her genuine and dedicated to her task, whatever that was.

She gestured for us to follow her. We entered, to my dismay, shock, and perhaps horror, a hospital ward. There were ten beds in the ward, each one occupied. Some, it appeared, had broken limbs, others were ill with complaints that were not immediately obvious. Three nurses attended each bed. Somehow, they did not crowd each other, but seemed to glide in a choreographed flow of service and care.

Like a child, I found myself tugging at Shekinah’s sleeve. He turned to me smiling, “yes, what’s up?” My immediate thought sarcastically repeated his question, “what’s up? What do you think; this place is full of sick and injured people. Such should not be the case where you are.” As far as I could remember, my questions were unspoken, but he answered just the same. “Why should there be no hospitals where I am? My being does not preclude the possibility of trouble or suffering. What trouble and suffering do guarantee is that I will be there where they manifest.”

He moved swiftly from bed to bed, yet his quickness of movement did not detract from the quality of fellowship he had with each patient, if that makes any sense. He left each bed with its occupant glowing and the three in attendance positively beaming.

He walked back over to where I had remained rooted. “”We will sleep here tonight.” I waited for us to be ushered from the ward to our quarters. My wait was in vain. Sensing my disquiet Shekinah said, “We will sleep here with our friends. The tall woman returned with four men carrying two beds.

(to be continued).