A QUIET PLACE ~ EQUESTRIA GIRLS

PAX. C.S.P.B.

C.S.S.M.L.—N.D.S.M.D.

V.R.S.N.S.M.V.—S.M.Q.L.I.V.B.

Day 11

Obstetricate (ob-stet-rih-kate): to serve the function of a midwife during labor. Deemed archaic, or obsolete.

Another nightmare last night. Playing back the same moment but with a few twists and changes every time. Having to cover my little brother’s ears and turn his face to my chest, I watch our parents getting sliced to pieces. I see the thing come up to us with a cackle. The clicks it makes almost sound like it’s mocking me. Then its shrieks turn to sadistic laughter, like its saving me for sport.

“Next time,” it said.

Then it leaves. I’m practically screaming at it to come back and finish the job, before opening my eyes to see Fr. Redmane with a hand over my mouth.

He brought me into the confessional’s thick walls to talk about it before Mass. He suggested I spend extra time alone in the Church before the hospital trip.

My parents were Constance Joy and Solemn Reginald Sheen. I also had four siblings. Their names are Felix Dawn, Serenity Dusk, then twins Prudence Karen and Credence Kevin. They’re all dead.

That’s more for my benefit than anything else, really. I keep having the same questions in my head. Like nails, pikes and thorns jammed deep into my skull. Why them? How wasn’t I quick enough to help at least one of them? How come I’m still alive? What greater good can possibly come from all this? There’s no rhyme or reason for this senseless violence, pain and destruction. It’s nothingness, but that’s what also makes it powerful. Like a black hole sucking me into itself from inside myself. All I can do is lay it all bare at my LORD’s feet, at the altar of His Cross.

I’m not saying I’m a dualist, nor having a split personality. Just because you see someone talking aloud to himself or herself, doesn’t make it schizophrenia by default. And it’s not like I didn’t have dark thoughts and demons assaulting me until that day. I’m just presenting the fact that there’s two parts of the same whole in myself. I’m hurting, fallen, wounded, scared and just as much capable of depraved, corrupt misuse of me free will as everybody else. And I’m sure there are other parts of my whole being I’m not fully aware of that also need care and healing.

Long before those things crashed down, lots of people have been looking for answers; a scapegoat, something or someone to blame. Some means to take swift action for a quick fix, or a reset switch to flip and solve all the world’s problems. Little do we realize that we bring all our own problems into the mix, buried under a genuine wish for a fresh start. Not just past traumas or wrongs done to us, but our own flaws and temptations that stem from something deeper than any physical influence. Though, that can definitely be a part of it.

There’s an even worse enemy than what those things can do. One that can - and has taken its toll on our human existence. One that we cannot see, hear, smell, or touch, yet at the same time even more real than flesh and bone. Those alien sound hunters are just obstetricating more rotten fruit for the evil one’s self-imploding, repetitive schemes. I need to be careful not to obstetricate more corruption from within. Just like everybody else.

I know I can’t do this on my own. But like it says in the Philippians, I just need to trust in Godly Rescue for my strength. Only then can I do all that He wants me to do. Like everyone else, I need to ask Him for ~~peace~~Serenity in matters beyond my control, courage to face challenges I can help with, and the Wisdom to tell the difference.