Witness.
A few years ago I had a very strange experience with a Jehova's witness at my door; I wrote about it here. Turns out it wasn't all that singular, because something similar happened the other day.
Let me tell you about it.
A knock at my door prompts me to turn my music down. I'm not expecting company, let alone a knock, since I have a doorbell; who knocks when there's a doorbell available? I walk up to my door but before I open it I decide to look through the peephole. All I see is an empty hallway and my neighbour's front door looking back at me. I shrug and head back, but before long I hear a strange whirring sound coming from the hallway, followed by my doorbell chiming through my apartment.
IndentI go back to the door, look through the peephole again, but still there is no one to be seen. Either I am being had by mischievous kids or I am going insane. Either way, no sense in opening the door. I decide it's time for a break anyway and I head for the kitchen to make myself a sandwich and a drink. I have two fresh slices of white bread in my hands when I hear that whirring sound again; my doorbell rings an instant later.
IndentI fling away the slices and jog to my door, intent on either catching those kids in the act or definitively proving my insanity. I pull the door open to an empty, quiet hallway. I look around and open my mouth to hear better, but there's no sound of kids giggling or running away. Time to call my therapist. But it is when I am slowly closing the door that I hear a polite cough. I look down.
IndentA tiny person, no larger than a toddler, is standing in front of me. Three feet, if that. I glance quickly to my left, to the doorbel which sits quietly on the door post. On eye level. A good six feet off the floor.
Indent"Oh, erm, hi," I mutter, slightly taken aback.
Indent"Good day, sir," he says, his voice high-pitched and shrill, his neck craning as he looks up at me. "Would you allow me to tell you about our saviour Jesus Christ?" He reaches out a short, stubby arm to give to me some folders and brochures. Big droopy eyes looking up at me expectantly.
Indent"Erm, sheesh, I'm sorry, that's not for me. Good luck, though."
Indent"That is fine, sir. Have a nice day," he says, somewhat dejectively, before I slowly close the door. But I don't walk away, I quietly put my eye to the peephole.
IndentI watch him walking away from my door, towards my neighbour's. He sticks out his tiny fist and raps the door firmly. Nothing happens, which is unsurprising since my neighbour is not at home. The doorbell looms ominously over him, like the North star over a tiny, creepy baby Jesus.
IndentSuddenly he turns his head and looks at my door. He squints at the peephole for a second or two, like he is looking straight at me, before he turns back to the door in front of him. He hunches his shoulders for an instant, and suddenly the folds on the back of his brown overcoat open up and two fragile looking wings fold out from his back. Not bird wings, but insect wings, like a gigantic dragonfly. These papery, transluscent wings flap a few times and the dust in the hallway swirls in a dance of joy. Then the speed picks up; the wings start flapping so fast that they become a blur. That whirring sound fills the hallway, and before I know it his feet are lifted off the ground an inch, two inches, a foot, two feet.
IndentHis small hand reaches out towards the doorbell and gradually he comes closer and closer, until finally his fingers find the button and I hear the faint sound of a doorbell chiming. Immediately the wings slow down as he rapidly lowers himself back onto his feet. He rolls his shoulders and the wings fold in on themselves and disappear between the folds of his heavy overcoat.
IndentI watched this, completely breathless. Apparently even jehovah's witnesses have a need to evolve. How ironic.
Let me tell you about it.
A knock at my door prompts me to turn my music down. I'm not expecting company, let alone a knock, since I have a doorbell; who knocks when there's a doorbell available? I walk up to my door but before I open it I decide to look through the peephole. All I see is an empty hallway and my neighbour's front door looking back at me. I shrug and head back, but before long I hear a strange whirring sound coming from the hallway, followed by my doorbell chiming through my apartment.
IndentI go back to the door, look through the peephole again, but still there is no one to be seen. Either I am being had by mischievous kids or I am going insane. Either way, no sense in opening the door. I decide it's time for a break anyway and I head for the kitchen to make myself a sandwich and a drink. I have two fresh slices of white bread in my hands when I hear that whirring sound again; my doorbell rings an instant later.
IndentI fling away the slices and jog to my door, intent on either catching those kids in the act or definitively proving my insanity. I pull the door open to an empty, quiet hallway. I look around and open my mouth to hear better, but there's no sound of kids giggling or running away. Time to call my therapist. But it is when I am slowly closing the door that I hear a polite cough. I look down.
IndentA tiny person, no larger than a toddler, is standing in front of me. Three feet, if that. I glance quickly to my left, to the doorbel which sits quietly on the door post. On eye level. A good six feet off the floor.
Indent"Oh, erm, hi," I mutter, slightly taken aback.
Indent"Good day, sir," he says, his voice high-pitched and shrill, his neck craning as he looks up at me. "Would you allow me to tell you about our saviour Jesus Christ?" He reaches out a short, stubby arm to give to me some folders and brochures. Big droopy eyes looking up at me expectantly.
Indent"Erm, sheesh, I'm sorry, that's not for me. Good luck, though."
Indent"That is fine, sir. Have a nice day," he says, somewhat dejectively, before I slowly close the door. But I don't walk away, I quietly put my eye to the peephole.
IndentI watch him walking away from my door, towards my neighbour's. He sticks out his tiny fist and raps the door firmly. Nothing happens, which is unsurprising since my neighbour is not at home. The doorbell looms ominously over him, like the North star over a tiny, creepy baby Jesus.
IndentSuddenly he turns his head and looks at my door. He squints at the peephole for a second or two, like he is looking straight at me, before he turns back to the door in front of him. He hunches his shoulders for an instant, and suddenly the folds on the back of his brown overcoat open up and two fragile looking wings fold out from his back. Not bird wings, but insect wings, like a gigantic dragonfly. These papery, transluscent wings flap a few times and the dust in the hallway swirls in a dance of joy. Then the speed picks up; the wings start flapping so fast that they become a blur. That whirring sound fills the hallway, and before I know it his feet are lifted off the ground an inch, two inches, a foot, two feet.
IndentHis small hand reaches out towards the doorbell and gradually he comes closer and closer, until finally his fingers find the button and I hear the faint sound of a doorbell chiming. Immediately the wings slow down as he rapidly lowers himself back onto his feet. He rolls his shoulders and the wings fold in on themselves and disappear between the folds of his heavy overcoat.
IndentI watched this, completely breathless. Apparently even jehovah's witnesses have a need to evolve. How ironic.
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