From God's Lips to the Devil's Ear: The Saga of a Mormon Madman

Chapter 1

The Gift

*

THE PANORAMA FROM ZECHARIAH’S citadel window was both imposing and breathtaking. From his vantage point high above the city lay much of central Utah, from the massive snow-covered mountain range toward the east, to the Great Salt Lake in the west. Awe-inspiring and unsurpassed in beauty, Zechariah thought it was God’s handiwork at its very finest.

As it was destined to be, at thirteen years of age, Zechariah was in absolute command of his entire domain, from the immense Mormon temple towers, to the multitudes of his faith. As the supreme leader of his church, Zechariah supposed he was the sole ear and messenger for the one and true God. As he gazed out lovingly at nature’s great majesty, Zechariah’s mind absently drifted back to the peculiar series of events that had led to this momentous day.

* * *

As the last child in his family of nine, a very young Zechariah had adored his family and church. Sunday, above all others, was the day he looked forward to with greatest of zeal. Going to temple with his clan made him feel safe and secure and he relished the fluttering feeling in his belly every time he entered the impressive edifice. Little Zech was absolutely positive that God lived within those grandiose walls.

Like all his past birthdays, his tenth fell on a most holy day, December 25th. The Savior’s and Zech’s birthday were the same, and he had known without doubt that this was not just by mere chance. He was convinced that his birthday was specially ordained and part of God’s miraculous yet mysterious scheme.

With unbridled exuberance, Zechariah awoke at first light and excitedly started to dress himself for church. On his first day as a young man, he had decided he no longer needed any assistance from his parents and ceremoniously opened the closet and took out the threadbare suit that his mother had recently purchased for him.

In preparation for his all-important birthday, his mother, Miriam, had purposely stopped by the local thrift store to see if they had a proper suit for his much anticipated event.

Zechariah had already envisioned the pale ecru suit in his dreams and had unknowingly informed his mother as to where to find it. However, his mother had not been the least bit surprised to see the light tan suit displayed in the front window of the storefront. She had known early on that her youngest son had a gift for haunting visions of future events.

Miriam had much experience with the gift, and it secretly terrified her. Her child’s extraordinary ability had revealed itself one morning, soon after his third year of life. In a sleepy, trance-like state, Zechariah, in a grinding and gravelly voice, would whisper to her of events and future occurrences that could not possibly be known; both wonderful things and horrific things.

From the small cache of gold coins hidden in the attic by Miriam’s grandfather, long since passed, to the tragic news of her future stillborn child, her youngest son would confide his secret portents to her and her alone. Every morning she would enter his room, breathless with dread, not knowing if Zech was going to wake up and smile at her sweetly, or with bloodshot eyes drawn up into their sockets, pull her head close to his lips and whisper his freakish revelations into her apprehensive ear.

After revealing his unearthly imaginings, Miriam would always shudder with trepidation, secretly wondering if his words were angelic or demonic in nature. However, as time went on, she had finally come to accept his gift as something blessed and special. But with a sense of great foreboding, she also had an eerie feeling that his gift would be the medium of her son’s ultimate demise.

After Zech would finish his uncanny prognostications, Miriam would kiss her son gently on the forehead, wake him fully, and then point the boy to the bathroom. While picking out his clothes for the day, she would make her son promise to tell no one else of his dreams. Miriam always insisted that his gift had to be their secret. They would then lock pinky fingers and solemnly swear their clandestine oath.

To Zechariah, this secret vow had always been somewhat confusing. By the time he had raised the seat to use the toilet, he would have completely forgotten about his mysterious, extemporal mutterings. On those fuzzy, brain-murky mornings, he would always awake feeling sick to his stomach, and the inside of his head would buzz wildly, like he had a swarm of angry hornets trapped inside. Even though the aftereffects of the gift were unsettling, Zech knew those strangely nauseating reverberations would always pass quickly.

Miriam was never quite sure if Zachariah remembered the content of his inexplicable words. He had never spoken once about any of his predictions, and had always gone about the rest of his day as though nothing had ever occurred. The only thing she knew for certain was that all of Zechariah’s visions came true. Miriam was also positive her son’s growling whispers were heaven-sent. She simply would not accept any other possibility.

Always on edge, Miriam was terrified that if her special son’s secret was revealed, someone might harm her exceptional child of God. If the gift was ever discovered, she was certain that her husband and the church bishops would not appreciate his extraordinary abilities and would send him away to be exorcized.

His soiled soul is evilly possessed and foul, the superstitious and unenlightened fools would claim. Miriam knew very well that Mormon men had no perception, much less patience, for the unexplainable. Their puny, backward brains were only able to think in black or white. What the ignoramuses could not explain away in earthly terms, they would simply blame on Satan.

She also knew that the church elders had their ways of brainwashing young children, including torture, and Miriam would have none of that. To be sure, the obstinately pragmatic yet undeniably superstitious men that ruled their lives would never get the chance to lay a hand on her special son. Miriam knew she was destined to be Zechariah’s protector from all threats, whether from Church doctrine, or pig-headed, unenlightened holy men.

Zechariah’s father, Lukas, seemed to work endlessly, but the large family had always lived their lives below the poverty level. At eighteen years of age, and expecting their third child, Zech’s dad had dropped out of school before high school graduation, and worked tirelessly at a discount warehouse in Salt Lake City to provide them the basic needs. When not toiling at the store, he spent the remainder of his time devoutly serving his ward at the stake house.

Miriam had no choice but to stay at home to care for Zech and his older brothers and sisters, which was her staunch duty to both church and husband. In the scheme of things, Zechariah understood early on that his mother took a back seat to her husband, and his faith. To the boy’s Mormon- indoctrinated mind that seemed normal and customary. After all, according to his father, it was God’s will and simply the way of the church.

Young Zech simply treasured his dad. After school, he would dutifully complete his homework and chores, and then sit anxiously by the front window waiting for his father to arrive home for dinner. Once he had spied the decrepit, rusty Dodge van pulling into the driveway, he would push his way through the throng of siblings, to be the first to give his dad a hug.

Every night before bed, Zechariah’s father would read him stories from the Book of Mormon, always gesturing and animating the tales with dramatic vocal flair. Zech would listen spell-bound, even forgetting to fully breathe on occasion. The mysterious tales always fascinated Zech and he always listened intently, making sure to never forget a word. After the mystifying stories had ended, his dad would give him a huge bear hug, and then tuck the covers under his chin. He would then wait patiently for Zechariah to drift off into sleep.

While his father ruled over Zech’s everyday life, Miriam watched over her son’s secret, unearthly gift, always on guard to make sure that it would never be revealed to the outside world.

Chapter 2

Revelations

*

ONCE HE HAD DRESSED, Zechariah looked at his reflection in the bedroom mirror. The suit did look a slight bit worn, but he couldn’t have been more pleased. His father helped him to tie the knot in his tie and now they both stood looking at the image of a new young man staring back.

Amazingly, the boy of nine was gone forever and a new and provocative feeling arose from within the child. It was pride, sinfully compelling, and Zech secretly enjoyed this enticing but forbidden sensation. After mulling over his feelings carefully, his smile slowly faded. He quickly remembered his father’s words, "We are a modest and simple people, neither fancy nor vain. That is God’s way." Shaking his head, Zechariah pushed away the evil temptation, and then turned to his father.

Lukas had a tear in one eye, and the sight gave the boy an odd feeling. Zechariah’s birthday was becoming a hodgepodge of emotions: happiness, pride, and suddenly, an overwhelming feeling of foreboding.

As the boy stared into the mirror, a chill suddenly went up his spine. Surrounding his reflection, churning black clouds were boiling out rapidly from the glass. The tumultuous vapors slowly morphed into gnarled, menacing hands, reaching out from the monstrous storm to grab hold of the boy. As he stared at the freakish sight, his body froze with dread. With his eyes completely fixated on the hypnotic and sinister scene in front of him, a hand suddenly grasped his shoulder from behind. Jumping back with a gasp, he turned to see his mother who was looking down at him with a curious smile. When he gazed back to the mirror, the ominous maelstrom of malevolent clouds had entirely disappeared.

Miriam had joined the pair, and both parents teasingly swooned over the handsome new man reflected in the mirror. Miriam took a hairbrush from the dresser and tried to tame her son’s wild blond curls. Since his hair always seemed to be a mess, she had lovingly referred to Zechariah as her little haystack. After a few passes over his obstinate locks, she dropped the brush with feigned disgust, and then broke into laugher. After hugs all around, they hurried downstairs to join the rest of the family for breakfast.

After the ravenous pack had gobbled down a hearty meal that could have fed an army, the family quickly made their way to the dilapidated van parked in the driveway. Temple services started at 10 AM sharp and they were not going to be late; Zech was making sure of that.

A stiff breeze was blowing in from the north, making the frosty chill bitingly cold. With purplish-grey storm clouds starting to brew over the mountains, Zech became even more excited, knowing that snow had been forecast by noon. The exuberant boy suddenly realized this extraordinary morning was turning into the perfect birthday.

On the way to the Temple, Zechariah’s mind wandered back to the horrid scene in his mirror. He tried to make sense of the weird vision, but soon started to wonder if it had really happened at all. As the first few snowflakes bounced off the windshield of the van, the boy regained his holiday cheer and quickly dismissed the odd occurrence.

Arriving at the great church, the large and enthusiastic family proceeded to the main hall where the Christmas celebration was to take place.

Without a doubt, the Temple in Salt Lake City was imposingly breathtaking. Like a marble-clad castle with medieval turrets and towers, the building was gracefully adorned with heavenly saints of gold.

Zech stared in wonderment at the grandiose edifice. The sight had always filled his heart with joy, and his soul with reverence. He realized this sacred structure was a very special place, the divine protector of the Mormon faithful. Zachariah also knew that only men ruled this grand enclave, and there were places within those hallowed walls that women dared not enter. Happily, for this event, all were welcome.

His family hurried inside, grateful to get out of the ever-increasing sting of snow pellets and icy gusts, and into the warm and comforting embrace of the sanctuary.

Seated inside, the family gazed affectionately about the interior. The heart of the Temple was as awe-inspiring in size and adornment as the outside. Zechariah guessed that the vast chamber was big enough to fit over a hundred houses like his inside. To the innocently devout child, it was like heaven’s grand space on earth.

Zech was simply beaming, dressed in his new adult suit and sitting inside the awe-inspiring edifice on Christmas day. This was life at its most meaningful and he had never, in his entire life, felt so blissful. As other members of the congregation passed the family, all made special notice of the new and handsome young man in their midst. Lukas and Miriam smiled back warmly, thanking all those who made such kind and generous comments.

This tightly intertwined religious community shared their lives closely, and much care was taken to ensure that all of the members of the church were recognized, especially on important holidays.

Mormons had always been a very caring and self-protecting group of people. They had learned the significance of this trait early on in their history. Throughout their tormented past, the Mormon people had been shunned and driven away by unaccepting and bigoted townsfolk because of their unorthodox religious practices. Only when the beleaguered Mormon pioneers had settled within the wild and untamed territory of Utah did they finally find some peace and refuge. In Salt Lake City, they had secured a safe and permanent sanctuary for their faith.

The holiday services started with music from the world-renowned Mormon Tabernacle Choir, legendary for their exceptional vocal blend and musical precision. Accompanying the choir was the Utah Philharmonic Orchestra, overflowing with curiously interesting instruments of brass, silver, and wood. The musical ensembles were framed by the massive church organ with golden pipes that covered the entire west wall.

Zech listened keenly, awed by the stunning spectacle and magnificent sounds of the performers, the heavenly music easily equaling the grace and majesty of the church itself. The combination of perfectly blended voices and the one-hundred-piece orchestra was overwhelming, making the boy giddy with amazement. In the quieter moments, he could hear the whistling gales of wind outside and the soft percussive pattering of sleet on the windows from the brewing storm. It was an inspiring musical collaboration of nature and man, working in tandem to exalt the other on this most auspicious day.

As Zechariah reveled in the grandeur of the concert, the boy suddenly felt awash in a wave of queasiness and he quickly lowered his head. Something inside his brain had started buzzing and this odd irritation had instantly made him feel sick to his stomach. No, please not today! I don’t want to be ill! Zech silently begged. In his mind, he refused to have anything marring his special day.

As the boy crouched in his seat, the disturbing vibrations grew even stronger, drowning out the glorious music and making him both woozy and disoriented. Then, something completely unexpected happened. From the inner depths of his brain, a vivid yet sickening vision emerged. A blinding explosion, followed by shattering glass, chaos, thick smoke, and tortured screams. As he watched the horrific scene unfold, a haunting voice, metallic and rasping, ground out a terrifying warning in his head. Zechariah, get out!

Zech could not comprehend what was happening to him. Both confused and alarmed, he tried to will the unwanted visions away, yet the gruesome scenario and malevolent voice in his head would not relent. Zechariah… flee from this Temple, or die!

The frightened boy grasped his head tightly with both hands, desperately trying to squeeze out the spectral voice and heinous scenes from his mind. As the room started to spin wildly around him, the disoriented child quickly started to panic. His gut was now on fire and his brain felt like it was about to burst through his skull.

No longer able to hold back the violent churning in his stomach, Zechariah retched up his breakfast. The predigested swill splattered over the backs of a well-dressed older couple sitting directly in front of him. The spew-soaked and thoroughly mortified pair turned around with horrified expressions of revulsion, staring at the boy as though they had just met Lucifer himself.

Miriam swiftly came to her ill son’s aid, pulling a Kleenex from her purse and trying to wipe-up the mess from Zech’s face and lap. She then tried to convey her apologies to the unfortunate pair in front, but they had already gotten up and were slowly hobbling toward the end of the pew. Out of the corner of her eye, Miriam noticed the two suddenly stop and turn around to glare distastefully at their holiday spoiler.

As Miriam tended to her child, she knew that something more than a bellyache was taking place. Her son was shaking, and his hands were frantically clutching his sweat-soaked head. The sight immediately turned her pale with fright. She quickly pushed Zechariah’s hands away and lifted his face up to her gaze, and what she witnessed paralyzed her with fear. Still shuddering violently, the child sluggishly started to open his eyes. They were completely bloodshot and entirely void of any blue tint. His vomit-stained lips were trying to form words, but no sounds would emerge.

Miriam’s silent horror only intensified, her brain instantly swirling in a panicked frenzy. Please God, not now! Not here! They mustn’t know of the gift! she silently pleaded.

* * *

As the tranquil strains of Ave Maria softly subsided, the final placid chord echoed serenely throughout the church edifice, magically comforting the audience with its peaceful reassurance. Unfortunately, that sweet and harmonious sound was soon to be replaced by a much more menacing reverberation, darkly malevolent and completely incomprehensible.

Chapter 3

The Gift Is Revealed

*

AS SUDDENLY AS IT had started, Zechariah abruptly stopped shuddering and his eyes were once again blue and clear. He looked up at his mother with bewildered apprehension, and managed to give her a weak, broken smile. Miriam slowly stopped trembling as well, thankfully realizing that her son was only ill. She realized no whispered revelations would be exposed, and was grateful beyond words that her son’s secret was still safe and secure. She quickly drew Zechariah close to her in an attempt to reassure and comfort her ailing child.

An instant later, with panicked thoughts flooding his brain again, Zech quickly grabbed hold of his mother’s arm. He then took his free hand and grasped hold of her neck. With panicked urgency, he drew her ear to his lips, anxiously whispering, "We have to go now!"

Miriam looked down quizzically at her son. She wondered if he was still feeling nauseous and needed to go to the restroom. Zech’s frantic eyes met his mother’s, his face now visibly distressed. Suddenly, his words seemed strangely commanding and his hand squeezed hers painfully.

We need to go now, or we will all die!

Miriam was at first stunned by her son’s grim message. Astonished by his calamitous words and forceful tone, she simply stared down at Zech in disbelief. Then, with all the strength he could muster, Zechariah grabbed his mother around the neck with both arms and desperately pulled her so close that their faces were touching.

As her eyes grew wide with fear, she heard her son’s final warning, the all too familiar gravelly voice now spitting out its ominous forewarning of disaster: "Miriam, get your family out from the Temple, or they all will die! Make haste, for God’s wrath will soon be upon you!" Upon hearing her son’s raspy prediction of doom, Miriam realized it was the gift, and it was no longer a sacred message concealed within a young child’s sleepy trance. Her son was now having his holy visions while awake and he was fully aware of the message.