The Encounter

Militza Jimenez

                 I remember how the sound of the iron devil surrounded the twenty-five story building on Baralt Ave, back in 1976. Every single day coming back from school, I would feel tired, afraid, and overwhelmed trying to hold the butterflies in my stomach, my heart inside my chest, and my mind from spinning around. I would walk with rocks inside my shoes, dragging myself into the elevator dizzy and nauseous. “One thousand and one, one thousand and two, one thousand and three.” It was a long way up, all the way to one thousand and twenty-one. I could see the numbers in the elevator illuminate as they announced the impending encounter with the spirit of the iron devil. I could feel the walls of the elevator pushing me around, stealing all the air inside. I could feel my ears burn in flames and my hands sweat. While I was counting trying not to pass out, my body would do all kinds of involuntary responses which most of the time resulted in embarrassment. Finally, the door opened and I found myself confused. I could hear the spirit inside the iron pot whistle, furious, and steaming. I was eight years old when I decided to confront the horrible monster. I waited for him to be alone in the kitchen, and I was shaking. I took a deep breath and with all my strength I held his neck in my hands and strangled him. He exploded and all the insides of his brain and his body flew over the ceiling. I was in panic, paralyzed, when all his body mass and fluids landed on top of my head, burning all my thoughts and cleansing all my sins. From that day on I swore to obey my mom and keep my hands off the pressure cooker.