The Incubus

Chapter 6, Scene 1

'Good morning, Simon,' the nurse at the reception desk greeted with a friendly smile. 'We haven't seen you around for a while.'

Simon nodded and returned the smile. 'I was working at a site,' he said and handed her a small hand-picked flower. 'This is for you, of course.'

The nurse took the flower and blushed. 'Why, thank you.'

'Can I see him?'

'He's waiting for you,' she said and winked. 'As usual.'

Simon thanked her and made his way down the long, cold hallway; his footsteps echoing in the hollow passageway. Finally he reached room 218.

He took a deep breath before entering and took a minute to look around first observe the minor changes since his last visit. There were new cards and flowers, but aside from that, everything was still the same. It was the same blue curtains, the same white and blue bed linen, the same cold chill in the air, and the same constant beeping coming from the cardio monitor. Little Timmy still lay in the same position he had been in since Simon first went to visit him. His head and arms were wrapped in bandages, leaving only large enough holes for his eyes and one for the plastic pipe protruding from his mouth.

'Good morning, Tim,' Simon said and placed fresh flowers in an already-full vase. 'How are you today?'

The only response from Timmy was the steady rhythm of his inhaling and exhaling and the constant soft beeping.

'Got you some flowers and a card,' Simon said and placed his card next to the ever growing stack from people all over South Africa. There was a card from almost everyone in the small town of Kelwick. A self-made multi-millionaire created the Timmy Evans Trust Fund and donated six figures into the fund to get the ball rolling. Since then the trust fund has grown considerably, gaining support from schools, churches, corporations, and even international well-meaning folk. World renowned pastors and priests have swept up churches globally to pray for the boy.

Unfortunately there were those who wanted to exploit the accident for their own fame and fortune by claiming publicly that they could 'heal' little Timmy for extravagant amounts of money. Timmy's parents didn't take too kindly to them and promptly sent them on their way.

'I have another story for you today,' Simon said and pulled a chair next to the bed. 'It's the story of a man that died and came back to life a little over two thousand years ago.'

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Simon smiled. 'Not Jesus, no,' he said. 'I told you that one already, remember?'

Beep. Beep. Beep.

'It's about a man called Lazarus. Do you know about him?'

Beep. Beep. Beep.

'Well, he actually knew Jesus. They were good friends, in fact.' Simon sat back and made himself comfortable. 'Anyway,' he said. 'When Lazarus died, Jesus waited a few days before going to his friend's grave. The people weren't happy that Jesus came so late, because they believed that He could have healed Lazarus.'

Simon stood up and walked to the basin where he poured some water into a glass. He then returned to the boy's side. 'Now this is where the good part comes in,' Simon said after drinking some of the water. 'Jesus had healed so many people already that he wanted them to experience the glory of God by doing something different this time. He wanted to show the people that God's power wasn't just limited to healing only, but that it was more powerful than even death itself. Not only did Jesus restore his friend to full health, but he raised him from the dead as well. Isn't that just super?'

Beep. Beep. Beep.

'Yeah,' Simon said. 'I think so too.' He looked up at the monitor and then took the boy's bandaged hands in his own. Simon then lowered his head and softly began to pray until late into the afternoon.