Shift

ShifT By Max Quayle

Chapter 1: The Elegant Order

David stood erect, back to the muted roll of the ebbing tide. The constant breeze reminded him of the sheer mass and barely bridled power of the deep. He loved the ocean, especially at night. It was the smell, the night wind brought scents from places where you could drop Mt. Everest and watch the sea simply close behind her. He thought of the tide as a pushing force and the silent depths as one pulling, tonight he stood poised between them. It was the night of his ordination. David was a man who never wondered what he would become, he only strove to discover where, when and how. Tonight two of these three questions were answered: Here, and now. ‘How’ was unavoidably next. He braced himself as the breeze stepped up a notch, and then they started to come. Men came, ten of them. One at a time, their forms came into his view. He was reminded of how utterly typical they seemed…Methodically they came and stopped, a pace away from David. He breathed in sharply, the sea breathed out. The men were from many back grounds, and held diverse occupations but tonight they were here with one identical purpose.

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As they gathered around him in a circle, an electric feeling shot through David’s body…this was correct, he thought, he had always known he was chosen, and would one day be set apart… the circle closed tighter; each of the ten stretch out their right hand and laid it upon his shoulders, upper chest, neck and head. Each man spoke affirmation of what David knew was meant to be. Each with his head raised to the black tapestry of the night sky. “I pass this mantle to you…” said a large man with strangely small hands. “Upon you is laid the strength of legions…” chanted a slight man with spectacles and a tight, neat goatee. “You are hereby announced…” proclaimed a heavy set man “Go forth,” intoned one, with a voice deep and sure. David felt heat, like he was connected to each of these men by a ribbon of fire; he began to break sweat—beads formed on his brow, and he could feel dampness from his chest beginning to seep through his white linen shirt. “…this night, you are set apart from others…” rasped a dark haired man with an angular jaw. “…you are chosen,” growled a dark complected figure, who seemed out of place, and a bit nervous. “Lead the truth seekers—find your place.” spoke an older gentleman wearing a scarlet robe; he was the only man dressed out of norm. The robe was cinched tightly about his middle with a black silk sash, accenting a powerful triangular build. He raised his careworn face to the night sky and slowly bowed his head along the side of his out

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stretched arm. As he spoke the others became silent, and slowly, one by one, likewise bowed down their heads facing David. David was enraptured; this was indeed the greatest night of his life; when the accumulation of many strange scenes—which had played out in his past—finally pointed towards his destiny. He felt a surge of inner strength and stood firm, shoulders squared, letting the thrill of the ceremony wash over, about and through him. The robed man sank gracefully to one knee, letting his hand, which had been upon David’s forehead, slowly trace the profile of his face and neck. As his right knee touched the sand, his hand drew across David’s chest and passed lightly over his midriff, hips and groin. David felt as though he were erupting, rising upward as all of the ten followed the aged leader in carefully drawing their hands down from where they had rested. It was like birth, like a first living moment. His mind became aware of a new fire, a new passion, a sureness and direction unlike any thing previously revealed: Clarity. This is power, he thought. The men slid their hands lastly across David’s bare feet and silence cloaked the gathering. The muted crush of the low tides ebb could be heard again, steady, sure and right. As the intoxication of the ritual began to ebb in waves not unlike the tide, David dropped slowly to his knees, bowed his head and remained still. The men withdrew from the circle and walked by various paths through the dunes, away from the beach leaving him alone with the stars, the surf, and one single purpose: to carry on and spread a great truth to the unenlightened.

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Chapter 2: Petals in the wind

“Leave me alone” Deborah hissed, glaring at Johnny. She felt trapped, scared and alone. Johnny had been out with the ‘good ole boys’, and her suspicions were that they had graduated from cold beers to something much more dangerous. Johnny’s face, sunburned and distant, softened and his eyes seemed to clear a bit, he stepped back a pace. Relieved, Deborah realized he wasn’t at hitting stage, yet. Her hand rose involuntarily to the right side of her face, where a soft, darkened bruise lay. The slowly fading trace of the backhand she had received last weekend. “Now just relax honey, I aint’ gonna hurt you.” Deborah’s shoulders relaxed a little as she remembered a trace of the man she had met on a runaway flight from New Hampshire five years ago. He was so sure and smooth and the slow, southern drawl had disarmed and disrobed her completely. Now she had two beautiful sons by this man, and was witnessing his rapid decline from moderate to heavy drinker, to –what, she did not know, but she knew his appetite for both money and free time had tripled and his warmth and attraction to her had dwindled in direct proportion. Only a trace…she watched him with catlike intensity as he reached for her purse. “All’s I need is one of them twenties I gave you on Friday,” Johnny said, with too much oil, “I owe Chuck for a favor he did me, and he’s outside waitn’.”

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Deborah knew how tight money was, and tried to play out the ways this discussion could end. Fear rose up, in her like a mist, clouding her mind, and obscuring train of her thought. “Here, here’s your damn twenty,” Deborah spat, “I don’t know anything about Chucks’ favors, but I can’t go on waitin’ on you and raisin these boys while yer out doin’ whatever you well please.” Anger tore away the cloud of doubt and fear as his lie hung in the air between them. She flung the carefully folded bill at him, and continued, “Johnny Lee Blair, this is it. If you take off again there won’t be a trace of me or your boys when you git home.” She was amazed at how deeply a southern twang had corrupted her northeast precision. What had she become? A southern housewife to a no account dog. Johnny revealed his most polished mustached smile, reached out with a slightly shaky hand towards the green bill, which had come to rest on the old kitchen table right beside a stack of late bills, and said “I’ll be back…” he tried to meet her eyes, but couldn’t raise them above the ends of Deborah’s long black hair, which flowed from her rigid neck and spilled fully across her chest. He turned his back to her and left out into the warm southern night. A tear coursed its way slowly down Deborah’s face. She softly walked toward the boys’ bedroom, shoulders hanging low and neck bent. Outside their room, she paused. How does it happen so fast? She thought. She felt like happiness was only ever portioned to her in fleeting passes, like the gorgeous hue of a ripe sunset that doesn’t last even long enough to describe. Inside Deborah was torn: Though she had not expected to become a blushing bride and youthful mother in so short a time, something deep within her knew it

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was right. Hadn’t she seen the pure joy in the eyes of her sons as they clamored around her, eager for stories and questions, and answers? Weren’t there moments in the not so distant past when she felt she would just burst with pride and love for her handsome husband? Was it her? Could she be in the wrong place doing the right thing at the wrong time? Time ebbed away as her mind recalled days in her small hometown. Her childhood flashed in soft pastels as she recalled home and safety. Then moving through adolescence, her mind showed her only highlights; first kiss, partying, prom night, ‘busyness’…Her parents came into view, a structured and able minded couple with vastly differing love. Her father; austere and unyielding, he executed fatherhood like a military assignment, portioning out his affection like parcels according to a schedule. But he was there, after all…at least near bedtime. The image of her Mom filled her eyes with tears, so proud, so driven in work, and home upkeep. Deborah had never found another woman on par with her. Her younger brother, the constant rebel; always pushing, pushing everyone away. He seemed so driven, but never actually finished anything. She had to smile as she remembered his excitement to discover that she smoked and was into sneaking out at night. The night they slipped out together and hurried through darkened streets to her boyfriend’s house anticipating something new…was it sex? Drugs? And then she knew:Freedom. For her freedom was essential. It was the reward for all the petty lies and sneaking moments: To spread her wings and take to the free air, to place a seal upon her own destiny, to run with the pack or not. She loved the feeling of

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freewill. Not like now…now, she felt caged, tricked and disregarded. Where had it gone, to whom had she entrusted her precious will? Tired from the intensity of Johnny’s lie, she succumbed to three more soft sobs. Deborah pressed lightly against the thin, hollow door. The door cracked, and then squealed almost inaudibly as it swung into the small, dark room. As she peered into the darkness, her mind began to race. At first it stumbled, tripping over feelings of doubt, fear of insecurity, and loyalty. But then, it began to run freely, unfettered. She envisioned herself driving the old ‘67 dodge dart. She smiled; it had belonged to an old spinster woman from Johnny’s hometown. The ancient woman had driven it twice a week for 30 years; A wedding gift from Johnny. It seemed nearly flawless when she had gotten it, brightly waxed white with matching interior, three-speed shift on the dash… How she loved that car. It was a far worse for wear now—still ran, but tended to stall up hills, the steering rack had grown loose over time and the posi-traction just didn’t grab like it once did. She remembered when Johnny skidded off the road late one night, cracking a panel and putting out one headlight. Next day, he had snapped the key off in the ignition, and then quickly taught her to start it by carefully laying a screwdriver across the solenoid. She had taken it all in stride, as if it were par for the course. After several more careless mistakes, Deborah had begun to suspect that though it was given to her, she really didn’t have much say in how it was used. With a sad smile Deborah realized that her car was a lot like her marriage… “Momma…” six-year old Elijah whispered, “is he gone?”

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“Yes, honey…” she soothed, carefully closing the bedroom door behind her, “you rest, everything’ll be all right in the mornin’” “Momma.” he spoke, in a voice rich with sleep. “Yes, Elijah?” “I love you.” Deborah’s heart swelled, she loved her boys with more love than she had ever thought possible before Johnny had made her a mother. “Be strong, little man. Good night.” “G’night.” Elijah exhaled the word and as he did, Deborah watched as all tension fled his small form and the night reclaimed his mind. She glanced over at Aaron, who was not quite three. He stirred and breathed a long deep breath. He murmured a soft word in an unknown tongue that could only mean peace, and slipped deeper into sleep. Deborah withdrew, softly closing the door. They are my freedom now, she thought. They believe me. Freedom born in the innocence of my sons. She felt a yearning brush her will…Freedom. A rush of emotion dance across her mind as the old passion flared, she still loved freedom most. Suddenly, she saw headlights spill across the window at the end of the hall. She felt her breath, sharp in her throat, her heartbeat doubled. Johnny’s back, she thought, and as her hand rose she forced it down. The light faded as it always did when a late night passer wove slowly around the sharp hook in the road out front. Relieved but angered at her jumpiness, she took three sure steps toward and Johnny’s bedroom. She felt calmness settle over her. Deep inside she knew exactly what to do.

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Chapter 3: Chaos

After some time, David arose and brushed the sand from his slacks. He was alone; in fact he had been the only one on the beach for nearly an hour. As he stood, his mind reeled and his eyes were filled with lights and stars. “Wow!” He coughed, as he caught his balance. Time, for a moment, ceased to be. His forebrain throbbed, in time with his heartbeat and his knees became weak. David steeled himself against the sudden head rush, and then, following a deeper than conscious urge, he stayed with it, embraced the light headed feeling and tried to envision himself as he stood there. In his mind he placed his vantage from above the scene on the beach. He looked down upon a man standing unsurely in the sand. He consciously willed the man to stand erect, and watched as he did. David then surveyed the rolling surf, the tall grasses near the dunes and finally let his gaze pass out across the face of the deep. He was aware of himself, mortal and human but for a brief instant, he felt invincible – like a God. “What a rush,” he rubbed his eyes to clear the scattered remains, and tinges of light from them. His head lightened, eyes focused and he began to make his way through the dunes toward a tall clump of sea grass that was growing by the road. The peculiarity of the perspective shift did not startle him. Dallin had explained that the sensation of being able to master the “outer man” might take that form. Inside he was excited, and he quickened his pace.

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“I can’t wait to tell Molly,” he said, to no one. David saw Dallin’s brown Oldsmobile ahead; he took a few more steps and then paused, with his hand on the roof. Slowly, a smile split his face from ear to ear. “Yes!” he hissed the word sharply as if he had just landed the job of his dreams. From where he stood he could see far off lights, twinkling in the dark of the night. He thought he could reach out and pluck them, like so many gems in an ebony cave. He felt buoyant, powerful; rare. He had been carefully prepared for this night by members of the Order, but the real thing, the actual ceremony, had surpassed even Dallin’s dramatic explanation. David felt flawless. The image of his wife, Molly, came to his mind. David knew that he had better head for home. He climbed behind the wheel of Dallin’s car. They had driven together, but, as David had been told, he would be leaving alone. He started the engine, it sounded smooth and powerful. He put the car in gear and pulled away from the side of the road. Over the light breeze he heard the high, shrill call of gulls embalmed in the neutral, steady roll of the retreating tide. David turned for home. As he drove through the night his thoughts shifted from the elation he had felt on the beach, back through the past twelve months of his life. It was about a year ago that he had met Dallin Protiss. An odd man, he recalled thinking, old to the eye but young and spry in his movements. They had met in a parking lot, outside of the grocery store…

David had been painting his parent’s house that day and paint was encrusted on his fingers and wrists. He had decided to read through the newspaper before going into the store when an old man approached him.

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“You paint?” he said, in a voice distant but clear. David nodded, slightly, and looking up was suddenly captured by the deepest, most intense blue eyes he had ever beheld. “You read?” pressed the man. “I...I do. Not at the same time of course,” David added, with sort of an off balanced smile. The man grinned broadly, David watched as he revealed two flawless rows of large, strong teeth. It seemed to him that their whiteness outshone the puffy white clouds floating in the summer sky behind. He noticed a strong jaw, wired taut, and set in a manner of challenge, but he did not feel threatened. “You will come to my house and paint, and I will read to you.” “Ah… I’m…Sure,” stammered David, He felt strangely warm toward the elder stranger. “Where do you live?” “Call on me, and I will show you the way”, he produced a small businesslike card, void of anything except a phone number. As the man pressed it into his painted hand, David noted that it was a local number. The man nodded curtly, and turned away, walking purposefully across the lot. As David watched him go, an unusual clarity settled over his mind, I’ll give him a call, he thought, and tucked the card into the cup holder of his old Datsun B210…

David smiled as he drove on through the night, now in a neat new Oldsmobile, not flashy, but powerful and sure on the road: The old man had certainly jolted him out of a rather uneventful summer. His memory resumed:

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…After procrastinating calling for almost a month, David had picked up the phone one evening and pressed the numbers. That voice was there again, slightly muted but unmistakable, “David, I am happy you called,” it said, “you are ready to paint.” David knew this was not a question “I…guess so, um, who are you?” “My name was Dallin, I live at 14 Chesterfield, nine o’clock tomorrow will be fine, David. Goodnight.” “Right…” David heard himself respond. He was surprised to again find himself off balance. The line went dead. As he hung up the phone he realized, he couldn’t recall having given the man his name. As he lay in bed, reflecting on the singularity of the call, the words ‘I was Dallin’, replayed in his mind over and over…

Another short smile crossed his lips as he drove on, of course, that made sense now, he thought. Dallin had rapidly risen from parking lot stranger to intimate spiritual adviser, and groomer. And it did seem that they had somehow known each other previously, though they both admitted they did not recall when or where. Dallin had shown David another side of life, of himself – an uncluttered view. He had taught him the perspective shift of looking at one’s life and interactions from above, not like a puppeteer, more as an agent for a greater cause than self. Through this shift, a man could control himself, and find the best action to take. Mostly, he had delivered to David a confirmation, the undeniable acceptance that promoted his thinking to a ‘not of the world’ view.

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David realized he was gripping the steering wheel tightly, and could feel that some tension was upon him, Dallin had taught him that all things were of two natures; fear or faith, and that a man could easily discern, if he traced a feeling or inspiration to it’s roots, or as Dallin would say: “think of who, or what might conceive and bear a thought, even as a child is born. By its nature know its source.” David paused, and releasing his grip on the wheel realized the problem. He pulled the car off onto the shoulder and turned the ignition off. He was on a rather bland stretch of highway, and as he stepped from the car, a billboard caught his eye. Looking down from on high he saw himself seeing it, and chose to proceed. Only then did the image of smiling people, reaching toward a cross shrouded in light, register on his mind. He smiled inwardly at his flawless perspective switch. I will never be led astray; he thought as he turned his back on the ad for a local religious revival camp, and slipped noiselessly between two bushes some 10 yards off the road. There he knelt, hands clasped, and remained silent for some time. The night sounds slowly began to register on his mind; a scurrying ahead and to the right, crickets loudly proclaiming the encroaching dawn, and the softest whisper of a starving breeze surrounded him. He turned his thoughts inward and again rose up to view the scene from above, he observed the figure of a humble man seeking peace and guidance among the mulberry bushes—To the east the fringe of first light began to creep into the sky, both ways the road lay silent.

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Chapter 4: Homefire Burning

“Mom?” “Yes, Chad, what is it?” Replied Molly, as her face imperceptibly tightened. “You think Dad’s Okay?” His eyes were wide, questioning, and the brows nearly met over his father’s nose; she felt his uneasiness. The last two months had been very tense for him. His dad, usually engaged with him and his life, had been absent. Not, missing, she reflected, just not all here. She paused before answering: “Your father knows what he’s about, do you think he’s all right?” She raised her own brows and sensed that they, too, nearly met. “Yeah, he’s fine; Dallin said it would be a late night. I just miss him.” “Me too, c’mon, let’s go over your homework,” she smiled and added, “then we’ll have some ice cream.” Chad was at the kitchen table so fast that, Molly wondered if his shadow made the trip. He is such a life-filled boy, she thought, as she settled down next to him at the old family table. As he read an essay for his English class, she was reminded of her husband. He had charm, and enough charisma to slip away with her a decade ago. Now he was, well, shifting was the word that came to mind. Chad stumbled over one of his more

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complicated passages, and they both laughed a little. She tried to suggest a clearer expression but new that her verbiage was awkward and rambling. They both knew but neither mentioned that Dad would have a perfect suggestion. Seeing his brow furrow a bit, confirmed a nagging urge that she ought to talk with his Father about their son. Were they doing right by him as parents? Was there more she could do? Could he be home a little more? Drawn back to Chad’s clear voice, she gave him her attention. As he spoke his final sentence, two words not in the essay spontaneously erupted: “Ice cream?” “You bet!” She grinned. Each heaped a bowlful, Chad with chilled whipped cream and a banana, she with an oozing dollop of hot fudge and nothing else. The evening air moved freely through the small kitchen windows, beckoning them to step outside and take it in. Chad banged out the screen door and tossed himself up on the weathered railing on their old farmers porch, while his mother stepped to a wicker bound stool, faded and worn. They talked about the stars, which beaded the silkiness of the nights blanket, glimmering and bright. “Dallin said the earth is just one of infinite worlds, Mom, each one with really special people on it. Do you believe him? “I don’t quite know why, Chad, but somehow, everything that Mr. Protiss has told us seems right and true. He seems to speak without doubt. But, he can’t know about other worlds. I’d bet he’s really hoping its true, and knows you want it too.” She winked at him and Chad smirked a little, and pulled his head back. A soft quit rested between them and while they ere licking the last sweet drops a breeze came up, gusting suddenly, and caused the trees around their small cape to shiver. They both looked into its face; their

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eyes teared a bit, reacting to the sudden dryness. There was a chill in the tail of the wind, and as it passed between them, an unmistakable scent lay heavily in its wake. Chad glanced over toward his Mom “Do you smell the ocean?” “That is strange, I haven’t ever smelled the sea breeze this far inland,” her voice quivered just a hint. “Ahem,” clearing her throat she continued, “must be a storm coming in strong off the coast…” “Maybe it’s a tidal wave” said Chad, with a catch in his young voice. “Let’s head in, school in the morning”. She tousled his rusty hair as she went in, “Dad will be just fine”. He rose and followed her in, shut the door tightly and with it severed the cool shadow from the breeze. He reported for his evening kiss, grimaced and flew upstairs like a kite torn loose. As she watched him go, she thought, his fathers boy, no doubt; except for that grimace. Smiling, she rinsed the bowls and set the kitchen in order. She reflected upon her last conversation with her husband:

“Tonight’s the night,” he had said, almost giddily. “I am meeting Dallin and the others up at Cranes Neck. Dallin and I need to arrive first and wait on the beach.” “So you have decided?” “Yes, I am ready”. “Do you really understand what you are agreeing to?” “Have you ever known me not o think things through?”

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“That, David is a question, not an answer,” Molly shot him a mock glare. He answered with a wide grin and then, more seriously said, “yes, I do. Molly, it feels right. I’ve been lookin’ for guidance a long time. Dallin seems to really see things as they are. I like him, I want to be like him.” He paused, then looking directly into her eyes said,

“I want to fear less, and try harder, and know more.” “It just seems odd, to me…Being initiated into a group that only meets only once, and that meeting is to dissolve the Order.” “That’s how it spreads so quickly, we each find someone share the insights, and place them on the path. I am sure we see each other again sometime…” “Are you sure? Dallin did say that would not be likely, and remember how he said you wouldn’t recognize him any way? ...Kind of weird. But I have to admit, you seem really happy lately.” At least when the topic has been this group, she thought, but couldn’t quite say. “He also told me to tell you not to wait up, I’ll be quite late.” “David?” “What is it?” “I love who you are, you know, inside…deep. Change your hair, skin, weight I don’t care but don’t mess with that great guy I fell in love with.” “Fell? And I thought you were still falling!” The mild sarcasm stung a bit, and upon seeing Molly’s face droop a bit, David reached over and took her hands in his. “I love you more now than ever, Honey. This will be the best thing yet, I promise.”

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“I love y…”

The goodbye kiss had been sudden, and very personal. She had felt herself melting under the rays of his influence. “Tell Chad I’ll be fine. I’ll find him a memory.”

How she longed for her husband now, she sighed, and climbed the squeaky stairs. Molly paused at the door to her only son’s room, and peeked in. For a moment she stood still watching him wonder what she would say. “G’night” “‘Night, Mom.” “I love you.” “Too!” She pulled the door quietly to, as she turned she caught her reflection in the hall mirror. Still pretty young she thought, gently feeling the care on her slender face with a hand; but young and pretty, hmmm…Not sure. Thank goodness for light switches. She snapped the hall light off and felt her way to the master bedroom.

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Chapter 5: Vermillion Trace

Deborah was in go mode for the rest of the night. As occasional car headlights swept the window at the end off the hall, she became less startled, and as dawn approached was actually convinced that Johnny couldn’t stop her, even if he came home. She was leaving. Packing had been hard. Deborah, a woman of minor clutter, was used to keeping the things she had, mostly because their acquisition had been purposeful. She had yard sailed two years running to find the perfect kitchen curtains; a crisp white set, with gathered hem and just a trace of lace. They looked out of place, in the small kitchen window, and beckoned to come with her. She reflected on the hours she had watched the boys through the window while preparing meals; a perfect frame for memories, she thought and moved on. As she passed the side table near the hall, a turn of the century English biscuit tray, collapsible and meticulously oiled, her heart rose up; it had come from her mother’s mother, and would not be replaced. She swallowed a tear, turned away, and hurried down the hall to the bathroom. Into a small cardboard box she placed the essentials and nothing more; toothbrushes, paste, soap, toilet paper and an old leather ditty bag which easily fit a small bottle of shampoo, deodorant and a facecloth. Before leaving, she paused, and walked over to the stack of nice towels. Her mother had taught her that there must always be a

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crisply folded set of towels for guests and that no-one else was to use. She realized it didn’t make sense, at least, her guests rarely bathed, but it felt right. Pausing, she reached between the second and third towels and pulled out a small neat stack of folded bills: Mostly twenties, with one fifty-dollar bill on top. She slipped them into the hip pocket of her faded jeans and hurried down the hall. Deborah heard soft sounds drifting through the thin door to her son’s room; the boys were stirring. They loved the morning, and she knew that explanation would be best after some miles were behind them. Quietly, she stole into their small bedroom. She had already packed their clothes, but Deborah knew some toys had to come. After selecting three or four of their favorites she stood, and backed toward the bedroom door. She looked at both of them, willing them to sleep just a bit longer. Curled up under their blankets the young boys looked like a pair of lima beans, still in the pod. Deborah suddenly stiffened as she heard a car door close. She spun around and watched a jagged trace of light glance down the hall as the vehicle backed down the short drive and sped off up the road. Her face tightened, her breath came short… “Johnny…” she gasped, her hand rising to the old bruise. She stood for a few moments, as if paralyzed. Her mind reeled, she could think of nothing at all. Slowly, Deborah regained motion, and carefully stepped out into the hall. As she closed the door, she saw her hand shaking about the knob. Anger flashed, and for a moment she did not fear. There she stood, erect and perfectly balanced between hot, sudden anger and the cold, grasping claw of fear. She, teetered, tried to pull herself into the furnace of her anger, but then, overpowered by her own doubt, she faltered and fell

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helplessly into the familiar clutch of uncertainty, and was afraid. She carelessly tossed the toys into a nearby chair. A booted foot banged loudly on the rusted metal of the screen door, and Johnny spilled unevenly into the kitchen. He looked confused, Deborah thought, as she watched his head slowly turn. As he surveyed the organized pile of belongings on the table, she hoped, for once, that he would be too messed up to understand. Suddenly, his head snapped up, and he looked right at her, as she stood just inside the hall. Clearly, he had not expected her to be awake, she thought. As he looked at her, panic began its suffocating trip from her gut to her head. “You goin’ someplace?” he snarled, as if daring her to admit she was. “Now, Johnny” Deborah began, “I told you…” “Shut up” he snapped, “I’m speakin’” As he spoke, Johnny rounded the table, one arm outstretched toward her and the other leaning heavily on a chair back. “I work hard, an this is what I git?” He stifled a belch, and passed gas audibly, as he closed the distance between them. Deborah didn’t know whether to laugh or scream; Hate and fear mingled and overran her mind with confusion. She shrank into the plaster wall, but refused to let her hand reach up to the side of her face. She didn’t know what to do, but at least, she thought, I am between him and the boys… “Johnny, she said in a harsh whisper, “The boys, are still sleepin’” For the first time that night, he looked her straight in the eye. She noticed the dullness that had become familiar as of late, it was like a cloud hiding the man she once

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knew and loved. Who are you? She nearly said. And even as she thought the words, anger welled up within her frame. She took a deep breath, held his gaze and in a controlled tone said: “I, am leaving…” Her last word hung there, floating in the air between them like the echo of a gunshot. Deborah watched as he slowly drew the fingers of his left hand into a tight fist. She wanted to run, scream, push him, but it was too late. She stood motionless, petrified. His clenched hand slammed against the right side of her head with a stunning blow. He struck her so hard that her head careened into the wall beside her. When it did, Deborah’s modest golden earring lodged deeply in the plaster of the wall. Stars flashed and she felt her knees begin to buckle. The room heaved unnaturally, and she began to slide down the wall. She tried to lift herself, but couldn’t. Johnny stumbled past her and kicked open the door to their bedroom. Deborah groaned; the side of her head felt on fire. She felt, or heard, the sickening sound of flesh tearing as the weight of her body pulled the ring right through the lobe of her left ear. Deborah slumped to the floor, conscious but unable to move. Blood splashed on her knee with a rhythmic “plip, plip” and spread over her jeans in a darkening blotch. From the boys’ bedroom, she heard Elijah’s small voice. “Momma?”

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Chapter 6: Ignoble Flush As he drove along, David could feel the warmth of the rising sun gathering on his right temple and cheek, it jogged a memory he had of an afternoon he had spent with Dallin. He had been painting on the old man’s porch, and it had been a very warm day. “Do you mean all of us, I mean each of us, has not only the potential to be like God, but be a God?” David’s eyes were tight, and his mouth hung open just a little too much. Dallin smiled, His azure eyes were alight with pleasure, “David?” he spoke, softly. “Do you remember the last time you were uncomfortable, in your own skin, I mean?” Slowly, David turned back to the column he had been brushing. “Yes,” he thought for a moment, “just last night… actually, it’s sort of been happening a lot, lately.” Even as he said the words, David knew that Dallin knew it already. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, and tried to stay focused on his work. Dallin continued, “It should come as no surprise then, when I tell you David, that your skin is constantly regenerating, millions of tiny cells brush off and are swept away while you are working, sleeping bathing, all of the time”. They both paused, and as they did, a soft breeze whispered across the porch, it cooled his left side but on his right, David could feel the intense heat of a strong morning sun as it climbed into the day.

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“Your inner man, experiences this shedding as well. So, as the outer skin falls away it reveals a new layer, one that was there all the time, just waiting to be exposed… David, the growth and expansion of the soul is like this. You are uncomfortable in your skins, both inner and outer. You simply never considered the source of that constant feeling, inwardly…” A smile spread fully across Dallin’s face, “Until now.” As he finished, Dallin took in a long, deep breath. David could see his barrel-like chest lift and was struck by the youthful swell of his carriage. It became apparent, as he stood there in the shade of his own home, that Dallin could easily have painted his own house. The memory was a fond one, and David grinned openly. One thing was certain, Dallin had always been able to teach him at the level he was ready for. One day, he mused, I may actually teach him something. The sun began its predictable journey as David pulled into his driveway, turned off the ignition, and finished his own. He let his head lay back against the rest, as his mind reviewed all that had happened. I wonder what is next, he thought… and, as if in answer, exhaustion overcame his mind, and he slipped deeply into sleep.

An awareness of soft light spilled into the deep parts of David’s mind, and, though colorless, he could see a landscape seeping from a formless void, taking its shape from the darkness itself like blots of ink on a tissue. They rose up and fashioned themselves into familiar feeling, but as yet unidentifiable shapes. As the light slowly increased the contours of the faces of the ones he loved took the place of the curious shapes. David realized that they were not looking at him, each steadily clarifying image, was set, so as to reveal only a profile. He observed, as the final details of Molly’s deep brown eyes, his son’s freckles and the wrinkles at the corners of Dallin’s bright eyes fell into place, the light was coming from behind him.

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He turned his head slowly, but the faces he had seen whisked away as if they had been made of dust, and spinning around his face came to a rest exactly opposite the source of the light. The countenance of a woman, began to take shape within a dazzling shower of clean light…Glorious, piercing eyes looked right at him. The light now struck his face and neck as warmth, and seemed to emanate from her. She was pleading, a symphony of pain pouring from those eyes. He felt drawn, reached out to her, to help, to hold, to… As his finger brushed the outermost feather of her brow, she smiled and as she did the warmth flowing from her increased, it was heat now, radiating as if she were a fire and he was too close. He stopped, holding his hand still, balanced between the confusion of want and need. Slowly, David let his fingers trac the curve of the strangers jaw. She stepped towards him, and David welcomed the heat of her nearness. He stared into her eyes and felt as though he were falling. As he gazed shadow dimmed her features, and came to rest across her face. David felt her heat lessen, but linger still, warming him. Then, suddenly, the dream and all of it’s light blew out, like a butterfly in a gale. “Hey, are you trying to get a better tan?” Molly smiled, as she motioned to David to open the door. “Wow, I was dreaming,” He stammered, and blinked twice. He thought he could still see the afterimage of the woman in a fleeting negative before him. Once the door was opened he asked, “What time is it, any way?” “About ten,” She swung herself, hips first around the door and reached out for his hand. “C’mon inside, I’ll make you breakfast.” He had never seen Molly look so lovely, but even as the thought came, he felt a sudden, brilliant afterimage of the woman from the dream filling his mind’s eye. He dropped his eyes and put a hand out onto the open door. “What is it,” Molly asked, resting her right hand upon his shoulder, “Are you okay?”

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“Nothing, nothing,” He said, but it wasn’t - he was thrilled, even his pulse was up, and to his own astonishment, he was wide awake. “Too much sun, not enough sleep,” The lie seemed harmless, he always shared dreams with Molly, in fact so did she, but this one was different, personal he thought, and tried to dismiss it from his mind. Inside they spent the morning talking, or at least David talked, very rapidly and in tones of growing excitement and intensity. He had related most of the ceremony and the odd stop at the roadside before he realized that Molly had not said one word since he had begun. She was just sitting there. Suddenly, anger flashed through his body, he stiffened and really thought he was going to lash out at her. Reaching within himself, he once again chose mentally to view the scene from above. In his mind’s eye he quickly saw the problem. From above it was clear to him that Molly’s head was pointing at an angle to one side of his sitting form. She’s not even looking at me…anger welled again, and this time he saw his form below stiffen. Knowing instinctively that a fight or even harsh words would do much damage, David urged his lower self to becalm, and the form visibly did. Once he had regained control, he took a deep breath, looked at his wife, and said, “So, what do you think?”

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Chapter 7: A Thin White Line

Elijah rose and padded slowly over to the bedroom door. he turned the knob and pulled the light door inward. The first thing he saw was his momma’s face looking back at him, she smiled, but slowly. Then Elijah saw the blood. He hurried to the bathroom and wet a hand towel. He wrung it slightly, and turned to hurry back to Deborah, lying there, still, against the blood smeared wall. Hearing all of this, but unable to act, Deborah listened to the water he had left running in the bathroom. The steady flow seemed to clear her head slightly. She watched as her oldest boy hurried to her side, and ever so gently placed the cool cloth over her ear. His pulse beat powerfully; she could see a rapid flutter on the base of his neck, near his small collarbone. But, when she looked to his eyes, she found them deeply focused, and calm. “Momma,” he whispered, “yer bleedin’ awful bad”. His voice hitched a bit and Deborah watched as his calm, beautiful eyes filled with tears. “I know, honey,” she mumbled, but the words came garbled and thick in her throat. “You…are my strong boy, right?” she coaxed, slowly reaching her hand up and placing it upon his shoulder. He nodded, as a tear spilled from his eye. He brushed it away roughly with a pajama arm and tried to look brave. She groaned slightly and placed her left hand over his, on her ear. It burned like fire, and she winced. Elijah pulled his hand away and took her right hand in his. Deborah

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noticed how similar their two hands were; slender, long and clever. She squeezed it lightly and they sat together, holding each other …

Deborah snapped awake. She could feel the heat of the Georgia morning sun filling the hallway behind her. She opened her eyes, and winced as the dazzling morning light sent shockwaves of pain filled color through her mind. All of her feeling seemed to emanate from her wounded ear. She felt its swollen mass like a gourd, hanging off the side of her head. The difference was that each and every hair follicle seemed to take turns sending an impulse of pain into her mind. Little by little, her memory began to reshape. As it came back, she felt a surge of urgency call to her from deep within. She tried to rise to her knees, but found she couldn’t, they were leaden. Oh no, she thought, have I been completely broken? Slowly looking down Deborah saw the reason; Elijah was curled up in a tight little ball, perched carefully between her thighs. They had fallen asleep, together. “Johnny.” She said, suddenly. “Where is he…?” She listened carefully; the house was silent. She slid backwards, with much effort, out from under her son’s body, and stilled herself before trying to stand up. She reached up the wall with her right hand and pressed hard into the floor with her left. Woozily, she turned onto her knees; her stomach tightened, and her throat filled with bile. “Ugghh” she gargled, but continued through a heavy wave of nausea and got to onto her knees. Elijah slid softly to the floor and began to uncurl and stretch. Deborah knew she had to act fast. She took a deep breath, leaned back and tried to stand with all of her might, the hallway pitched up, then settled and she found herself upright, leaning

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heavily on the bathroom door frame. She took a halting step into the bathroom, and as she did, vomit sprayed from her mouth. The force propelling it was so strong that it knocked over the soap dish, and splashed across the still running faucet. She steadied herself with the edge of the chipped countertop, and as she rested the waves of stomach pressure subsided. Deborah turned from the mirror with out so much as a glimpse, and stepped more steadily into the hall. She felt the dried mass of hair and blood near her right ear, but couldn’t face her reflection yet. Her left side throbbed deeply like the sudden seal of slammed door. She felt the raised mound about her temple, and tears welled in her bloodshot eyes. As her mind cleared she mentally listed her urgent tasks: Pack food… Load car…quietly, she grimaced, and get the boys. As quickly as she could, Deborah filled a small cooler with basics; milk, bologna, cheese and a few apples. She placed it next to the other things on the kitchen table. As she did so, her head cleared and she found she was able to see the plan she had before Johnny came home. The wound still throbbed, as if to remind her of what he had done to her… again. Deborah’s jaw tightened and sent a thousand steel needles into the side of her head. The sensation shocked her; she reached up again to the wound and expected to see fresh blood on her fingers. She saw nothing but a slightly shaking hand; with effort, she pulled her focus back to the plan. The following hour passed as a blur. Deborah had been able to determine that Johnny was indeed home. He had passed out cold on their bed, boots on, and there she intended to leave him: No note, no apology, and no trace. She finished loading the Dart with no thought but to silence. Each time she returned to the getaway vehicle, Aaron and

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Elijah, wide eyed in the back seat, would start, as if to speak. But, calmly, Deborah hushed them with a stern look and a single finger over her lips. They have each other, she told herself, as she went into the old raised ranch for the last time. She moved quietly over to the kitchen sink and slightly turned on the water. Stooping down, Deborah lightly tamped her new wound with a facecloth. She watched dispassionately, as the trickle of red chips and hair reduced to a slight pink stain. She drew her head up, out of the sink, stood up and collapsed to the ground.

...Colors fused; droplets of brilliant rainbow drenched the sky. Time wasn’t. Plying her way through the tangerine clouds of a perfect sunset, Deborah saw the ocean, lightly dotted with spray, unfurl before her eyes. At first she though she might be flying, but no, Looking down she felt, more than saw, a velvet tapestry interwoven with the essence of every green imaginable... ...Paradise, safety, peace... She felt her body as a perfect extension of her mind and stretched her hands out before her, as if trying to gather life itself into her breast. Deeply breathing Deborah now became aware of a fragrant breeze gently cooling her bare skin, not cold, only present. She felt like singing, and that her voice was about to roll from her throat as yet more color, when instead, she became aware of something else: It throbbed within her, deeply; a moving caress that left lingering sensations with each rise and fall. The intensity was fulfilling, and personal. She sank slowly to the carpet-like grass under her feet and curled her body into a small round ball. Lightly squeezing herself she found the throbbing sensation permeated further outward, from her core, it enclosed her vitals, her hips and with a light brush, crossed the deepest part of her. She felt a part of the rolling power - not wielding, not yielding - but containing, and mingling herself with it. She uncurled and spread herself fully open upon the high green place, naked, yet fully immersed in a safe warm pleasure. The power grew within her and began to seep toward her outer places; breasts, arms, legs. In its wake, it left her bobbing slowly on a sea of afterthrobs, some intense and others mild. As the sensations tingled over her

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back, and up to her neck, she innately knew it would over power her thoughts, she felt it enter the base of her mind... Glimmering stars erupted on an already pastel field of color and texture, she breathed in sharply and the lights blew out - like a butterfly in a gale. Less than an instant had passed, when Deborah’s eyes opened. She was confused, lying flat on her back, she was unaware that the white expanse which filled her eyes was her own unadorned kitchen ceiling. A very intimate feeling still coursed throughout her body, as if she had been… Suddenly, she heard steps in the hallway. Deborah froze; every muscle tightened. Slowly, the muted sound of Johnny relieving himself came to her ears. What do I do? She thought, she doubted her ability to jump up, run out the door and drive off, more so after the strange vision that had just passed. She rolled quietly to her knees and peeked between the kitchen chairs into the space where Johnny had smashed her last night. She watched, breathless, as his unstable shadow fell on the floor. Milliseconds seemed eternal as she waited to see his boot step into the kitchen. It did not. She heard him clump back to the bedroom and pour himself back into bed. The relief she felt was almost as stimulating as the sensation the dream had left with her. Now, wide awake, Deborah thought she understood. The power which had caressed her mind was her own strength, her will. She had witnessed a subconscious pep rally where in all of her faculties had tried to nourish her mind, and bruised thinking to a place from which she might actually break free from Johnny. Instinctively she knew that she would not have had the strength to leave had she not collapsed, regrouped and been present to watch Johnny’s shadow fade for the last time. Now, she thought there is no question: “I am outta here” she whispered, smiling.

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With new found stealth she padded down the old kitchen stair, cut across the lawn, stepped in front of her car and released the hood latch. She paused, looked back at her boys, and glanced up at the home where contentment had been abused, dwindled and perished. It was a moment in time, with her boys huddled in the foreground, her mind snapped a picture of her last view of the house, and tucked it away. She snatched up the worn old screwdriver, fired the willing engine, and slammed the hood down hard. She knew there was nothing to stop her now, and the feeling was like a flame, warming her in places long dormant and cold. She grinned as she slid behind the wheel, dropped the gearshift into go, and laughed out loud as she gunned the chariot down the drive, squealing around the sharp bend and out of sight. Had she cared to look back, she might have just seen, a pair of distant and confused eyes peering out of the bedroom window as she escaped; bloodshot, vacant and broken. It was the last time Johnny would ever look at her, again.

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Chapter 8: Inward Comportment

Molly sighed, deeply. Across the table, where her husband had been moments before, sat darkness. She had always known David to be polite and sincere if not a little clumsy with words. The words he had just used rolled around in her head, but she could find no place for them. They were simply out of character. He had stormed out of the kitchen of her hopes and into the den of her fears, without missing a stride. As always, Molly looked into her own actions, to see if she had somehow been the reason. Nothing. In fact, she recalled, suppressing several misgivings that arose during the animated report of his apparently earth shattering evening with Dallin. “Now,” she said aloud, softly, “that’s a little harsh…” It was true, she felt that her husband’s experiences had, as of late, certainly all been leading up to something, but somehow, if last night were that something, she was a little disappointed. Molly began to rise to go find David, but checked herself about halfway up, as she heard Chad come rippling down the stairs. The sound was of a single treaded thump somehow spread out as if he were stepping on each of the stairs all at once. Chad burst into the room in full color

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“hey Mom, there’s like a hundred crows in our yard” he inhaled, “ all at once, they are pecking at the ground, come quick” This last from a jaw cocked over his right shoulder as he passed her and assaulted the screen door with a sneakered foot. It banged hard open, and Molly resisted and urged to catch him up quick with a sharp comment about self control. Instead, she followed him out into the cool of the shaded porch. There she saw, and actually felt, the vibrations from easily fifty sharply darting black heads. They were beating out a crazy random pulsation on the side lawn; throwing dirt up and around themselves as if there was some mad race to dig farthest, fastest. “What are they after?” Molly squinted, trying to see their purpose. “I don’t know,” Chad replied slowly, and the abruptly shot:” Maybe there’s a tidal wave coming, and they know so they are warning their food supply to take shelter, that way they will have a ton of gushy worms to eat after the water gets absorbed.” He finished, out of breath and slumped down to watch. Standing in the shade watching the pounding of crow beaks, Molly felt a shiver envelop her. The tiny hairs on her arms and neck stood erect, and she crossed her arms, hoping to ward off the feeling of chill. Her mind slipped back to David’s recent eruption: “…I think…it sounds great. You were…ah, accepted, I guess?” she tried to smile genuinely – but could feel confusion, She had never really understood David’s affiliation with The Order. David jumped up from his seat, tipping it hard into the wall and raised both of his arms. “Haven’t you been listening? Didn’t you hear me?” He seemed to reach for the

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words. “I am the One, I have the mantle. It’s up to me what direction we go now… Molly, they believe in me.” That stung a touch – hadn’t she supported the weird all-hours meetings? And endured a longer than usual spate of minimal employment while her husband was primed, and tutored? – she did like Dallin, he had a peace about him that helped her accept all of this Order business… Things deteriorated quickly after that. Screeching out of the driveway David was who knows where. She watched the crows hammering until the dusk absorbed them in a cloud of dim. She and Chad walked back inside together, hand in hand – each with some fear for the future.

------------To Be Continued…--------------

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