From "The Devil of Light" by Gae-Lynn Woods

IN THE DANK, DENSE undergrowth near the river’s edge, where the foamy eddies swirl and the fetid mud and mosquitoes suck, a pair of dark eyes blinked at the scene unfolding by firelight. Their bluish whites and the reflection from their liquid surface were the only indication that human life was present. She was clad in black, and with the inky darkness of her skin had only to close her eyes to disappear. The acrid stench of urine was strong where the ghost had sprayed into the woods, a glistering stream arcing golden into the velvety night. Heart fluttering at her breast and eyes unfocused, she found the form in the clearing, an indistinct sliver woven into the fire’s kaleidoscopic glow; a devil made of light. A whining scream rose and her bleary eyes experienced a moment of clarity at the sound. He was familiar to her clouded brain, this upside down Jesus. The mournful call of a whippoorwill sliced through the horrible calm as the whine faded. Her thoughts and vision blurred and she uttered a silent, jumbled prayer begging mercy for the Christ-man suffering in her forest. Hiding beneath the next shrill shriek, she inched her stealthy retreat.