All I Have Not Seen

I sensed their presence long before their shape. The fine hairs on the nape of my neck raised in rhythm matching awareness each time my attention cycled left, then right, around the room. A gentle chill traipsed down my spine, light as softest fingers tapped pianissimo upon a keyboard fair.

I squinted into the openness of this most ordinary of living spaces. There an overstuffed armchair, here a lamp…night stand piled with books, alarm and cough drops meant to ease my scratchy throat. Was that a shadow by the bed I hadn’t seen before?

No, nothing there – it must be my imagination playing tricks. The night-time decongestant meant to render restful sleep had started on its work. My eyelids fell despite best efforts to remain awake.

Nights were the worst. Well into the third week of latest bout with winter germs, causing symptoms from congestion to laryngitis, my weariness had hit the hopeless phase. Would I ever be back to talking in a normal voice or finding it simple to swallow and clear my throat without the gravelly, stop-motion that followed this sickness track? The constant cough did nothing but aggravate the tender tissue needing rest.

Nudged from slumber, brief as it must have been, by tiniest of impulse, I dragged myself to consciousness again. There – on the seat of my puffy, paisley chair – was some…thing. Not quite as human formed, but close enough, and breathing heavy into now confining space. And there, another twinning shape appeared behind the first and then a third, this one hanging from the ceiling fan fixture near directly overhead.

I watched, transfixed in awful stupor, as the creature seated on the chair rose up in floating motion to approach the beside. Silent screams lodged fast in parched and swollen vocal chords. No impulse overcame my need to utter cries for help.

And then, a sense of peaceful calm replaced my dread. The second shape, and third, reformed themselves to flank the first as if to join in meeting me en masse. Appendages, ephemeral as wisps of smoke, formed briefly in outreach toward my body. Once, then twice, and then a third time, each encircled the area of my throat. Honeyed pressure – sweetness with opacity to invade – impressed itself on my mind. I sensed, rather than heard, their message for me.

“We are healers - come in response to your need. Accept this gift to calm your mind and body.”

                                                         ~~~~~

Morning light poured brightly into the room when next I woke. An instant brought realization my voice was back to normal. I cleared my throat and laughed with glee, breaking into ‘Hallelujah’ chorus, just because I could!

Who or what these beings were– or even from where they hailed, remains mystery. Figments of imagination, angels of good fortune, or new and alien life form travelled to earth to fix a fallen race?

All that I have seen has taught me to believe in all I have not seen. Merchants of Mercy I’ve dubbed them – these healers who came in time of need.