A.B. Wallace

He is not a man but a creature . . . created by man. He is made of stone, rock hard and cold. Yes, it was man who carved him . . . not in his own image . . . but in the image of a grotesque creature. His function is to guard the gate to hell, and to do battle against the dark forces of evil should they attempt to enter the world of the living. He is the sentinel . . . forever trapped within a dull green slab of stone. He is a Gargoyle. And I am Sasha.

It was I who released the demons of hell from their confinement. And in doing so . . . I unwittingly released the Gargoyle from his slumber. I hadn't meant to do so, you see. I hadn't realized that the Gargoyle would awaken . . . take one look at me and place me under his protective wings. How was I to know that whoever opens the gate, and releases the demons of the underworld would have to deal with the Gargoyle?

But before I continue, I must explain the motive behind my madness. Anger and rage filled my soul. I wasn't attractive enough. I wasn't smart enough. I wasn't hard-hearted enough. In other words, I wasn't good enough. I couldn't deal with it; this impotent feeling that filled me. I was being judged for what I wasn't instead of what I was. And so I decided to get even.

Unfortunately, I didn't think of those undeserving of such evil. I didn't think of the consequences . . . and I certainly didn't think of the Gargoyle.

It was a cool autumn night. I entered the cemetery with one goal in mind-to open the gate to hell. It was not difficult to find, after all how many iron gates have a seven-foot Gargoyle stoically sitting in front of them? A sense of euphoria filled me as I neared the gate. My eyes bulged at the sight of the cast of demons intricately sketched into the iron frame. So beautiful, I thought. I gripped the iron handle, turned it and pulled.

Nothing!! Imagine, absolutely nothing happened. I expected fire and brimstone. I expected a bit of theatrics. I mean; this was supposed to be hell, for pity sake. Instead I got-nothing. It was not until I turned away in disappointment that I noticed-him.

He stood before me . . . a diabolical grin on his snout. Envision the Mona Lisa smile on a dog and you'll get my meaning. It was a truly frightening experience. A pit bull with wings-that's what he was. And to my further displeasure he spoke with an English accent. Incredible, I know but it's true. Imagine he spoke in a dulcet culture voice.

"Choose!!" He growled at me as if I truly had a choice. Help him or have my head chopped off . . . that was my choice. Well, what else could I do? My head is of some import to me.

Well, anyway, I was in a state of constant disorder while he on the other hand was overly organized. Within minutes he had our entire strategy planned. Of course, I was confused and slightly upset for I could not comprehend how we could possibly capture all of the demons of hell within his short time frame. It seemed impossible and I told him so.

To my embarrassment, he inhaled dramatically as if to say . . . how stupid, and then gestured towards a tombstone. I sat on the hard cold stone, my butt freezing as my pants stuck to it. Just what I needed, I thought, something to keep my mind centered.

"A human husk possesses both evil and good. In some human husks evil is the dominant and in others good is the dominant, yet equality always exists. Balance is retained, but when this balance is disrupted chaos exists," he said with finality, as if I would understand what the hell he was talking about. No way!!

As if he read my mind or . . . well, maybe it was my vacant stare, he continued in his explanation. "Can you not see? By releasing the demons you have tipped the scale between good and evil. Evil dominates. It is this imbalance that we must change," he said.

"But how can we?" I asked, knowing that there was no way we could . . . that this would be the end of this ridiculous stand against the evils of the underworld. Once again, he inhaled dramatically, only this time his entire body got into the act.

I was getting tired of watching him pace back and forth when he suddenly stopped in front of me, trembling with what I would say was a good dose of impatience. "You are unbelievable," he bellowed. "Do you think that I, the Sentinel, would not possess the power to cast hells dominions back to their fiery domain? Do you take me for a fool, you insignificant little human husk?" He actually spat those last two words at me, his spittle catching me in the eye.

I was insulted not only by his words but by his attitude. He was the one who insisted I help . . . not I. No, I would have rather walked away.

He was charged with so much energy that I thought he would explode. I couldn't seem to keep myself from staring at his eyebrow, which seemed to tick out of control. It amused me, the way it kept twitching while he tried to get himself under control. I would have continued to stare, but his hand (or should I say . . . paw) distracted me. In his hand was a circular disk, a diamond shaped circular disk that glowed bright red.

He placed this disk around his neck. It hovered in the center of his heart unencumbered by its lack of a chain. He lifted the disk and I watched him rub it, fascinated as the disk changed colors. First a deep red, then a deep blue.

"This is all we need," he said. "The Talisman will absorb all that is evil until balance is achieved. Then we will return . . . to this place, and all will be as it should be."

I was still uncertain but kept my silence. I wanted to get this over with so that I could resume my humdrum life. But I didn't know then, that things would never be as they were before.

The Gargoyle took me in his arms and began to run. If I could see my eyes, I'm sure they would have been bulging out of their sockets . . . so fast were we moving. God, we were moving so fast that everything seemed to blur as we passed. Suddenly we were in the air; below us I could see a colony of ants scurrying about. But they weren't ants. They were cars. What I was seeing was the Interstate.

I shouted my exhilaration and laughed with joy. How incredibly stimulating it was, to feel the wind in my face, to smell the sweet scent of fresh clean air, to fly high above the world feeling free and alive. How I loved it. I was disappointed and deflated when we landed.

Why stop? I wanted to ask but didn't. I was too depressed and didn't want to hear the answer. But he seemed to read my mind as he shifted me in his arms. "We are only taking a rest, my little human husk."

There he went again, calling me a human husk. How insulting. "Listen, Gargoyle, the name's Sasha. Understand. If you call me . . . human husk one more time, I will make you regret it," I screeched with such force that I was sure he would be angered. Instead he began to laugh. Not a simple, simpering laugh but a full-throated uproarious laugh that went through my body like thunder.

"Sasha," he murmured huskily, "a fitting name for such a beautiful creature." Well, that's all I needed to hear . . . bull coming from the mouth of a Gargoyle. But then again, who was I to deny myself such flattery? After all, in this little fairy tale I was finally the beauty . . . and not the beast. Although I would not exactly call the Gargoyle a beast, he was attractive in an animalistic sort of way.

"So what's your name?" I asked. "Besides Gargoyle that is."

"Falcon," he replied. "I am called Falcon to those that are dear to my heart."

What an answer! What a dilemma! If I called him by his name, would he be insulted? I didn't know so I decided to keep my mouth shut just in case.

Abruptly, he stood and turned his back to me. His shoulders drooped and he looked up . . . at the sky. The gray sky, I noticed. "It will rain soon," I said. He nodded, his back still to me, then he turned and I was in his arms once more.

Once again, we were in flight. It was then that I noticed the Talisman. Its color was constantly changing, red to blue, blue to red and so on. By nighttime, we would have traveled around the world and back to where we started. I didn't want to believe it, yet it was so obvious. The Talisman was doing its job. It was filtering excess evil from the world. By the end of our flight . . . balance would be achieved and . . . Falcon would no longer exist.

Time ceased to exist for me as the Talisman continued to do its job, as the sky changed from day to night and then we were back. Back to where this all began. He was tired, I knew, yet he hadn't stopped again and I hadn't said a word.

I was worried. No, I was more than worried; I was frightened. What would become of me? I wondered, for I was not a fool. I was bound to pay for what I had done. I could see it in Falcon's eyes. Their intensity burned . . . like that of a predatory animal that had his prey in sight.

"Sasha," he said. "I can not let you go . . . but know . . . that my heart does not agree with what I must do."

God, this was it. The end was near . . . and I didn't care. Yes, I didn't care for what would life be like now. Nothing had changed, really. I was still the same vindictive person I was before. I was still unhappy.

Strange as this may sound, I liked being with Falcon. I enjoyed doing what we did and I felt good about it. Yes, I felt good about myself.

"Falcon," I called, "I'm ready."

"Falcon," he repeated with such warmth; my throat clogged up. "Falcon," he repeated again, only this time the Mona Lisa smile was in place. "The choice is yours to make, Sasha." And what a choice it was. Sit by his side or die.

For you see, he was lonely. Falcon, the Sentinel . . . the Gargoyle was lonely. But of course, he would be. The lone sentinel . . . forever guarding the world against the demons of hell . . . to sit alone within that dull green slab of stone . . . how sad it seemed to me. And it was just like him to give me a choice. Death . . . or what . . . become a dull green slab of stone. To sit by his side for eternity, two sentinels, fighting together, flying together . . ..

Of course, I had already made my choice, but there was one question I had to ask first. It was important to me, after all. I had to know if we had the ability to come to life at will . . . or if we had to wait. Wait for another human husk, as he would say, to unleash the demons of hell.

Well, let me tell you. The answer was to my liking. If you get a chance, come and visit. There are two of us now. Yes, two Gargoyles-but I'm the better looking of the two. By the way, I would prefer that you come at the stroke of midnight. From then on I am wide-awake and so is Falcon. That is our favorite time of day . . . every day . . . for that is the time we are needed. You know, fighting evil and . . . that sort of stuff.

(See Bibliography for note on print history.)