Journal Entry 39

The old women returned tonight. I heard her rocking so I opened my eyes to see who was visiting me. Her eyes lie concealed behind her thick dark bifocals. She looked so frail as if at any time her sagging skin would dissolve from the skeleton in which it barely clung to. She began to speak as if to give me answers to questions I have yet to ask. She said, in a matter of fact way, that they are all related. I asked who was all related. She said the demons were all brothers. They were born of the father. The wind picked up and began to make a noise that sounded like howling. I began to ask what she meant by born of the father but she was gone. The chair was still rocking as if she was still seated upon it but had become transparent.