STORY: He Comes and Goes Silently

At first I called the man scary. He had just walked past me outside of the QuikTrip. I flicked my cigarette at his heels. No one ever caught me. But he stopped, turned back to me and looked at me for a second. The scary part is the way he said what he said. "What do you want?"

I said, "Keep moving, bitchboy." I always said something like this because everyone assumed I was homeless. But it was like the acidic words I used to push people away were raining down on an umbrella we were suddenly both under. He had breached my barrier already. All my mental defenses built in the marine special forces had been immediately subverted.

He saw me. I was suddenly a child in response to the confidence of his gaze. He said, "I see your firepower and if you want, you will use it for good again."

I pressed my hand through my jacket pocket to where my Glock 9 was tucked into my belt. Then he looked down at my knee, directly at my left knee, and whispered, "When hope finds you, follow me."

Before I knew it, his wet footsteps trailed him around the corner out of sight.

It took me ten minutes to process what had happened. And about that long to realize my knee, the one that had taken shrapnel, didn't hurt anymore. Like, at all. It felt better than my other normal 35 year old right knee.

The word for him that grew in place of the word 'scary' over the next few weeks was 'good'. He is the most powerful man, without ever touching a blade of metal, nor gunpowder, and the man with more GOODNESS than I have ever fathomed. I wouldn't have said there was a good type of killing, but how he did it was. And a good type of saving too. So fucking GOOD. Sorry. And he did it all only seen by those individual people he interacted with, besides me spying on him. But I'll show you he always somehow knew I was watching, and he let me. The ultimate effective agent. Ultimate intel. Some invisible power to morph people's bodies and manipulate mental states. Most effective I have ever seen in every way. No weapon could stand against his way.

I watched much of it through a sniper scope.

It was hell finding him again. It became an obsession. But I was on a bench on the west side of Atlanta looking at my phone's video feed of a drone I had sent to search the surrounding blocks. Then a man walking by said, "How's the knee?" I glanced up just in time to see his heavy face look back forward, hidden by his hoody. I shot up but stood there awkwardly, realizing I couldn't just walk behind him. My training prompted me to stand on corners until he went out of view each time, and monitor the drone's view of him until I moved to a new corner. Eventually I saw him knock on a quiet sushi club that looked to be closed down. I worked my way to a rooftop across the street within 3 minutes and set out my gear. I used my infra-red scope to see movements inside, and pointed my focused microphone to listen. I ran it through computer filters to isolate voices and enhance images.

It took a moment to identify voices but I soon recognized his voice, firm and straightforward. And a colorful, charismatic voice of a business man cajoling and convincing. The business man was holding a cell phone as if the GOOD man had caught him right before making a call. The GOOD man simply said over and over. "You must stop this or I must stop you."

And the other voice said, "They're earning money. They'd be out on the streets without this. They love me. I'm meeting the needs of the bored and lonely."

"This third time is my last warning. If you are stopping this now, put down the phone."

The business man paused for just a moment, but then just dug his heels in. "What are you going to do anyway?" The man turned around to three other men that seemed to be backing him up.

"I will bring all things to light."

"Not if we stop you." And the man pushed the dial and held the phone up to his ear, waiting.

"That is WHAT will stop you." The GOOD man then spoke to the men standing behind him, "Donny, it was him that raped your cousin, Mary. Echo, that money he borrowed from you, he used to silence your wife because he sold photos of your baby Natty on PornWire. Hubbs, I know you have been looking for your opportunity to end this for a while. You are justified. Now is your chance. I will leave. You three must shut this down, and do all things with righteousness from now on. All three of you. Righteousness."

The third man nodded and the three looked at each other, drawing their guns. The Business leader turned to them as the GOOD man walked out.

I turned off the microphones after the first gunshot. I threw off my goggles and set aside the scope as I saw the nondescript man in the brown hoody walk out the door, take a breath, and look up.

We made eye contact for one moment and then he walked on. His words echoed in my head. "Follow me."

The next encounter was just a few minutes later. I was trailing him at 50 yards when I saw him jump off of the sidewalk into the brush on the side of the road. and stat to shuffle down the ravine. He was remarkably agile, skating down the slope as the brush toppled around him. I got him back in view about the time he neared the bottom. I noticed a body face down on mud, near a terribly messy tent. Clothes and plastic bags were strewn around. The GOOD man knelt next to the body and said something. I pointed the directionally focused microphone and turned up the volume.

The body of the prostrate man began to move. He looked up and sluggishly got to his knees.

The homeless man said, "Are you him?"

The GOOD man said, "I know you've been calling me."

"You're really the one I've prayed for?"

"Now is the time, my friend. Are able to let go of all this and go back to them?"

"I want to. But I don't know how. The Dope and stuff is stronger than me." He was a short Vietnamese, man, in a dirty windbreaker and loose jeans.

"I can give you freedom today. But you must go wash yourself, go to church, and then go back to your family. It will be uphill all the way. But you can lead your father's house again. Do you want it?"

"I would do anything to be rid of this and have them back... and it's almost Christmas time."

The GOOD man smiled, the first time I'd seen it, and said, "It is." Then he pulled a small, brown glass bottle with a metal cap out of his pocket and handed it to the man. The GOOD man said, "I free you of your chains, at this very moment. But drink this in remembrance of me and what I've done for you, any time you need it."

The man looked at it, uncapped it, and tasted it. Something bitter, by his face. He straightened up and brushed off dirt. He nodded and looked at the GOOD man accepting his new life trajectory. The GOOD man helped him gather a few of his essentials and hiked with him up out of the ravine.

The rest of that day I followed the GOOD man as he walked. He walked for hours. Walked past suffering storefronts and bustling skyscrapers. Past drug deals and coffee shops. Under the highway overpass until we were outside of the perimeter. I followed him until he found a toppled old building in an abandoned lot and he tucked himself behind it where he would not be bothered. I crouched at a distance and listened in with the microphone for a bit, but realized he was talking to himself, or maybe praying, and I didn't feel like I should be privy to that. It's unusual that I hold back when I could learn something I could later use against them. Don't get me wrong, I heard the first few minutes and it was so interesting. It was like he was talking to a best friend who he treated with familiarity yet extreme respect. A spouse, or Mother maybe. He was talking about his reticence to let them kill the man, wishing he had seen any signal the man might change his ways. And he talked about how hard it was to see the homeless man's condition in the ravine.

Honestly, I succumbed to a a rookie vice. I fell asleep. And when I woke up a couple hours later I had lost him.

I went home, finding myself trying to pray as I walked, like he had. It helped me process-- especially speaking it out loud did something to settle my body and my mind as I marched the six or so miles back home.

Over the next year and a half I found him from time to time and followed him and saw many things that affirmed his goodness. But now I'll tell you the final thing I saw where 'scary' met goodness in the most drastic of contrasts. I used to put much stock in my ability to control factors in this world with physical force or intelligence. But what I saw showed me how little power we really have. I have since sold all my guns and I am a teacher in a low income school in South Atlanta.

I had a favorite building roof that I liked to stake out and watch for him. Well, I had drones and monitors set up around the city to alert me. But this day I felt a hand on my shoulder. I realized I had been sleeping. I jumped away, rolled to my back and pointed my gun at him. He smiled and I immediately set my gun down.

I scrambled to my feet and stood before him, heart beating, "Uh, uh-- how long are you here for? I mean, do you want to go somewhere, we could chat if you'd like--"

"I'm about to do something very hard. And you have followed me a long time now. I wanted to be with you before I go. To pray with me."

I waited for more. But after a few seconds said, "Yes! Yes. Sure. I'd love to." I looked around at the humble rooftop. "Here?"

"Do you know a quiet place, maybe with some good coffee?"

I thought frantically for a moment and then smiled. "I do". I took him to the the local college's library, bought him coffee in the cafe, and led him to the top floor that overlooked Atlanta downtown.

We settled into two chair that overlooked the city and he began, "I'm going to miss you being nearby as I do these things. It's nice to have someone with a warrior's heart."

"I can keep following you! I kind of... live for it. I'm honestly given so much hope when I watch what you're doing."

"What you're about to see, will likely change everything about your life. I just ask that you find a way to fight the evil with what you have. With the people can help. I need helpers."

I nodded slowly, having difficulty letting go of the hope to keep following him.

"Now, will you pray with me?"

"Yes. And... uh..." I stuttered, "How do you do you want me to do that?"

"Whenever you feel the spirit move you, place your hand on me and ask God for what you hear. And I will do the same for you."

"What if I-- I mean I don't think I've ever heard 'the spirit'".

"Listen, and you'll learn. It's okay if it's imperfect. It takes work. Let's begin."

And he began to talk to God like I had heard that day behind the abandoned building. There were pauses and I tried add what felt right. Each time I tried to model him a little closer. At one point I had an idea, and I thought it might be the spirit and so I leaned over the armrest and put my hand on his shoulder as I prayed, "Endow upon my friend the powers of all the armies of heaven to accomplish the task before him."

Half an hour later our prayers fell to peace, and he said it was time.

He told me to stay behind the cement railing of an old bridge. I asked if I should use my guns and he said, just your prayers. He went down below, and walked along the train tracks half a block until he cut up through the brush and stopped at the back door of a building. He knocked, glanced at me, and then up to the sky.

It took me a second to recognize what building it was. Then I realized it was a rear building of an area known for it's drug deals, strip clubs, gang activity, and even it's frequenting of rap stars. The front of the complex was well-branded, luxurious, and even often had police cars parked there often to assure safety. But it suddenly struck me that maybe corrupt police were part of the operations.

Someone opened the door, the GOOD man spoke to him, and a moment later flashed a gun. The Good man grasped the man's hand in a way that showed he was instantly in pain. The GOOD man asked him a question and when the man scowled and spit on him the GOOD man pulled the man's arm with incredible force that I thought at the very least had dislocated his arm, leaving the man's face smashed into the door crack. The GOOD man pushed the door open with his foot and dragged the writhing man out. He asked the man something one more time and the man just attempted to spit on him again. The GOOD man put his hand on his face and said something. The man's body immediately flexed straight and his eyes went back into his head. Then he shook. Something was happening that I couldn't see so I slipped my goggles on and toggled back and forth between infra-red vision, night vision, and electromagnetic field vision. And then I saw. There was a flow of something coming out of his body through his mouth belly button and anus. And I saw a different force coming from the GOOD man's mouth washing it all away like a roaring river.

The GOOD man left the man motionless and went inside. I was able to see the ensuing battles, person by person that each included an appeal by the GOOD man, a refusal and attack by the person, a disabling action in the vein of some obscure martial arts, and then the casting out of something spiritual within them, leaving them half-injured, and dumbfounded on the floor. His physical body had power, but I began to realize the real force he was battling was unseen and foreign, within them.

I saw the strange lines in the other visual spectrums fill and arc through the rooms every time the GOOD man entered them. Sometimes like a tornado or windstorm. But then I saw ones that seemed previously cast out start to rush back in through the back door. I heard myself audibly cry out. And to my surprise they stopped and listened. As if first looking for my credentials. "In the name of the most high God, leave him be!"

It seemed to work, they drifted away. But I did not shy away from shouting it again over and over. I gained a confidence in the power of prayer in those moments. My guns would do little to stop the tides of these spirits and their control of men.

Over the next 15 minutes the GOOD man went from room to room, slowly making his way to the upper room above where he had entered. I had not noticed it before but a small light was in the window. And as I examined the heat map of the room, there were hot spots at five places around a circle. I realized it was probable a pentagram of candles. As the central brain of this large building complex, and all its tendrils reaching throughout this city, was a room dedicated to hearing Satanic messages.

And the GOOD man worked his way to that room until he did battle with the men and spirits in there. I saw the five candle light sources get knocked about one by one as bodies moved like a storm inside, some of them going out, others seeming to catch fire. The GOOD man was a spiritual force indeed, but physically he worked methodically, as if he had known and planned for each attack, each bullet fired, each expenditure of energy as a calculated, choreographed dance. He knew exactly how this would end, and had practiced exactly each move he knew he would need to do.

Until the end. When he emerged again out of the back door, I met him down below and helped carry him away from the complex. He was completely exhausted. And as we walked over the bridge on the way to find some place safe, I saw flames start to lick through the windows of the building.

I helped take care of his body in my home for the next day and a half until one day I woke up and he was no longer there.

I hoped I would see him again some day. But until then, I did indeed start over, and put my efforts towards helping those who needed it. And now, along with using intelligence and experience, I taught those kids, but now also with constant prayer, knowing that the bigger forces at play in the outcomes of men and women are fought for in the spiritual realm.

Raw Spoon, December 9, 2025