Simon chase is just like you. There is only one difference...he is both angel...and demon.
|My name is Simon Chase.
I’m nothing special. I’m fifteen years old and I like to watch movies. Movies have always helped me escape the horrors of life. My favorite is Braveheart with Mel Gibson. It’s wonderful. Most people say it’s how Scotland won its freedom from England. I say, it’s about how a man loved a woman so much that when she was taken away, he went to war with the ones responsible.
I live in a small farming town called New Boston. It’s known for its apple orchards and its Apple festival that happens at the beginning of October every year. My town is on the east side of Michigan. If you look at your right hand, palm up and run your finger down the side of your thumb until you get to just about an inch above your wrist you’ll know where New Boston is. There are eight buildings in town and four of them are bars.
I’m home schooled. It’s not all bad except for the fact that I don’t have any friends and I’m by myself most of the time. I don’t get out much because my mom says that people can’t handle my condition.
I don’t look different from you. I walk and talk just like you. I like the same movies and listen to the same music. I play video games like everyone else my age.
Here is the difference.
Once a month my mother cleans out the small storage room in the basement of our house. She puts all of the Christmas decorations and old toys I used to play with in the far corner of the basement. When this is all finished, she takes me to the room where I have to strip off all of my clothes and stand in the center of the room with my arms and legs out to the side. She then takes chains that are attached to the wall and locks both arms and both legs so I can only move an inch or so. Then she will kiss me on the forehead and she will say;
“Simon, this is to keep you safe, right?”
She then says, “I love you and I will never let anything happen to you.”
“I know mom.”
Tears fill her eyes and she goes to the door and asks if I want the light on. I tell her ‘no’ then she leaves locking the door behind her.
And there I stay for one whole week.
What’s my condition? Well no one is aware that I even have one except for my mother… and my father before he died. When I start to show symptoms I get removed from whatever it is I’m doing at the time and placed in seclusion.
My father died when I was three years old. His throat was slit with the lid from a can of tomato soup while he was sleeping on the couch. My mother was devastated.
I never knew or even heard of a woman who loved her husband more than my mother. My father’s name was Gill. When he was a kid his friends would call him “gill-o-teen”. I believe they felt they were being funny. My parents met on a blind date. Some old friends of theirs set them up to meet at the Apple Festival. My dad was pretty reserved, but Mom said that once you got to know him he was very funny and would do anything for someone in need. Not just a friend or family member, but anyone.
My mom tells me that they met beside an elephant ear vendor at the festival. She said that he was the handsomest man she has ever met. She said saying “most handsome” didn’t quite cover the magnitude of his good looks. He was very polite and through the entire date he wore a mustache of cherry pie filling and tried pulling it off like he didn’t know it was there. She smiled the entire time. Mom told me the reason he did this was to prove to her that he would do anything to make her happy, no matter how stupid he thought it was.
Mom said he didn’t even flinch when she told him that she had adopted a baby when she was nineteen. He said “Not a problem. It’s just another part of you that I can love.” And with that they were married. Married for three years.
I am told that the origin of my existence is rather difficult to explain. When my mother found me I was wrapped in an extremely old baby blanket that was frayed and dirty, but smelled like a breeze on the ocean. She came home from her shift at Maryanne’s Diner and there I was in the middle of her porch in a picnic basket with a small note that read: "Praise ye Him, all His angels: praise ye Him, all His hosts... for He spoke and they were made. He commanded and they were created..." "And the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent, called the Devil, and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him." She looked around to see if anyone was watching and when no one was, she took me in her house.
I barely cried and I slept through the night without complaint. I was a strong eater and was walking by eight months and saying two and three word sentences at ten months. By the time I was one and a half I could read at a second grade level. When I reached two and a half I could do multiplication and read books that were meant for fifth graders. My mother and father knew I was special, but had no idea as to how special I really was.
I was taken to a preschool to be tested to see exactly where my IQ was at. The teacher was suffering from a serious headache when we arrived and said she was sorry, but had to cancel the appointment. My parents weren’t happy, but they agreed. However, when the teacher touched my hand to say goodbye she stood up straight and blinked a few times. She shook her head and began rubbing her temples when a smile crossed her face. I looked at her, smiled back and then went to the toy area and began to play with an old Operation game. My mother and father exchanged looks and that teacher cancelled her cancellation of the meeting.
Once my parents took me to a church fundraiser and all of the little old ladies from the congregation fell in love with me. They all said when I was around I made them feel like they were twenty years younger and they each felt happier than they have for years. Even the preacher said his heart was smiling now after being sad for so long after losing his wife to cancer.
I was now an avid church attendee. All of the church said that when they were around me they understood their relationship with God all the more. They felt kinder and were able to act on that kindness without fear. A woman by the name of Agnes Gould said if she didn’t know better she would’ve said that I was an Angel.
That got my mom thinking. I was never hurt and I never got sick. Whenever I was around, people were friendlier than they normally were. Then my mom found the note that was attached to my blanket when she found me. Was I a gift from the Lord? All children are gifts from the Lord, but did God’s hand actually create me? She had no idea who my blood parents were, so why couldn’t I be directly from God’s hand? Ever since that day my mom felt I was literally a gift from God.
She knew that I was an Angel.
She was only half right….
I turned three on April 23rd and on April 28th I slit my father’s throat.