Seaside Redemption

John Norton loved the peace and quiet of his palatial home on the bayside of 94th Street in Ocean City, Maryland.

After a busy day filling prescriptions at Atlantic General Hospital in Berlin, Maryland he often would drive to his retreat at the beach and sit down to a dinner of medium rare steak and a glass of wine from Windmill Creek. Afterwards, he would continue reading his latest James Paterson crime novel while relaxing on the comfortable wicker chair on his patio.

On most nights, this would lull him into a deep sleep there, or if he managed to drag himself inside, on the comfortable sectional in his expansive living room. If he woke himself up in time he would brush his teeth, wash his face and crawl into his soft and warm king-sized bed.

The nightly routine had become anything but normal during the last week. It seemed that every time he opened the French doors that previously led to the patio, he found himself staring at a mysterious field that seemed to have materialized out of nowhere and stretched for miles in each direction.

Most of the time, John just closed the doors and quietly shuffled into his bed, thinking the wine had played tricks on his brain or the novel he read had taken over his psyche. Every morning, though, his thoughts did more than replay nightmares about a few confrontations with customers at work and some unreasonable demands by his overbearing supervisor.

Deep within his mind he also mulled over the dilemma he soon expected to face about his top secret, dangerous and highly illegal avocation. Outside working hours the so-called pharmacist did far more than fill prescriptions over the counter.

Back to his most immediate concern. He had finally decided to confront the apparition outside his back door, not realizing how this would bring his nightmares to life.

One morning, before he left for the office he threw open the doors and walked onto the field. After surveying the area for a few seconds, he found himself picked up and transported at top speed into a cold and dark cave on the far end of his backyard. The only source of light came from a ray of illumination glowing from the ceiling near the back wall. A strong force lifted his body up and carried him toward the beam. The light shone on a large book on top on a stone shelf. He stood in front of a volume open to Page 666.

Scrawled in blood red ink across the page: “You have committed many acts that go against human law and violate the trust of your employer. Satan, our leader, considers these infractions very minor. Yet they only touch the tip of the iceberg. You also have secretly conducted an illicit opiate merchandising operation right under the noses of your pharmacy supervisors for a number of years. Because this enterprise has yielded many followers for him, the Evil One has not interfered or demanded his cut of the action. The new converts to his cause and the profits from this enterprise have not kept up with his expectations and it has come time to ‘pay the piper.’”

Then a brilliant red light replaced the beacon radiating from the center of the ceiling.

A figure on a red throne surrounded by flames descended to the cave’s floor.

Words echoed from the throne throughout the chamber: “We have chosen this field as our method to grab your attention and disguise our true purpose. Our operation, up to now conducted in a realm not of the earth, has become visible only to you and to each new recruit as we prepare to bring them on board. We will lure more and more people into this staging area and transport them from here to hell, where they will continue to do our bidding or face the burning fires for all eternity.

“You can save yourself from becoming the next victim by taking a few simple actions. You only need to sell us your soul and pledge eternal allegiance to Satan. If you follow the leader's bidding we will return you to your life as an ordinary pharmacist and free you from your opiate addiction. Our team will return to the underground and we will again operate hidden from the eyes of your fellow humans while we prepare to harvest their souls.”

As John contemplated his increasingly small list of options, a loud noise erupted in the cave and a voice bellowed from a brilliant cloud above a larger opening that crashed open from the opposite side of the cave:

“Begone Satan. I represent the Army of the Righteous. Your limited power over this poor mortal has ended. You have tempted him and caused him to walk away from the correct path for too long. I gave him free will, which he, unfortunately, used to make the horrible choice to allow drugs that serve only the Evil One to poison those who reside on the earth. Many have come under this spell unaware that they have become victims.

"On a positive note, this has given me more insight into the war you continue on the world’s inhabitants and the harvesting of their souls for your terrible cause. I will put an immediate end to this conflict. I already have forgiven John’s offenses and I will restore his reputation while reversing the destruction your actions have reaped. You will not possess him or his fellow humans you tempt on this field. The time of your domination over humankind ends now.”

With that, the ground shook and the field disappeared, restoring John’s patio to its original form. He slept peacefully every night as his nightmares stopped. He did serve a term in prison, but the authorities reduced his sentence because he agreed to help law enforcement take down the remaining members of the opiate-pushing ring. He reflected on what he had learned from his experience, that a humble life well-lived is worth far more than false promises and imitations of reality purchased through the suffering of others.