Chapter 14
Chapter 14
And He went a little beyond them, and fell on His face and prayed, saying, "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; yet not as I will, but as You will."
~Mathew 26:39~
The sound of running water woke him from the first peaceful sleep that he'd had in ages. His eyes fluttered and slowly opened. For a long moment, he just lay there staring up into the colored sky, the wind caressed his face, and the scent of flowers assaulted his senses.
Peace. Serenity.
For the first time in months, the agony that had been plaguing him was quiet, it felt non-existent. Almost as if it was never there. Slowly his eyes took in his surroundings.
Clouds drift at a gentle pace. He widened his eyes to take in the golden metalwork walls that reached toward the sky, realizing that he was not in the place he fell asleep he sighed in contentment, stretching his arms out, feeling the silkiness of water lap around him.
He lifted his right arm, bringing his hand into his field of vision. Golden water dripped from his fingertips and ran down his cheek. Where the water gathered on his hand, the outlining of symbols glowed faintly.
He stared at his hand, watching as the water dried and the markings faded away.
Sighing, he laid his hand back into the water and turned his head to the right. The golden wall bowed out around him in a circular pattern, glowing water cascading in rivulets down the intricate workings to pool upon the floor. He sat up, curious despite himself.
Clothes weighted down, soaked through. He looked to his left and saw that the wall continued around that way as well, the water glittering in the light of the sky. He stood up and started to walk the length. Hand trailing the designs, water lapping at his fingertips.
He continued to walk, splashing through the water, his eyes wide in wonder as the walls, floor and water sparkled a golden light. When he came full circle, he gasped as suddenly the walls began to move, stretching out water rising around his ankles.
The walls stilled as the golden metal began to form six archways, in them an altar rose from the floor before each.
Gasping he spun, attempting to keep all of what was happening within his sight.
Water dripped, and heat at his back caused him to spin around as a single olive tree rose from beneath the water, its branches bursting in a white flame.
A whisper.
Chuck.
From the corner of his eyes he could make out five shadows, one at each altar save one. Each was a different shape. Two in the shape of a ring, a cloth of some kind, a stick, and the shape of a boy.
Chuck.
There it was again. That name.
The fire brightened drawing his gaze once again.
Chuck.
The shadow of a great bird flapped lazily above the flame.
Chuck. Again it came. That name.
The fire burned brighter. Beckoning. Like a moth, he trudged through the water as it rose. Its golden sheen swallowing his doubts like it did his pain. The tree and its branches loomed ever closer.
Chuck. He was swimming now.
Great swoops of his arms as the tree and the water continued to rise. But for every stroke, he was that much farther away. The beautiful walls were melting, the white flame scorching them, they fell away revealing a dark abyss to which had no end.
The water continued to rise, just as it continued to fall off the edge of where the walls had been. Altars rise with the burning tree.
Chuck.
His arms were tiring and every stroke brought him that much closer to the edge as the branches sweltered ever hotter. Just a little more, he reached toward the flame. Its beckon was all-consuming. Pulsing in his skin like a living thing.
Tearing at his nerve endings desperately reaching, and then he was falling. Tumbling into the abyss. The visions slammed into him.
Serenity. Peace.
They were lost and there was only pain. He screamed.
Kripke's Orphan Home for Boys,
Kripke's Hollow
"Chuck!"
He woke with a gasp, his young body shooting up, hair and clothes sticking to him as if waterlogged. Head twisting this way and that. Desperately trying to understand where he was.
For a moment he was lost. Panic seized him as he took in his unfamiliar surroundings. This rusty bed, with its yellowing sheets and grimy comforter that had stained patches, was not his. The faded pine wood dresser that sat in the corner of the room with its gimpy drawer was not his either.
Neither was the chipped black desk with its single uneven chair. For a moment he was suspended in reality, until memories all but crashed into his head as he got a good look at the older-sounding voice that had called his name.
"Chuck! You Ok little man? You were having quite the nasty dream from the sounds of it." For a moment, Chuck thought of not answering.
Perhaps if he didn't answer then the old lady would disappear and his mother would magically appear still alive as if nothing had happened.
The stinging of his cheek and another call from the old woman shattered his delusion though.
"Chuck!" Rubbing his smarting cheek. Chuck leveled a glare rather impressive for one his age. "Well, no matter. Come. Up. Up. We have much work to do today. Since it is unlikely you will sleep again we can get a head start on it." He glowered at the nuisance.
Glaring at the door in the direction the women left through, Chuck reluctantly got out of bed to dress. Walking over to the faded dresser he opened one of the drawers. Only to see the drawing of the man with green eyes.
He stiffened. All of a sudden anger filled him. Red hot.
He clenched his teeth and grabbed the drawing. Tearing it into tons of little pieces Chuck through them around him in rage.
Then despair struck him just as suddenly and he raced to pick up every piece of the picture. Making room on the floor he carefully pieced them together. Until too green eyes were staring at him through the page with such intensity. Tears gathering in his eyes, Chuck gathered the pieces to him, curling around them protectively he cried. Blazing emeralds are his only witness.