The Devil, Angels, and Demons

By Patty Lesser

Like most people, Alida has contemplated one of life's biggest mysteries: What happens to your soul when you die? What if it is stolen by a cruel demon, and your eternity's resting place becomes an empty locker in a secret cavern? What if the Biblical hell was a real place, where real people suffered unspeakably?

 

It is real, a

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Distinctive Storytellers
• Release date: Jun 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781777642419

Book preview

Chapter One

It was Saturday—my day of rest, my quiet day, my day to check my lottery ticket. My favourite lottery booth at the Shell gas station wasn’t far, but I always smoked a cigarette as I walked there.

I wasn’t a chain smoker or even a pack-a-day smoker, but I enjoyed smoking for specific reasons, such as hunger, anxiety, or boredom. I smoked now because of nervous excitement.

My cluttered mind spun as I tried not to imagine what it would be like to win the lottery. I was a little superstitious about some things, and I was pretty sure that thinking about winning caused my bad luck, which is why I never won. I attempted to think about other things by focusing on my surroundings.

Cars of every size and type rushed past me on Main Street. Once in a while, a vehicle of interest would come into view: an antique car all fixed up and freshly painted; VW Bugs with their bold colours; big black trucks; and sometimes, you could hear music blaring from an open car window.

As I crossed the road, my old primary school appeared on the left. It still looked the same with its red brick walls and brown metal roof. The circular playground at the back of the school was silent, but I remembered noisy games of Red Rover and Dodgeball.

This street also boasted numerous fast-food restaurants: Harvey’s, Wendy’s, Swiss Chalet, and Tim Horton’s. I didn’t know why this road was so popular with fast-food restaurants, but it was great having them so accessible while growing up.

We would wander down the street and order something different from each restaurant, starting with hamburgers at Harvey’s, then fries and a Frosty from Wendy’s, and ending with a donut at Tim Horton’s.

Sauntering past the sports store, I greeted my reflection in its huge front window, which acted like a mirror on sunny days. I could just detect my brown eyes staring back at me. Most people agreed I looked younger than my thirty-eight years with my long brown hair falling down my back, curling at the ends.

It was apparent from my trim figure that, although I enjoyed food, unwanted fat didn’t attach itself to me. My body could use a workout, but going to a gym was not something I found enjoyable.

At the boundary of the Shell gas station, I dropped my cigarette on the ground and stomped on it. I was aware of the dangers of smoking near gas pumps, which I considered as I walked past them and up to the store’s front glass doors.

As soon as I entered the store, I marched up to Rick, who lived behind the busy counter. He was a pleasant-looking man with shiny black hair and soft brown eyes. He also always had a ready smile on his tanned, kind face. I knew he sported a few tattoos on his arms because he had shown them to me once, but today, they were hidden under the sleeves of a brown wool sweater.

Good morning, Alida, said Rick.

Good morning, Rick. I handed him my lottery ticket, and he immediately walked over to the lottery machine.

Every time Rick checked my ticket, I heard a clamour from the big black machine sounding like the whirring of a printer. And out would pop a piece of paper announcing that my ticket wasn’t a winning ticket, and I had won absolutely nothing, not even a free ticket.

I was prepared for this usual outcome, and so was Rick. He often lamented my losses with me, but he was invariably ready to print out a fresh ticket for the next weekly draw.

As Rick placed my lottery ticket under the little black scanner, I squeezed my fingers against my favourite talisman in my pocket.

My talisman. How funny! I had picked it up while on a trip to Israel: a small oval charm with the Old City of Jerusalem on one side and a quaint saying on the other. I always carried it, hoping it would bring me luck.

I heard the click when Rick pressed the blue button, and unexpectedly, the machine played a handful of tinny musical notes.

Oh, wow! Fantastic! I’d won something, but how much? It’s probably just a free ticket.

Rick passed the slip of paper to me, announcing the amount of money I had won. I was so excited that I trembled. Rick waited patiently as I turned over the small yellow paper and read the sum.

I gawked at the paper. I was in shock. My body shuddered, and my hands quivered.

Read it! I commanded as I passed the paper to him.

Rick gulped then whispered, It says you won twenty million dollars.

Wow! Really? Are you sure? I asked as I jumped up and down.

Rick repeated, Yes, you won twenty million dollars.

My dream had come true. I had finally won the lottery! I didn’t know whether to cry or jump to the ceiling. I was bursting inside. My luck had finally changed.

My brain exploded with images of what could now be possible, and my thoughts raced at a million kilometres per second.

I had won $20 million. I couldn’t believe it. Twenty million dollars. Twenty Million Dollars! I couldn’t fathom how much that really was because I was still in shock.

Since my parents were usually home at this time of day, I resolved to go there first. Their home was an easy walking distance from the gas station. I ran when my thoughts turned toward my now-thrilling prospects, but I slowed my pace when I needed to be reminded I had won.

As I made my way to my parents’ house, I saw a For Sale sign on the front yard of the Michael’s home. I had loved this house since childhood, but I never expected I would ever have enough money to afford such a grand place. And now, I did.

I approached the house ever so slowly. A magnificent, huge white pine grew over the front lawn, and it towered over the black-and-red-speckled shingles.

This gorgeous home was built with honey-coloured bricks similar to homes located in Bath, England, where I had once visited. The bottom level was mostly underground except for a two-door parking garage.

I stood on the sidewalk and peered to the side, noticing the extensive backyard. If I bought this house, I would build a fence around the yard for a dog I could now afford.

I’ve always wanted my own dog. Growing up, we always had a dog in the family home, but since I now lived in an apartment building, I felt I shouldn’t get a dog until I had a backyard.

While I stared at my dream home, I could almost hear it whisper to me. I strained to hear what it said. Had I not known better, I could have sworn the house was calling to me to buy it.

After some hesitation, I continued to my parents’ home. Their white-panelled, two-storey house rested at the end of a residential street. I walked into the house, and as usual, my father was sitting in the living room in his favourite recliner, reading The Economist.

Hi, Dad, I said. Don’t move. I have something important to tell you and Mom.

Hello, Alida, he replied, but he didn’t appear especially happy, probably because I rarely had any good news. His balding head looked like he just got a haircut. Dad was adamant about trimming what was left of his hair every few weeks.

As I climbed the stairs to track down my mother, I found Lucy, my parents’ golden retriever, asleep in her large, comfortable bed at the top of the stairs.

Rubbing her head, I said, Hello, Lucy. How’s my favourite dog?

As I patted her, her wagging tail thumped on the carpet. I noticed my mother folding laundry in the master bedroom. I begged her to come downstairs because I had something to announce.

Can it wait a few minutes? My mother asked.

It’s good news. Really good news, I said. Can you please come downstairs?

I’ll be down in a minute. Her tone made it clear the discussion was over.

As I turned to go downstairs, I prodded Lucy. Come on, girl. Let’s go outside?

Lucy happily bounded ahead of me into the backyard, where I lit a cigarette. I patted, hugged, and kissed Lucy while we frolicked in the grass until she abandoned me to chase a squirrel.

Lucy was a gorgeous, orangey-red golden retriever. My parents had adopted her from a breeder who bred Lucy twice. She planned on breeding her again, but because the other dogs in the kennel dominated her, the breeder thought it would be best if Lucy were placed in a home where she was the only dog and could have someone’s full attention. In my parents’ house, Lucy blossomed into a spirited and friendly companion.

By the time I finished my cigarette, Mom was downstairs, so I manoeuvred them onto the brown couch in the living room.

Okay, now that I have you both here, there’s something I want you to see. I handed them the small yellow lottery paper.

Mom grabbed it first. What’s this?

Read it. I was bursting.

Twenty million dollars. That’s what it says. Unimpressed, Mom passed it to my father.

I dropped my arms onto the arm rests. Dad, can you see that?

Yes, I can see that. Dad was impatient.

That’s how much I’ve won! I threw my arms into the air.

What do you mean, that’s how much you’ve won? Mom

grilled me.

I’ve won the lottery. I was just at the gas station where I checked my ticket. I’ve won twenty million dollars!

But this isn’t the money. Dad said, looking puzzled.

No. I have to go to Toronto to claim it. On Monday, I’ll go to the lottery office and get my cheque. I’ll travel by bus unless one of you would drive me?

I can’t believe you won this much money. Mom was her usual disbelieving self, so disbelieving in fact, that she agreed to drive me. It was in part because she was worried that, when I discovered I hadn’t won the twenty million, I would be so upset that she would have to console me.

Our residential city of Hamilton was about an hour’s drive from Toronto, but the traffic could cause major delays. We decided not to leave until ten in the morning to avoid the rush-hour traffic.

A few minutes later, I left my parents’ house feeling sombre instead of joyful. How could they not believe me? I began to doubt myself.

Attempting to shake off this dispirited sensation, I headed back to my apartment building, but suddenly, I had the eerie feeling that I was being yanked by the arm toward the Michael’s house. I halted in front of it.

I stood transfixed on the cement sidewalk for a few minutes until I nervously climbed the exterior white stone stairs. A beautiful and obviously ancient wooden plaque hung beside the natural brown wooden doors. It read:

I send an angel before thee,

to keep thee in thy way,

to bring thee into the place,

I have prepared for you.

I wondered where these cryptic and unique words came from. I lifted the elaborate brass doorknob, shaped like praying hands, and knocked on the front door.

A few moments later, Mrs. Michael opened the heavy door and stood before me with an expectant look on her gentle face.

I spoke first. I don’t know if you remember me, but I grew up in this neighbourhood. My parents still live on the street.

I wasn’t sure if she remembered me or not, but she nodded and beckoned me inside. I gladly complied and looked around surreptitiously.

When I strode into the expansive hallway, my gaze was drawn upwards. In the ceiling, a sizable glass skylight bathed me in sunlight. What a wonderful way to be welcomed! I removed my blue running shoes and left them beside the door.

The serene Mrs. Michael, dressed in a cream silk blouse and grey skirt, led me into her spacious and sumptuously decorated living room where amazing works of art covered the walls. The paintings employed bright colours and conveyed images of informal gatherings between vivacious people. Several pieces of extravagant white leather furniture were also attractively placed around the expansive room.

I noticed the vast stone fireplace, which I was sure would bathe the entire house in warmth during the cold winter months.

As etiquette would demand, Mrs. Michael offered me something to drink, which I politely declined.

I gathered my courage, took a deep breath, and said, I noticed your house is up for sale. I’d like to buy it.

Mrs. Michael smiled. You’re the first person to express an interest. I’ll gladly give you the number of my real estate agent, and you can deal with him. I’m sure everything will be fine.

She sounded so sure the house would be mine. I was surprised because she had more faith in me than my parents. All I had to do was hand over the money? I couldn’t believe my luck.

After a brief tour of the interior, Mrs. Michael steered me to the front door. We shook hands and said our goodbyes. I sensed a wave of kind and genuine warmth from her.

My walk home was slow as I cycled from my hopeful excitement of mania to dark depression. My feet weighed a ton, and my breathing was laboured. I noticed nothing because there was nothing to see.

I felt like I could curl up into a ball and cry. I wished someone would appear to drive me home, or that I could flag down the next car that passed me.

When I dragged myself into my apartment, I only wanted to watch a DVD and disappear. I didn’t want to think about today. I was too upset.

But how could I not think about today? Was I a fool? Was Mrs. Michael humouring me? Were my parents humouring me? Rick had said I’d won. He should know. But had I really won? I looked at the lottery slip again.

Yes, there it was in bold letters: $20,000,000.

I decided to put it out of my mind until Monday.

Chapter Two

Monday finally arrived, and my mother picked me up in her

blue Ford Focus. As usual, she was late.

While my mother drove, we sat in silence, each with our own thoughts. Luckily, the traffic wasn’t too heavy on the usually busy highway, and we entered downtown Toronto an hour later. We crawled along Bloor Street, searching for the elusive green metal sign that read PARKING LOT, which we soon found.

As my mother pulled into the parking structure, she grumbled about the lot’s high prices.

I reminded her, I’m going to be rich soon. I’ll pay for the parking.

Mom just grunted as she turned into an empty parking spot and turned off the engine.

We found the anticipated office building and took the elevator to the Provincial Lottery Office, which spilled over the entire seventh floor. As soon as we exited the shiny elevator, an attractive receptionist wearing a tight blue dress greeted us from behind a marble counter. Good morning. How can I help you?

After I showed her my winning ticket, she requested we have a seat. Then, she picked up the phone and called someone.

Mom didn’t hide her frown.

A few minutes later, a tall, well-dressed gentleman in a dark-blue suit introduced himself as Anthony. He ushered us into his office, which was furnished with a black cherry wood desk, matching bookcases, and two black leather chairs.

He requested the lottery ticket, which he compared to a paper on his desk. Congratulations, Alida! You’ve won twenty million dollars.

My mother’s jaw dropped. She finally believed it. I gave her the I told you so look.

We require some identification, Anthony continued. I noticed you have signed and written your address on the back of the ticket. Excellent.

I have my Canadian passport and my driver’s licence. Do you need anything else? I asked, trying to contain my excitement.

No, that should be sufficient. I’ll have some coffee brought to you. Your cheque will be ready in a few minutes.

Suddenly, my mother and I were alone, but neither of us said a word. We just sat there. I didn’t know what to think. I had twenty million dollars. I was free, but I wondered what my mother was thinking.

A nicely dressed woman in a grey suit brought us some coffee. My mother had a few sips that finally thawed her tongue.

You really won. I can’t believe it. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, but it’s just hard to believe you at times. We’ll have to call Dad and let him know.

We can definitely call Dad. I considered telling her about the Michael’s house, but then thought it might be best to wait a little while longer. I’ll take her out to lunch and tell her then.

Have you given any thought to what you’ll do with the money? my mother asked as if reading my thoughts.

My parents always worried about my spending habits because when I was manic, I was bound to go on shopping sprees. But I had done well over the past few years. living well within my means, although I attributed that to my stable emotional state.

After taking a sip of coffee, I said, I’m not going to spend much of it now. I’d like to pay off a few friends’ debts and donate some to several charities. I have some ideas I’ll tell you about over lunch, but I’ll give the bulk of the money to Dad to invest.

Anthony returned with my cheque and handed it to me with a big grin on his face. I inspected every piece of writing on it, and then I passed it to my mother for her to examine.

Anthony interrupted our thoughts when he said, We have a television crew ready to film you with the cheque to be shown on the evening news.

Once mom and I stood up, Anthony continued, I’ll take you over to our lottery set. We need you to hold the cheque in front of you in such a way that your address is not visible. This will only take a few minutes. Do you have any questions?

No. I had seen this segment shown during the news, so I knew what to expect.

We were escorted to the television set with the large lottery logo in the background. Someone positioned me on a mark while someone else took a light reading. Then, the first person came back and helped me position the cheque. As I looked up, I sought out my mother, and I thought she looked proud of me.

The entire filming only took a few seconds. When someone shouted, Action, I stood on my mark and held up my cheque while smiling from ear to ear until someone shouted, Cut.

Suddenly, everyone moved. I was the centre of attention for one minute, and then I was completely ignored. Finally, Anthony came over and reunited me with my mother. He then escorted us to the elevator, where we shook hands and said goodbye.

Mom and I found ourselves walking west along Bloor Street, searching for a mutually agreeable restaurant. We could have eaten anywhere, but we decided upon something simple.

We found a small restaurant serving only soups, sandwiches, and salads. Their menu was written on the back wall, giving the place a rustic feel. We both chose a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich on brown bread with mushroom soup.

After receiving our food, we sat at a small table, and Mom asked, How are you feeling?

Great, but I’ll feel better when the cheque is in the bank. Will you drive me there when we get back? I was slowly floating down from the clouds.

Sure. Is there anything else you want to do?

Nothing today, but there is a subject I would like to broach. Have you noticed that the Michael house is up for sale?

Yes. Mom looked like she was about to choke.

I want to buy it. When I left your house Saturday, Mrs. Michael gave me a tour.

Why do you want to buy that house? Why don’t you look around a bit? You have the choice of any house now.

Thinking back to when I stood on the sidewalk in front of it, I said, I’m drawn to it.

Mom put down her spoon. It’s too big for you, Alida. You’ll get lost in there all by yourself.

Mom, it’s my dream house. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve wanted to live in that house. And now I can make my dream come true.

I don’t want you to rush into anything. My mother’s concern seemed genuine.

I’m not rushing into anything. I’ve always loved that house. I’m sure about this. Did I sound confident? I bit into the second half of my sandwich.

We finished our pleasant lunch without discussing it further, and then we drove back to Hamilton.

As soon as I was in my apartment, I phoned a residential building inspector. He agreed to meet me at the Michael’s house the next day.

I called Mrs. Michael and told her I was making an offer. Would tomorrow be an acceptable day to bring the building inspector? It was.

The next call was made to the Michael’s real estate agent, and I made the offer. Finally, I called my real estate lawyer and made an appointment for Wednesday to sign the papers.

On Tuesday, as I arrived at the Michael’s home, I watched my mother stroll up from the opposite direction. She had asked to see the inside, so I invited her to come along with the building inspector. When she reached me, we stayed on the sidewalk a few moments, staring at the house.

Mom had to ask, Are you sure it’s not too big for you?

I ignored her.

A few minutes later, the inspector arrived. We toured the house’s exterior to check the foundation and the lovely brick walls before he pulled out a ladder and climbed onto the roof.

Upon completion of the outdoor inspection, we knocked on the front door. Mrs. Michael allowed us in, and the inspector checked the basement first, where he examined the wiring, the pipes, and the interior walls. Then he moved upstairs and wandered all over the house.

After the inspection was completed, the inspector provided a basic rundown.

You’ll get my full report by Monday, but for the purposes of putting in an offer, my advice is the roof will only last another few years, but the rest of the house is in good working order.

I thanked him for his time and thoroughness. After he left, I found my mother in the basement, standing at the base of the massive fireplace.

If two people crouched down, they could easily fit inside. Mom admired the gorgeous cream stonework. The chimney rose into the second floor, where it was open, allowing the fire’s heat to pour into the living room. Vents also led into the bedrooms.

We reviewed the spacious basement and discussed where I could best position my old furniture. The polished cedar walls reminded me of a cottage, relaxing my mind because I loved a cottage’s simple freshness.

A four-foot-high wooden bar resided against the far wall, and I envisioned inviting friends over for a drink. A nice-sized bedroom with light-beige walls was off the main room. It would easily hold a double bed, dresser, and chairs, which would be a good place for friends to stay.

I also found a pantry where I could store all my dry goods like toilet paper, Kleenex, and paper towels. Then we investigated the laundry room. Mrs. Michael was leaving behind the washing machine and dryer, and they appeared to be in good working order.

Next, we climbed the beige carpeted stairs to the main floor. Mom and I spent some time touring the rest of the spacious house. She was in awe of the enormous master bedroom with its en-suite bathroom. She admired the fireplace again, and I showed her the open vents.

We discussed the possibilities. The ample kitchen was one of the best rooms in the house. A marble counter island with a cutting board and gas stove was built in the centre of the room with plenty of counter space. The rest of the kitchen held more than enough room for a Sub-Zero refrigerator, a Wolfe built-in oven, and a Bosch dishwasher.

Just past the kitchen lay the second bathroom, and behind this bathroom were two smaller bedrooms, where we stopped for a minute.

Mom sat down on the bed and pressed her hand on the mattress to check its firmness. It’s a beautiful home, but it’s much too large for just one person.

Is that your only problem with it?

It’s bigger than our house, Mom continued. What are you going to do with all this space?

I’m going to spread out. I’ve always lived in cramped apartments, so I’m looking forward to having lots of room. I also want to get a dog.

"You shouldn’t be thinking about a dog until you’re settled. Are you really sure