My parents laughed when I said I was afraid of the dark. In one sense they were correct. It was not exactly the dark that had frightened me; it was the creatures contained therein, the restless spirits, the lonely ghosts and the prospect of a visit from God.  

I knew that God sometimes made nighttime visitations. One Sunday, on my weekly outing to the Baptist Church with my grandmother, I learned about the child Samuel, who mistook God's call for that of his father, Eli. I didn't want any personal dealings with God, but neither had Samuel. I was seven years old and the minister's threatening sermons, illustrated by his waving arms and stamping feet made a big impression on me. I was a good little girl, not so much for fear of punishment, but simply because it had not yet occurred to me to be anything else. The Devil did not figure prominently in my thoughts; but God was always there, especially at night, in bed.  

The old house was dark and creaky, my bedroom on the third floor. Sleep comes easily to good little girls, unless they have wild imaginations. It was a long way down to the living room; there were two flights of stairs and my quiet voice never seemed to pierce the adult laughter. I made fervent little breathy prayers. "Our Father which art in heaven. Please don't talk to me. I'll be good. Please, please, don't thank me or anything. I know it's not polite to be scared of you. But, I really am. Amen."  

I didn't like to shout. The sound of my own voice echoing down the stairs brought its own terror. Sometimes, in desperation, I would scream for my parents. They always came. They would laugh and pretend to search for scary monsters under my bed and in the closet.  

"You see, darling," they would say. "There's nothing there."  

I didn't tell them that it was of the good God that I was afraid. After all, if my father in heaven, and his gentle Jesus, couldn't calm my fears, how could they? In the middle of one night I thought I heard my parents call.    

"Yes," I said. "What do you want?"  

There was no answer. I cuddled into my blankets. Until once again, they called my name. 

"I'm coming," I said trundling down the stairs to their bedroom. They were surprised. They had not called me, they said. They had been asleep. And then I knew. It had been God! 

I shivered from head to toe.  

"Come on, honeybunch," my father said. "It was only a dream. Don't catch cold. Everything's all right now."  

I walked back upstairs, stifling little sobs, as my father hovered protectively behind. He sat at the side of my bed, this gentle sensitive man, who never went to church, explaining the compassion of his God, who had created the trees, the lakes and the sunshine. I tried to sleep. But when my father tiptoed away, my eyes snapped open and I was left to face my own reality.  

Author's Biography

Brenda Ross was born and raised in England. After her marriage she spent five years in West Africa before she and her late husband moved to British Columbia, Canada, where she worked as a Community Librarian for many years. 

Her book "On The Other Hand," subtitled, "The inner conflict of an opinionated freelance writer," is published by White Mountain Publications. 

Her stories and articles have recently appeared in Kudzu Monthly, Seven Seas Magazine, Thoughtcafe, Rainy Day Corner and Wynterblues Thunder. In May 2002, she won 1st prize in the Dorsal contest at Doorknobs and Bodypaint. 

In November 2002, her novel "The Silver Arrow" was issued as an e-book by Wt~E-books

More of her work can be found at her Web sites: Shaking the Kaleidosope and Rosie and Me.

E-mail Brenda at brerfox@dowco.com

Essay Reviews!

Want to read some? Or write some? Great! 
We need your input!

Site Reviews!

We'd like to know from our readers if they enjoy Seven Seas Magazine! Do you have praise or complaints? Suggestions or ideas? 
Would you like to read reviews by other readers? 
Please check out our Site Reviews Page

Get notified!

Would you like to get notified as soon as new Seven Seas issues are published on the Web?
Get notified!

Tell a friend!

Do you enjoy the Seven Seas site? 
Please tell a friend to stop by!
Tell a friend!

Go back to the the table of contents
 of the current issue.

You just read essay # 4.  Read essay #

1   2    3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12   13   14