Segment 10: The Man in the Truck
Blog DirectorySegment 10: The Man in the Truck I made it appoint to walk behind my brother and sister who walked behind my mother and father under the Georgian crests of the twelve apostles carved into a cement parapet at the roof of our church. My mom came running after me with a pink comb fifteen minutes before I left the house with her and everyone else when she saw me watching a rerun of The Indian in the Cupboard on the tv, cross legged with my black hair still wet,y on the floor of the carpet in front of the entertainment stand. Anyway it was too late to get out the tangles and the only apostle I could see out of the corner of my eye was St. Peter and his outstretched arm was cracked from the rain and through time or from people like me starring at him wishing someone would paint him over the night in black , and make his cracks seem like scars. I sat down next to Kathy who sat down next to Dobson who sat next to my father who sat next to mom, so that I would be at the end of the pew on the aisle able to watch for Sheedy who got dragged here pretty much all the same way on Sundays too. We’d gotten through the first hymn and two psalms read by our minister and the laity and then the chilldren’s minister walked down the front of the steps to ask that the children come forwarded, just as we could here the exterior wooden plank doors opening and its metal clapper knocking to let a family through. They came in around to the left passed the stained glass windows that I hoped the rain would pelt enough to crack through, and Sheedy came in with her arms around each one and her hair tangled too wearing black reboks, tights and a hand-me-down dress I’d seen her wear before, from her sister. She didn’t notice me seeing her at first but when the assistant minister got up from her seat at the altar to light the candles for the offering Sheedy looked around until her eyes fell on me. She took out from a pocket that couldn’t be noticed on her dress , a white envelope that she held up for me to see. And so when it came time for the wooden offering tray to be passed around and down the rows of people she placed the envelope in it and I watched it pass by all the hands of the people putting dimes and quarters, dollars and checks into it until it got to me so that I could pull out the envelope in replacement for the two quarters I’d put in from my change purse. It was time for us to read the hymn now on page 309, As With Gladness Men of Old, and I opened the envelope in the vertebrae of the polished paper of the hymnal and I pulled out a card that was the size pulled from a tarot pack with the painting of Lamia crouced next to a monk with her green tail encircling his legs on the stone steps of a church and pillar. We were on the second verse of the hymn now and I quickly picked up where they were mouthing “ “As with joyful steps they sped, Savior, to Thy lowly bed, There to bend the knee before Thee whom heaven and earth adore, So may we with willing feet Ever seek Thy mercy-seat!” But when we sat down I slipped out the card again in the book and read what was on its back: “The ancient Greeks believed that the Lamia was a vampire who stole little children to drink their blood. She was portrayed as a snake-like creature with a female head and breasts. Usually female, but sometimes referred to as a male or a hermaphrodite. According to legend, she was once a Libyan queen (or princess) who fell in love with Zeus. Zeus' jealous wife Hera deformed her into a monster and murdered their offspring. She also made Lamia unable to close her eyes, so that she couldn't find any rest from the obsessing image of her dead children. When Zeus saw what had be done to Lamia, he felt pity for her and gave his former lover a gift: she could remove her eyes, and then put them on again. This way, though sleepless, she could rest from her misfortune. Lamia envied the other mothers and took her vengeance by stealing their children and devouring them.