Where are my Pants?

By: Father Thyme

Writing Prompt: No

Date: 21st Aug 2021

———–20 years ago——–

There is a bed, a toilet, and a sink inside a 6 by 8 foot jail cell. The walls are bare except for one single picture of a young boy in what looks to be holding a teddy bear. The man in the cell is sitting on the edge of the bed with his head down and his hands clasped. After mumbling some words, he takes of the orange top of his state issued jumpsuit and begins to rip it. His chest is slim and pale, track marks on his arms suggest a history of drug use. Once the shirt has doubled in length, he ties one end to the bar of the window that sits about 5 foot high in the cell. He ties the other end around his neck and ensures that it is tight. With bends his legs and holds them with his hands, the makeshift noose starts to tighten and restricts air flow to his brain, he begins to slowly pass out. Before he completely passes out, he hears a voice.


“You have to stop being your own worst enemy.”


————- Thursday Evening———————————


The Pelham Bay neighborhood on the upper east side of the Bronx is a are hardworking quiet residential area that borders New York City’s largest park (Pelham Bay Park). The people that live there middle class Americans who enjoy staying in on the weeknights and backyard barbecues on the weekends. The crime rate is much lower than the other neighborhoods in the Bronx, and people who live in the area genuinely feel safe. But there a house at the end of cul de sac, that has been giving people issues for years. Legend has it that the house is haunted. Even the few homeless people in the area have refused to squat there.


There is a story about a young homeless couple who tried to spend the night in the home, they woke up the following morning with cuts and bruises and were laying on the ground underneath the dead tree in the front yard.


Another story if we are to believe, is that the house used to be a safe house for the Italian Mafia, and that there are bodies buried underneath and within the walls of the home.


Another legend is that the home belonged to a young Italian couple in the 60s. The husband went off to fight in the Vietnam War. When he came back home he found his wife with another man, filled with rage he killed them and himself.


Needless to say the house has been a hard sell for potential inhabitants of the Pelham Bay neighborhood.


The sun is setting as Father Thyme stands at the curb and looks at the other houses around, “it is an eyesore, but not anything that can’t be fixed”, he thinks to himself. There is no wind but the for sale or rent sign is swaying to and fro. Father Thyme reads the words on the sign aloud, “Two Little Steps- Real Estate. For Sale.”


Thyme walks up the porch and there are 2 tiny steps that lead up to the front door. The real estate agent he connected with the other day told him that a key would be placed underneath the welcome mat. Thyme retrieves it and fumbles with the lock before opening the door.


“Lord, I have total faith and trust in you. I know that when one door closes, another one opens. I was unsuccessful in my lone match in the OCW. I was unable to secure enough money to clear our debt with the Deville company. But you have lead me here Lord to New York, and you have helped me achieve much success. I’ll be squaring off again soon Lord, but this time against 5 other individuals. It reminds me of the story Bible of Daniel when he was in the Lion’s den. He had no fear Lord, for you protected him like you will protect me.”


Thyme closes the door behind him, immediately he hears some sort of song softly playing. There is a set stairs on the left side of the front door that leads up to the 2nd floors, straight down the hall Thyme can see a door that leads to the kitchen, to the left of that is another door that leads to the living room. The floor boards creak with every step that he takes, like a symphony of sad cats swooning in the middle of the cat.

Thyme approaches the door and looks in the living room area . He is surprised that unlike it’s outer appearance, the house is inside of the well kept. The furniture looks as if he’s been transported back to the 70s. Thyme flicks the light switch but no lights turn on. Thyme whips out his phone and uses the flashlight function. A bright orange L shaped is set in the middle of the room. There are giant canvasses that adorn the walls. Thyme shines his light on on of the paintings. It’s a horrible painting of what appears to be a tiger, only it’s black with orange stripes. Some sort of inverted colored tiger beast. The song playing in the distance appears to to getting louder.


“With the Lord as my shield, no Beast of light or Darkness can defeat me. The Lord has given me strength to defeat everyone that stands in my way. You are the power father and you are the glory. Your will is my will. And I will turn this wretched place into another house of the Lord. People used to fear stepping foot into this wretched place, but soon this will be a place for worship Lord. We will praise your name and rejoice in love and happiness. My opponents are all welcome to share in the love. I have no quarrel with Sebastian Apollo Hardin. He seems to be a nice loving family man. He seems to be a man of honor. But he is a big man Lord, a Goliath of a man. I wish him no harm Father, but he stands in the way of your word. If he must fall, I pray that he falls gently.”


Thyme hears the sound of rats scurrying and noises coming from the kitchen area. He heads in the direction of the kitchen. Just like the living room, the kitchen is clean and spotless. Thyme flips the light switch in this room and surprisingly it turns on. An old Frigidaire refrigerator hums, as Thyme opens the door and finds it bare except for a carton of milk. He checks the date- “8-22-21”.
“the real estate guy must have left it here.” he thinks to himself. Thyme , feeling a little thirsty and in need of calcium, takes a swig of the milk. It leaves a white thick mustache on his lips.


“Lord, as I prepare to do this battle against women and men please know that I intend them no permanent harm. Little Michelle Moore. She is just so cute. I feel bad that I may have to wrap my hands around her throat and squeeze the living daylights out of her. I will try my best father to avoid her and Lisa Marie Ashton at all cost. But if it comes down to it,” Thyme’s voice changes, ” I WILL KILL THOSE BITCHES.”


Thyme can hear the floor boards creaking upstairs and some shuffling of feet. He makes his way through the hall and up the stairs. The music gets louder with every step.


Thyme looks for a light switch, but can not find one in the dark. He starts to follow his ears andtowards the music coming from the last room at the end of hall. Thyme places his hand on the know and turns it slowly. The music begins to pierce through his eardrums, causing him to get a ringing sensation. He feels hands pushing him into the room, he hears the door slam. Suddenly the music stops. In the darkness he hears his own voice coming from all directions in the room.


“You’re nothing. You’re just a coward.”


“You are a loser. God doesn’t love you.”


“Welcome to hell, this is where you belong.”


“Just fucking kill yourself.”


These words are familiar to him, these are things he told himself many years before he let God into his heart.


The silhouettes start to manifest themselves into human form. A figure that resembles Michelle Moore kicks him, another that resembles Lisa Marie Aston smacks him across the face. The Tiger from painting pounces on him and begins to gnaw away at his chest. He pushes the Tiger off and finds a scruffy looking homeless looking guy uses his fingers and pulls an imaginary trigger. “Bam.Bam.Bam.” There are no bullets but Thyme can feels them penetrating his skin. A fat skeleton drops down from the ceiling and stares at him. It’s as if the skeleton is looking into his soul. He is surrounded now by all the silhouettes. Thyme drops to his knees and begins to pray.


“Father, I am not worthy of your protection, but I beg of you please help me. You are the only way to righteousness, I see now that you have placed these demons in my path to test my faith. I believe Father. I believe that you are the only way. I believe that you will give me the strength to defeat any mortal that comes before me. I will walk along the path of the Holy one, and I will be redeemed Father. I will rebuild the church in our village and I will rebuild more churches and spread your love and your Gospel wherever I go. I understand now the path that you have laid out before me. Last week was just the beginning, this week 5 more members of Fight NYC will be anointed and blesses in your name and bathed in your blood. Amen Father!…..”


Thyme hears a loud bang and a flash of light before he blacks out.


———— The Morning After———————-


Sirens wail in the distance as Thyme opens his eyes. He is curled up in a fetal position underneath a tree outside of a house at the end of a cul de sac in the Pelham Bay Neighborhood in the Bronx. The has been condemned by the house is boarded up and a sign on the door denotes that it has been condemned by the city of New York. Thyme gets up and notices that a spot on the front lawn has a hole that is still fresh, probably where a for sale sign used to be.


“sir, have some decency and put some pants on. I know you may be homeless but there are kids in the area.” An old woman pushing a small dog in a big stroller hisses at Thyme as he looks down to see that he is not wearing any pants.


He tries to remember the the events of the previous night but can not recall how he got here. Thyme pats himself down and is relieved that his phone is still in his jacket pocket, and so is his wallet.


He checks his phone for thrift shops in the area. Someone had mentioned St. Stephen’s Thrift Shop but that is an hours walk away, and he doesn’t want to be on the bus in just his tighty whities.


Across the street from the dilapidated house he sees a clothesline hanging in the backyard of another home. “hopefully they have pants.” He says to himself. But all that is hanging are sundresses. Thyme puts on a green floral sundress. Across the street in the dilapidated house a silhouette is watching him from an upstairs window. The mysterious figure seems to be holding something that resembles a teddy bear in their arms….


to be continued……