Buz

Unlike the previous two stories, Benny and Billy, this story is not based upon any real event, but  upon the premise: all struggles in life are the result of a spiritual battle between good and evil, with the understanding that God always protects His own.

I hope you enjoy reading Buz.

Buz

   Awakening with a start Trace was overcome with a shudder emanating from his very core; he felt somehow…violated. The most blissful sleep he’d had in weeks, no maybe months, or come to think of it, ever, had just been rudely interrupted. Rolling over, he turned a groggy eye toward his cell phone – 4:39 a.m., now wide awake, he groaned, Well, there goes another night down the drain! Tossing and turning in attempt to return to that euphoric state of sleep from which he’d been unceremoniously jerked, Trace finally gave up, threw the covers off with a curse, dragged his legs over the side of the bed, slapped his bare feet onto the wood floor and padded reluctantly into another day; it was 5:14 a.m. - he couldn't shake the sense of violation. It almost felt…unholy.

   Levi harbored no fondness for his minions. They were mere pawns useful only for his purposes - evil as they were - to war against the enemy to whom he’d sworn never to bow his knee. So when the latest offence from one of his minor lap-dogs occurred, he had not a second thought about casting him away to a remote outpost of obscurity. Where never seemed to matter to Levi, but this time it was a sleepy little community tucked away against the coast. He found it odd he’d not been attracted to this little gem long ago due to the fragrance of sulfur bubbling up from the spring in the center of town - Levi loved the smell of sulfur. But that aside, there was no apparent presence of the enemy - virgin territory – and that could play out either way; meaning easy prey, or those dwelling there were the most mind-numbing, uninteresting, prosaic people on earth, apathetic to any intervention.  And in Levi’s world, there was nothing worse than boredom. But this was opportunity and penalty possibly rolled into one. Delicious!

   Levi summoned the little insect into his presence and pronounced the sentence. The look of horror on the offender’s face was almost as satisfying as the sentence itself. The place of exile was always a well-kept secret from ranks of the servile – ever subject to the whims of Levi – until the final judgment. However, Levi, out of his Machiavellian sense of humor, would never relegate more than one offender at a time to these particularly torturous out of the way locations, while simultaneously demoting them to the status of plebe. Oh how Levi loved the power he held over the inhabitants of his world. Wincing in fear, and with a sulfurous poof, the criminal was removed to his place of confinement. Levi laughed, generating the ghastly sulfurous cough – a wicked conundrum - which had plagued him almost longer than he could remember; but remember he did, and it infuriated him. Swearing an eternal vow as he lumbered back to his den hacking and muttering, Feels like I’d cough up a lung! (As if that were even possible). Note to self, he mentally recorded, Find a way to reciprocate.

   Buz opened his eyes to find himself crouching on a precipice overlooking the rocky shore of who-knows-where; his “assignment,” as Levi called it, always attempting a positive spin on his worst edicts, lay below. Even from this vantage point he felt the boredom creeping into his very essence. The command: touch nothing but the dreams of the residents. What fun was there in that! No disease, no death, no destruction. And, he was here until Levi remembered to release him; the nefarious product of Levi’s selective memory, leaving Buz to rot in this tedium for who knows how long. He felt utterly plundered.

   Feeling out of sorts from his commutation Buz took stock of his new condition. Exactly what state did Levi leave me in this time anyway? he wondered, with no way at the moment to fully assess his outcome. Until he knew he must be cautious lest he risk full exposure to…them. Remaining unexposed was key to success. In attempt to transpose himself to a new location but failing to achieve launch, Buz quickly realized he would be living under certain restrictions; he despised Levi’s morbid sense of humor. He never seemed to tire of temporarily diverting his own objectives in order to satisfy his affinity for drama – in his world or theirs. Choosing not to waste further mental effort regarding Levi’s personal conundrum, Buz set off for exploration and surveillance in order to find his subject du jour, while fuming at his prospects for the future. After all, what was the purpose in existing without a game plan? It was getting dark.

   By 10 a.m. Trace was feeling exhausted from yet another night of diminished sleep, and disturbed by the lingering sense he’d awakened to so early in the morning; just one more thing on the pile of troubles which seemed to be his life. He headed to the break room at work hoping to catch a nap on the sofa - as long as Brad hadn’t first laid claim with his massive form, as was his usual M.O. Ah, score! he celebrated, as he slumped into the rolls and valleys of the cushions. Easing his eyelids closed, grateful the others had taken their break on the employee patio, Trace dropped quickly off to sleep after setting the alarm on his phone to vibrate in 15 minutes. With no comprehension of having been asleep, he suddenly awakened, adrenalin rushing, heart pumping, barely able to catch his breath, standing in the doorway of the break room poised to run. Momentarily disoriented, he stood frozen until his senses caught up then, pulling the phone out of his pocket, he checked the time remaining on the alarm – 13 minutes. Incredulous he looked over his shoulder to the clock on the break room wall expecting confirmation that he’d overslept his alarm – 10:05. Two minutes?! I was out for only two minutes? What just happened?

   From his vantage point Buz, the insect that he was, looked down from the upper corner of the break room so excited he nearly lost his grip on the ceiling. I recognize this one! I know him. This is going to be more fun than I anticipated, he mused, reflecting on a past commission. It will come nicely into play, quite useful, considering my restrictions, Buz ruminated, enjoying the recollection. Of all his previous assignments, this form of interaction, though new, was quite intriguing. Uncertain if this was one of Levi’s well-kept secrets or something original he had dreamt up just for him, he didn’t know – the peons aren’t usually privy to the big picture - either way, he was no longer quite as irked with Levi as he’d been. And this with only the most hesitant touch, he twittered, his arthropodal appendages twitching in anticipation. Visions of this being one of Levi’s most insidious methods to date darted across his devious mind. The human psyche is such an interesting playground, and gaining access through their dreams – genius! Buz realized, finding new respect for Levi, And all done without even leaving a trace. At that thought he lost his grip on the ceiling convulsing with laughter, Oh, I kill myself!

   Uttering an abrupt curse, Trace craned his neck around the corner looking into the hall and back to the break room verifying no one had seen what just happened. With a deep breath to calm himself, he thought, It’s just sleep deprivation. Shake it off and move on. Proceeding to get lost in the details of work, he was unaware of the scaly little intruder who was now shadowing his every move reconnoitering for the next event; every move, thought, emotion was being catalogued for future reference. If there was one thing Buz was good at it was stealth – and memory – which was a vast pool of resources just waiting to be tapped whenever and wherever he chose. That pool was paying off, he was beginning to remember more about his past exposure to this one; a serendipitous discovery he hoped Levi had overlooked.

   As Buz reflected he scowled at the one thing his kind found an outrage – omniscience, or actually the lack thereof. There was only One allowed that particular quality. It was an injustice none had overcome – yet. But in the meantime they’d mastered history, using it to their greatest advantage, while usually keeping their prey in the dark; the few setbacks were not to be spoken of among the ranks without risk of personal mayhem. To date no one dared the risk. Buz was thankful his knack for history would prove beneficial once again; evoking a venomous drool of excitement. However, he’d overlooked one small detail back then.

  Away on another plane of awareness, Neariah and Lael simultaneously alerted; senses heightened, swords at the ready, they awaited the call to duty – for they perceived a summons to service would soon arrive. They could feel emanations of the iniquitous pulse even before they knew from where it came. There was no doubt, they would be summoned. And they were ready. Paghaia is at work, they commented in one voice, A special one must be in peril.

   Exhausted and barely able to put one foot in front of the other, work day over and heading for his car, Trace could think of nothing but getting home, crashing on his sofa, and vegging-out the entire weekend. At this point the break room event was nearly forgotten, mostly due to the fog of sleep deprivation, and a strong desire bury it beyond the subconscious; the humiliation and embarrassment never to be made known. Pizza delivery was on speed dial, allowing dinner to be provided with the push of a button, accompanied by the last beer in the frig. The speed of delivery a direct result of having hired Juan, Caesar’s little brother, to mow the lawn. Connections, he congratulated himself, It’s all about connections. Sliding into the driver’s seat of his “vintage” economy car Trace held his breath until the engine turned over with a hearty chug. The drive home was predictable - and short, thankfully. Kicking off his shoes as he entered the living room, sofa in the cross-hairs, cell phone gripped for speed dial, he prepared for an unimpressive weekend. Buz was taking notes, hovering nearby.

   It was no secret that Levi’s intent was full subversion of his enemy’s plan. In his estimation man was a simple being, easily manipulated, which is surely why his enemy chose to interact with them; free-will was not an insurmountable challenge and Levi found muddling the choices heightened his desired effect; insinuating themselves into the subconscious prior to a free-will choice was where the fun really began; the stealth insertion of thoughts, intentions and emotions caused results much more entertaining than outright destruction or death – something those of his world were quite adept at accomplishing. Levi particularly enjoyed teaching his minions the technique he called “cutting the herd”; isolation, whether it be physical or emotional, was a weighty tool in his arsenal of tactics. Once that was accomplished…Well, it was all over but the shoutin’!

   Buz, having learned his lessons well, was not patient - nor were any of his kind for that matter – he wanted to get on with this sacrificial offering, hoping to thwart Levi’s personal muse of casting his condemned into a state of doldrums, while regaining his favor all at the same time. Levi spared no opportunity, he persecuted with impunity, even his own - he couldn’t help himself. However, Buz knew care must be taken. It was walking a fine line when playing the game of mastery against Levi while attempting to redeem oneself. Levi was capable of high praise for a tactic well played but never would condone being made a fool. After all, he had earned his position and ultimately bowed to none – acknowledge, maybe - bow, never!

   Hovering close at hand awaiting the next suitable opportunity, Buz would have made a pest of himself had he been in physical form, exciting as that was it had its definite down side. The invisible realm, even with the imposed current restrictions, was his favorite mode of operation. Levi would occasionally allow the aforementioned distinction, but only at his whim and never without his authority. The hordes were always watching with rapt anticipation awaiting that honor to fall upon one of them. Buz had yet to receive such an honor but was wanting to prove himself worthy. Maybe this would be his opportunity. Salivating a sulfurous froth from the excitement of his next encounter Buz could only wait. And yet…

   Paghaia’s steadfast position was not to be deterred by time or space, aided by Ruah’s faithful companionship; completely obscured his own darkness, Buz was unaware.

   Too tired to care how quickly Caesar arrived Trace aimed himself at the sofa and collapsed, feet draped over the arm at one end, his head resting on the other. Grabbing the TV remote from under last week’s newspaper on the coffee table he applied the point-and-shoot method to arrive at the evening news while resting his eyes. National News Channel’s Cameron Blake was reporting from yet another disaster site following an 8.3 earthquake…somewhere…in…the…

   Buz pounced with lightning speed dipping his spiny fingers into Trace’s subconscious and stirring as if he were wiggling his fingers in the muddy under-waters of a stagnant pond, bringing the sludge swirling to the surface. Trace, sighing heavily, waiting for the knock on the door, relaxed deeper into the calm sensation of floating, relieved at the thought of an entire weekend with no pressures ahead of him. Beginning with pizza, beer and…

   Startled, Trace heard it before he felt it, the deep rumble of an oncoming earthquake; having lived on the west coast he was fully aware of the effects. Bracing himself for the crack followed by the first thrust of the earth, he waited…but nothing - except an increasing roar sounding like the approach of a freight train. Deafening, the roar increased until it reached the grating and shrill pitch of a derailing engine - audibly painful. Trace, hands clasp over his ears, an instinctive attempt to shut out the earsplitting decibels, was helpless as the floor began to lurch under him. The unbearable pain from the din was crushing, he could feel a warm trickle of blood begin to seep between his fingers as his eardrums ruptured. He screamed in agony rolling to the floor with certain death only a millisecond away.

   But then, incomprehensively, rising faintly above the din Trace heard the long familiar voice of his grandmother whispering, Be still, Pedo, and know...

   Stunned by the sound of screams heard from the street as he arrived, Caesar tossed the pizza box, bolted toward the house, up the steps, through the unlocked door, into the living room. There he found Trace writhing on the floor in agony next to the sofa, hands over his ears, screaming hideous death screams unlike anything he’d ever heard before. Terrified by what he was witnessing, Caesar knelt down and grabbed Trace’s shoulders, calling his name, shouting over the screams.

   Shrieking at the touch, Trace cried out, “The train, man, the train! Get out of the way!” At the sound of his own voice his eyes shot open as his hands fell away from his ears. He looked at Caesar, stunned and confused, then at his hands expecting to see blood, there was none. Looking from his hands to the face of Caesar Trace lay unmoving and rigid on the floor, eyes filled with panic as he tried to comprehend the abrupt shift of reality.

   Across the room, watching from the side-lines, Buz was barely able to contain himself with jubilation at his success. What at first seemed to be an extreme restriction he was now finding rather exhilarating. His sinister mind began to whirr double-time with renewed aspirations. He watched as emotions etched their paths across Trace’s face. Ah! Fear, embarrassment, confusion, anxiety, just to catalogue a few, Buz complimented himself, licking his villainous lips in delight. He desired so much more, but for now he must work within his boundaries, experiencing both reverence and disdain for Levi’s ultimate power; the power he and his comrades all aspired to achieve.

   Already plotting his next permeation, Buz observed carefully as Trace recovered his senses. Wonderful things, emotions, Buz reminisced, as he began to recall his previous knowledge of Trace. Ah, it’s all coming back to me now. Childhood, such an impressionable time of life for these creatures. However, I didn’t realize how absolutely delicious the collateral damage would be back then – an investment I didn’t know I was making. Before he could further relish the celebration, Buz felt the unexpected swipe of a sword at his side causing him to double over in pain. He had not seen that coming!

   So swift was the attack, Neariah suddenly found himself on the battleground, sword burning white-hot with virtuous intent, dripping villainous blood - he never seemed to get use to that - all fueled by Paghaia’s powerful and timeless entreaties. However, the exhilaration more than made up for the lack of warning; there were times when no summons was issued – they were just sent. Seeing Lael, his faithful compatriot, positioned at his flank ready with sword poised as if waiting for a pitch, comforted him at times like these; when sending left them momentarily exposed, but never defenseless.

   “Thanks, Lael. You are a faithful defender”, Neariah said. ”Elyon acted quickly once again. This must be another of His prodigals.”

   On either side of Trace, Neariah and Lael adjusted their stance, swords at the ready, armor glistening bright white, looking down on Buz, their fierce and righteous expressions firmly fixed. Buz trembled knowing he was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things according to Levi. His puny little carapace useless, and only a minor pawn, left defenseless and restricted, he prepared for his demise. What I wouldn’t give to let these two goons have a dose of their own medicine! Buz thought self-righteously, not quite ready to give up the fight, his little insect claws quivering with indignant bravado as the swords fell – zzzaaap!

   Levi paused, turning his hideous nostrils to the wind, sniffed in disgust, and thought dismissively, Did I just smell something burning?

Ephesians 6:12-13, 18

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore, take up the full armor of God, so that you will be able to resist in the evil day, and having done everything, to stand firm… with all prayer and petition pray at all times in the Spirit, and with this in view, be on the alert with all perseverance and petition for all the saints.

Copy right 2013 Donna Larsen