Faith is a Waiting Room

“My name is John and I’m an alcoholic.” I hate saying that, but Doctor Albright says it is all part of my therapy.

So here I am, John Sherman, sitting in a wobbly wooden chair, looking around at a circle of people who all want to be somewhere else.

Albright says I “must face up to things, in order to move on.” It’s a pity he doesn’t live up to his name. Maybe the good doctor isn’t all that bright after all.

So here I sit, staring at the wall, and nodding when it seems appropriate. Finally the counsellor stands up, signalling the end of the meeting.

My head thumps as I walk home. None of them have any idea of the truth. They have what they read in books and newspapers, and see on TV, or are told by their various religions. But that isn’t the truth, not the real truth. I’ve seen the real truth, I know. They told me to spread the good word.

You would think me crazy if I said the TV talks to me… but it does.

It’s not what you might think, though. I’m not having a little conversation with the newsreader or latest action hero.

It’s hidden messages. They are everywhere, right there in plain sight; almost everyone sees them every day. All you have to do is notice. Notice, and then try to understand. Join the dots, connect the clues and the truth shall be revealed.

My life got so much better once I saw the truth.

Once you see the truth you can understand and hear the voice. Oh, yes, I hear voices. The bright doctor says I’m bi-polar, that means schizophrenic, I think. He says it’s a psychosis. He spouts lots of closed-minded techno babble. He can’t see the truth that I see. He dulls his mind with too many books, books filled with the words of men; my words come direct from a higher source. Only the truly deserving can hear the call, and have the chance of deliverance.

They will be sending a sine soon. The deserving will be given a chance to join in the light, to unite with the makers in their everlasting search for the ultimate universal truth. You can only understand if you believe and are judged worthy. You have to truly believe before you can hear their voices.

The one true voice is everywhere, all the time. You just have to know it’s real before you can hear it. They told me it’s always been done that way. Most people know there has to be something else to life. Every dull day draws into the next, waiting for that one big-break that never comes, and all the tomorrows turn to yesterdays. You get older and there is no point, unless you discover the real reason for being here. That reason is the opportunity to evolve.

My front door looms up at me before I realise it. My feet know the way, and my head is free to dwell on higher things. I live in a simple bed-sit. I don’t need much in this world. A waiting room only needs a chair to rest on and a door to depart from.

So I wait. The TV burbles on, background noise, waiting to receive the next message.

Then it comes, during a car commercial.

The truth is simple. The truth is real and everlasting and cannot be redefined by men.

I understand how it will be done now. They will be leaving soon, and I must hurry if I’m to leave with them. They showed me how it will work. I’ll be taken in a beam of light, snatched from right under people’s noses and they won’t even know. That’s the way it has always been done. The unbelievers, the unworthy will just see the obvious. It’s no use trying to explain. They can never know the truths that I know. They haven’t been chosen. They can’t let the truth and the light into their hearts and minds.

I look down at my worn clothes, wrapped round my worn body. I have to change first; I can’t go in this old thing, got to look smart to be smart.

The top drawer of my bedside cabinet rattles as I shake it until it slides open. My dress trousers lay neatly pressed and folded, the smell of my crisp new shirt fills the air as I slip it over my shoulders. I pull on my best jacket and stride towards the door, grabbing my overcoat as I go. No, I won’t need that. I won’t be out in the cold long enough.

I’m done with this small planet, and its small thinking. It’s time to go.

So, here I am standing in the middle of Main Street.

I shiver as the rain runs down my body, mauled by hundreds of icy teeth, but that doesn’t matter. My time is coming; I can see the light approach, just a glimmer in the distance.

You need faith before you can see the truth of things and I can see the truth speeding along Main Street, ready to energise me, to free me from the material world.

It’s almost here; the light is close.

They will never understand. They will say I was insane. They will say it was suicide by truck. They will be wrong.

They will see this body cast aside and think it’s me. Some may even rush to its aid; most will just stand and gawp. But I won’t be there. I will be in the light, living on the ether, soaring through the heavens.

I am in the lights, they shine forever.


Garry Grierson lives in the Kingdom of Fife in Scotland. His days are spent as a computer programmer for the Police, his nights are taken up with reading, writing, and programming games on consoles from the eighties. Oh, and I'm not a geek, honest.