HADASSAH'S WATCHMAN TRILOGY: FIRST CRY Book 1 & Book 2 (An Awakening)

Hadassah's Watchman

PROLOGUE

Isaiah 62:6 I have set watchmen upon thy walls, O Jerusalem, which shall never hold their peace day nor night: ye that make mention of the LORD, keep not silence,

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There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them. They themselves are equally pleased by both errors, and hail a materialist and a magician with the same delight.

--C.S. Lewis

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The desperation imprinted on her face was almost tangible, projecting her pain directly into my heart. Her ebony eyes almost penetrated the door on which her gaze fixated. Tears glistened and slithered like a snake down her porcelain cheeks. Not even for a second did her gaze shift from the door, even after it had banged with a finalizing slam. The only movement from her that offered proof that she was not just a beautiful, tragic statue, was the hand she lifted to her still flaming cheek. It flared red, with a distinct imprint of another's enormous hand. No, it was not the first time he had left a mark, his mark on her, but it seemed at least that it would be the last. Of course this gave her no consolation, she would have taken any pain inflicted by him because in her heart she so illogically loved him, her very worth was defined by him.

Her window displayed all of this, her apartment was on the first floor directly across from the park I often frequented. She had no curtains to hinder my view, her life played out before me as a horrid movie for which I longed to end happily. I sighed, wondering if today would be the day I could step forward and intervene. The enemy had stormed, ravaged and shattered her soul enough, it was broken now beyond repair. Her faith had once been able to move mountains, if she so desired, the purity of it had been like a child's. But now, she couldn't even pick herself up, and she dared not implore heaven for shame weighed down each weak attempt.

Johan had promised her much, but gave her nothing but debilitating doubt.

"I'm leaving you." he had said. Just like that, no explanation. Her heart's demise had taken less then a few seconds. Having said his piece, he turned his back and left her to reel from shock. Everything had been given and sacrificed for him, including friends, job, faith, all of it, and now she was nothing but and empty vessel.

Having been her silent neighbor I knew it had been inevitable that it would all crumble. This dark haired beauty had compromised and now she found herself alone, with no reason to go on. But she was wrong, I would always be here, I've always been close by, and God-willing I would help her find her way back. I determined this pearl would not be one to be tossed to the swine.

This day the sun shone deceptively as if all was right in the world. It had begun as a perfect day to sit in the park and absorb each word of my book, and of course observe. Always, patiently I would observe, knowing the time to act would come. Still, I had my doubts of the outcome. Reluctantly I set aside my copy of Jerusalem's Undead Trilogy, the world in the book completely captivating me. I wondered if the author, Eric Wilson realized how eerily accurate the world he had created was to this world we lived in.

I sighed, as if sighing could lift my burdens. When desperation as paramount as this filled another human being, every inch of me felt it. It was a curse, or was it a blessing--feeling each cutting emotion as if it was my own. But it didn't end there, if it did perhaps I could bear it with more ease, but my eyes had perfect vision, so much so that I saw what most humans were completely blind and ignorant of.

My heart picked up its pace at what was unfolding in her apartment. I could see her rummaging through her drawers, looking, looking but thank God her search turned up empty. Even so she became more and more weak as each second ticked by as her zeal for life became non-existent. She had already listened and opened her sweet soul to the Dark Ones and their persistent voices, believing them with a fearful completeness. The pills she had already ingested were beginning to take effect, and still I could not intervene.