Chapter 43: The Mystery of the Dead Laptop

What exactly happened to my computer was beyond my understanding of technology at first. It just died. Wouldn’t turn on or anything. Of course I took it to the shop, paid through the nose for a diagnostic test and they said the hard drive was melted and destroyed. I sighed. Yes, I was a girl who used her laptop on her bed and floor. But not that often. Really hardly ever. But I guess it must have been enough to kill the poor thing. So I pay a rather large three digit number to get it a new heart and I have a computer for a few more months. Then, of course, the same thing happens later. I take it to another store, pay for a diagnostic and they say the same thing.

“But I never had it on the floor or my bed!” I protest uselessly. “How did this happen?”

Seeing my strange, over the top, and rather unnecessary upset, the technician says, “Give another day with it and I’ll see what I can find.”

Two days later the they call and give me the news: “Your laptop’s mother board was never working. It couldn’t ever tell the fan when to come on and cool the unit down, so it melted itself both times.”

Oh, the agony! My poor laptop was mentally retarded and committed suicide due to a malfunctioning brain! They said they would fix it, mother board, hard drive, but it would be about $850. I died. Then I told them no, thanks.

So for the last semester and half I have had this corps of a laptop sitting on my keyboard (also alone since I have no computer to make music with it on) and every once in a while, I would turn it on to see if it would magically boot up. No such luck…until the other day.

I believe I mentioned the Columbus Foundation trip? And how I would have to save up really hard and make a lot of money to be able to afford to take four weeks off for that? Well, have also mentioned how I continually said, “Oh, God, if I had only (insert amount of money here) then I’d never have to worry about a thing again!” Because money is all I fret about to be honest. What I didn’t know was that God was replying, “Uh, yeah, I know. I kind of want you to depend on Me.” I ignored that.

So I never got a magic genie with tons of money. And working to save up for the trip has been hard. Then, on this past Sunday, my pastor preached on what? The love of money. I know, an old sermon topic, but pastor Kelly is AMAZING. His sermon really touched a nerve in my heart. The kind that makes you glare at the preacher while he’s talking. So on Sunday, I said eff it and gave up the money-grubbing idea. I still was going to work hard and save, but worry and fretting about it wasn’t getting me anywhere. Or getting me a new laptop.

In the kitchen that afternoon while mum was making dinner, I told her about the sermon and how earlier dad had said there was no way I was doing the Columbus trip. Then I said, “Maybe if dad really won’t let me go, I’ll save up for a laptop.” Pause. “Or maybe if not that, I’ll save up to go to Kansas City and visit Elise. I don’t know.” Right after that, I go upstairs to do some French homework and decide to give the laptop a try. I switch it on and forget about it for a few hours. It tries all its normal “instant self repair” things that never work and finally it asks if I want to go to a save point and restore from there. Well I didn’t have one. AND the laptop hadn’t gotten this far in a long time. Pressing my luck, I look for a “factory restore” option and after some searching, I found it. Hmmm….I push and let it go for some time as, magically, it all starts over again. And within two hours, my laptop is up and operating again! I wonder how long this will last. I haven’t turned it off for fear of it never coming back on. Was it my music making software that screwed it up? I don’t know. I’m going to try putting it back on and not download anything else. I’m not even putting my files back on. Going to keep it clean and work off my external hard drive.

So….what’s up, God? Heard me say I was going to save up for a laptop…OR Kansas? What do you want me to do? Something is happening and I don’t what You’re up to, but I’ll play along. Maybe there’s even some simple technological explanation for why my laptop is working and I only have a few days to use it? I don’t know. All I know is the freak coincidences that happened that Sunday.

I still work hard. Harder than ever if I can. I must study and save. Well, we’ll see.      

Chapter 42: Back to work!

Spring break is over and all too soon... It was as if the professors decided since I'd have the whole week off, they'd have tests right when we start again. Oh, and do ALL this assigned stuff while you're at it. It wasn't too bad. I did get to visit the ocean (ok, ok the gulf) for the first time in months. I missed it so much. When I got out of the car, I stood near the water on the cool, dark sand and let my hair down so the sea breeze could destroy the hours that went into straightening it. I don't know how many people know this, but sea water and sea wind curl your hair like nothing else. But I didn't mind. It was like the sea was happy to have me back. It was too chilly to go swimming, but I ran in the surf and let the waves lick at my knees and hips any way.
On that note, I mentioned to dad (must have forgot to earlier before making my huge plans) that I was going to volunteer with the Columbus Organization and sail on the Nina and Pinta for a portion of the summer. I mean, come one, a gypsy pirate type like me would never pass that up! And he did as he often does when trying to gently tell me no; he scoffed and said, "No, you're not," with a gentle smile. Who knows now. My heart still burns for it and I'm still working all I can to save up enough money so I can afford to take 4 weeks off to sail around America.
Which leads me to my next topic. Dance and money. The last night we danced at Skewer's, they decided they hated us. Said we were unprofessional. That's how people see us though. "Oh, those are Amira's girls. Aren't they just cute!" Cute and little. Like baby girls. Not a threat to any one else's job, not "good". Just little girls. So how are we going to cure that since I need to pay off my costume, make money, and save up? Do solo gigs. But I have to get better first. So I'm biting the bullet, dropping the last 5 or 10 pounds I need to, getting in shape, and.....eating vegetables! There I said it....phew...So in order to work out, I'll dance. Have to wake up in the morning to do my crunches and eat right. Not so hard. Should have been doing this all along but I wasn't serious enough. Guess it took a little poke of rejection first. So, step aside world, I'm getting serious.
Of course I'm making myself studying harder too. I'm doing fine in school but I figure since I'm so serious about this now I'll not let myself dance practice until after I'm done studying. That means French, British stuff, icky history, and poetry. Sounds easy, hu? Well, you try it.
So here I am. Working harder. Again. But actually trying this time around. Maybe now I'll have something to write about. Like that pit in my stomach that is screaming for Cheetos right now. I already ate Cheereos, an apple, had some Emergen-C (lots of sick siblings) and am about to go eat a banana for a snack. Stop being hungry! Eh, either way... :)

Chapter 41: Some French Cuisine!

Here is just an example of the lame little essays I've been writing in French class. Yes, the grammar is APPALLING! But not a lot of Americans are going to know that. ^_^ I've only been speaking French for a semester, but there are huge leaps in these papers. And let's not forget that I'm only a B- student in this class. The first paper is written only in present tense as it was all I knew a few months ago. The past imperfect and the past tense in French are difficult but I'm really getting it. Better than anyone else in the class actually. I thinking a writer helped with that a lot. I can just tell when to use which. It's cool. So here is the first one!

Chaque Jour

Ma vie sur mardi et jeudi est très occupé. Dans le matin je réveille á six heures. Je s’habiller rapidement afin je peux manger. Suivant, je vais á l’école. Mais premier, j’ai besoin de prendre le bus entre mon maison et le bus stop. Puis je prends deux bus á l’école et j’arrive á l’école á huit heures. Maintenant j’ai dois marcher á classe. C’est un promenade très loin.

Á huit heures et demi je arriver mon premier classe! Je prends psychologie de première et essayer ne dormir pas! Mon professeur est très ennuyeux…mais j’ai une bonne note! Pas un cent pourcent mais bon assez. Le class est terminée á dix heures. 

Ensuit je fais ma classe prochaine á dix heures. Cette classe est science politiques. Je n’ai pas une bonne note en cette classe. Pas mal, mais pas bon. Cette classe est terminée á onze heures et demi. Ma troisième classe est á géologie á onze heures et demi. J’aime la géologie! Je aime á apprendre de le terre. Cette est ma deuxième classe de géologie. Á une heure dans le midi, je mange mon déjeuner dans le même temps je course á ma classe dernière : français!

Finalement, classes sont terminée et c’est temps de monter dans les bus encore. Mais! Ma journée n’est pas fini. J’ai travaillé et devoirs. Normalement, je suis á ma maison et dormir á onze heures et demi du soir. Puis je réveille á six heures du matin fois!             

And the second one from today!

Une Petite Princesse

Quand j’étais petite, mes frères a dit que j’étais une princesse parce que j’étais la seule fille pour un temps. J’ai aimé jouée avec les poupées beaucoup. J’ai acheté chaque poupées j’ai vu. Les poupées je préférais étais American Girl Dolls, mais j’avais autre poupées trop. Quand j’étais jouée avec mes poupées, mes frères moquaient moi et de les prends ! Mes frères les cachaient et je les besoin á trouvais. Puis, ma mère a dit, « Donnez votre sœur des poupées ! » et mes frères leur a donné á moi. Mais, j’aime mes frères.

Mes frères pensaient j’étais une princesse parce que j’avais ma propre chambre quand j’étais né. Le chambre été peinte violet et nouveau tapis été installé. Quand j’étais trois ans, je dis à ma mère, « J’envie des rideaux blancs, » et, voilà, j’ai eu des nouveaux rideaux !

Soudain, la prochain chose je sais, je ne suis pas la princesse! Une autre petite fille était dans ma chambre et elle est la princesse. Oh, non! Après cet,  je dois acheter quelque chose j’envie. J’ai appris á économiser mon argent á une jeune âge.

Apres cet, j’ai appris á faire des corvées et a pris soin de mon plus jeune sœurs et frères. Parfois, j’ai dit, « Je ne suis pas votre serviteur! » parce que j’étais un petite enfant et je ne savais pas á être une bon fille. Maintenant, je sais mieux. J’envie être une bon exemple pour ma jeunes plus sœurs et frères.          

                                                

Chapter 40: Don't Be Insecure, Girl!

This post is going to be more like word vomit than a neat post (as if I've done any of those, who am I kidding?) so be forgiving.
Last night, my mother decided it was high time to give me an hour an a half long lecture. You  see, my mum has always done this: never corrects the situation when it's in the moment, she waits for things to pile up inside of her and then lets  you have it when she can't hold any more and you get her emotional guts spewed all over you.
I was blown away by things she said and I have done nothing but think over what she said. I have honestly pondered the things she said and evaluated myself with out bias. The thoughts I am going to write out are just that, thoughts. Not answers. Not my replies. So, let's look at the allegations brought against me, but first, how it happened.
Yesterday started out fine. Good even. But the poem I turned in for class is still very wanting...In the morning as I was packing up for school, I felt The Twinge. The one I get when God's trying to tell me something. Something little that I need to do for the day. It was this: take what's left of your dance tip. Take the cash. But I say, "No, I'll just end up spending it on junk food." Thinking I am doing good, I leave the wad of ones in my room and head to school.
As I got up to leave my poetry class, my UH I.D. and Metro Q-Card fell out of my back pocket. I have them there cause I use the I.D. to get into the Language Lab, which I study in after poetry class every day, and my Metro card because I take so many buses to and from school. I've always had these cards in my back pocket. I get to the bathroom and realize it's missing, run back to the class only to have someone tell me that someone from my class picked it up. I text my mum knowing she may have to come and pick me up then head to the Lab to use the computer and send out an SOS over emails and facebook stalk my class mates to try to get it back. Halfway through French class and no replies. Mum has to pick me up.
This infuriates  her to no end. She sends me a text telling me to think of others lives and how I interrupt them when I screw up. I understand and I'm sorry.
The ride home is silent and just before I leave to teach, mum tells me she's going to have a talk with me and "you're not going to like it." I leave teaching early to have the talk that night rather than wait until today.
Now, to address what was said.
Apparently, I lost my cards because I'm not "conforming" and using a wallet. I don't carry a wallet cause I have 2 (3 now because of the Metro card) cards. They would fall out of a wallet because they wouldn't be snug with a million other cards. Also, the wallets these days are HUGE. At least 7" lone and 4" wide. That's insane. To please my mother, I will look into a wallet. A cheap one that I can afford. If it bothered her, why didn't she say so earlier or just get me one? A cheap one from somewhere so she doesn't have to suffer for it. No, she'd rather wait to burst as I mentioned.
So..."conforming" is the problem, I see. From here, the tirade is launched. I'm a rebel. I try too hard to stand out and now I'm out of control.
Really...? We're gunna talk about my clothes now? Yes. Apparently I wear black because...wait for it....I'm insecure. I know this may be true for some people. People say guys with loud motorcycles are compensating. Insecurity. But me? No. I thought over this long and hard last night. I wear black because (God forbid!) I like it. Why do people wear the clothes they wear? Maybe they like them? No, that can't be the reason!
Next, I'm insecure and think I'm fat, stupid, and ugly. Uh....no. I quite like my hot body, thanks. I WORK HARD to stay in shape, eat healthy and be active. And I like how my body looks now. Yes, I am a bit more poofy than what is considered desirable today, but I do not have a problem with that. I have a nice stomach, firm legs and great assets. To put it nicely.
Do I think I'm ugly. Maybe when I was 16 and didn't know how to handle my long, frizzy hair. Now, I quite like my dark eyes, long, elegant hair, and tan skin. I'm rather exotic looking. I know how to make myself up to enhance that too.
Do I think I'm stupid? No, I just think I struggle with Science, Math , and French, which is evident in my Cs and Bs in the subjects. And I do beat myself up about it. I won't deny that. I only do that though because dad only wants A-student kids. And I let him down. Even though I do extra homework, go in for tutoring and work hard, I'm still just  a C and B. In reality, I'm happy with that. I wish I could do better, but I need to devote time to the things I'm good at too. I hate getting Cs and Bs mostly. I'm not stupid. I'm rather clever actually. I'm a kick-booty writer when I have a goal (this blog is not a showcase, get over it), I'm super creative, I have a massive imagination...I'm pretty smart. I really am.
But no. Mum insists that I'm insecure and hate myself and that's why I dress in black. No....that doesn't even make sense. I like Edgar Allen Poe, Tim Burton, Shakespeare, and other things considered dark, strange, and unusual. That's just the way I am. Why do you like designer/name-brand clothes, have 50 purses, 60 pairs of shoes? I don't think I'm the one who's insecure.
I won't hide everything and say I am without sin. I know I get over emotional sometimes, I know I have a hard time learning and get too upset about it (would you be pleased if I just shrugged it off? You wouldn't think me lazy?) but I have made great strides recently. I used to not have this self-respect you deny me having and what was said last night really brought it down.
I saw that you hate me. You don't like me. You don't like who I am. You don't appreciate the work I have put in to growing up. Because you don't see it. You won't get to know me and see me. I was kind of given up on when I was 16. That's when mum stopped raising me and expected me to be perfect all on my own. Trust me, I'm going to try.
So here's my plan. Mum gave me a choice: (basically)stop wearing black, drop belly dance (I'm not even going to go there in this post), and then I can be back in her good graces. Mum, do you know that I'm a good, Godly girl? You can only say things "you're insecure" because you don't know me. You don't know that I try (and, yes, fail but we all do) and work hard and keep trying. My room and car and ferret get cleaned out on a regular basis (I am sad to say that this took me a long time to manage because my schedules have been ever changing and crazy), I keep my body clean, neat and exercised, I study, do homework and am bringing up my grades. I pray, go to church, read my bible, study with other Christian-written books, don't swear, don't drink, don't smoke, don't do drugs, don't stay out late (past midnight usually) every other day...I mean, honestly (and I am open to suggestions!) what more do you want? I drive kids around on my gas money, run errands for you, do house chores when I'm here and one of the other kids are gone.
So, what's my plan? Do more. Show you respect (ESPECIALLY when your on my last nerve). Be cleaner. Study harder. I have to be as close to perfect as I possibly can. Why? Because I love the dance and I won't drop it. I make good money with it. Second, because there is nothing wrong with me wearing black just like there is nothing wrong with you wearing pink and brown (though, in all humor, that is bordering on a sin!). Mum is attacking the wrong things in me. I'm not insecure, I'm just growing up on my own because she won't be part of my life until she gets scared of me.
I want her to be part of my life. Nothing sucks more than a mother who is afraid of you. I think she'd like me if she knew me. A bit any way.

Chapter 39: Allegory for Life

When I'm rollerblading, I can feel every slight incline of the road, every crack and niche. Sometimes I ignore them and just keep going. There are so many I don't need to count every last one of them. They're only small. Not like they're tripping me or snagging my wheels so I fall and skin myself.
I love the four miles I speed around my neighborhood. I used to do it every day but time ran out and soon I didn't do it at all. Today, I decided to bite the bullet and take the time to race my shadow around the four miles as fast as I could and ignore the seething in my legs and lungs as the icy wind sliced through me. As a smile broke my face I remembered the allegories to life I always drew while blading.
I only went rollerblading when I wanted to. The day would be pleasant, I'd have the time and the energy to have fun. The route started out fine with gentle, long strides, and nice wind. About a mile into the gliding, I'd start to breath heavier. The small hills approached and some larger cracks appear. Ignoring them as I always do, a large one ducks under my blades and I trip, my feet and arms flailing to regain my balance. Watch where you're going, my nerves shout at me. It was just a small crack, but just tall enough to nearly knock me off my feet.
Then the bigger hills come. I trudge up one and glide down the other side only to trudge up the next one. Floating down the hills is relaxing and nice but the work to get there is hard. Then I realize something. If going down the hill is so easy, why not kick harder down the hill so the momentum will carry me up more easily? So I try it and the result is brilliant. When it seems easy, work harder and when it is difficult things will be easier.
Simple revelations go a long way in life. I'm working hard to overcome some rather large faults I have that are dragging me down. I have to have the eyes of a hawk to find happiness in daily life, but finding it is the only way I can live through each day. Little thoughts like his keep me going. Taking pleasure in the simple things is how I get by. My hope is that I can fix myself and then help others do the same for themselves. But first, I must light a candle in my own bleak eyes.
 

The Eternal

A story I wrote in 2011 that was festering in my heart for several years. It's just a rough draft, so don't judge my grammar! :)

Long ago before the earth was weak with sadness, there was a great king who ruled all that was green with unconditional love and a rod of protection. To protect all the people of the earth and save the lives of those who did not heed his laws—yes, even they that shunned him—the king had an army of strong men who had come to him. To these men—and women with special tasks—the king gave his greatest gift: The Eternal Protection so that no harm or death on earth would befall them. However, over time the followers of the king became few and the world began to descend into a wicked darkness. The king’s heart grew sad and he was forced to send his army away into the wide parts of the world. “Take the Eternal Protection and give it to the other so as to tell them of me,” the king ordered. In this way, the men and women of the king went forth bearing this mighty gift. One of the king’s newest soldiers was a young knight whose name was Guile but had been changed to Ryghliant when he joined the king’s army. This young yet virtuous knight left the king’s land and returned to his own country. In this country he met an old friend who had once held his heart. Her name was Leahstry. Once Ryghliant beheld her again, he was overcome by her beauty and golden heart. As the days went by, they met only while the sun was high in the sky. Soon, however, their hearts growing wild with love and passion, they met earlier and earlier in the day and stayed together until the sun was setting.

Soft words were spoken, gentle touches given and all boundaries were respected; all limits undisturbed. The fierce romance of Leahstry and Ryghliant became one of legend, which you will read of in other stories and hear in other songs. For now let us say that it was pure, passionate and guarded by the utmost respect.

At last, Leahstry pledged herself to Ryghliant who returned the vow in the mists of morning after watching the moon rise and set. In his heart there was joy at these words, but deep in his soul and at the core of his heart he knew something was astray.

One day, as the earth was grey, Ryghliant asked Leahstry about the loyalty of her heart. “It beats for you alone,” she promised.

“I know,” Ryghliant replied. “But my heart beats first for my king and the task he has given me.”

Leahstry dismissed this with a beautiful smile. “I know this king you speak of and I keep his laws, but he is not my king. Serve him if you will, but know that I love you.”

These words were spoken truly and with sweetness. There was no poison or ill-intention in his beautiful lover’s manners. She meant no harm or disloyalty.

“Do you follow no king?” Ryghliant asked.

“I am free from all kings. But I follow your king’s laws,” Leahstry reasoned. “As I have told you.”

Speaking of the king was repeated in this way whenever Ryghliant inquired. When it was clear that Leahstry would not engage in conversation of the king, the young knight ceased urging for a time. In this time, wars broke out among the men of the earth and all the soldiers were called to fight. A sad farewell was said to his love, and then the knight journeyed to the king’s palace for battle plans.

“Take three days,” the king ordered. “Say farewell to your family, your loved ones and friends. Settle all your debts and have no blame upon you. Then leave your land and follow me into this battle.”

It was at these words that some of the men stood aghast and some shouted urges of protest.

“Leave everything?” One man cried. “What are we to do?”

To this, the king replied simply, “Leave everything you have now and follow me. I am your king, do you not think I will look after you?”

But still some soldiers were afraid.

“If you wish to leave and the power of fear is too much for you to bear, then I give you leave to do so,” the king said. “But do not look for me when you have turned away.”

When this was said, half of the men in the king’s hall gathered their things and left the eyes of the king who had ruled over them for years. Ryghliant could smell the fear of the men who remained. It was strong and there was nothing he could do to quench his own fear.

“Majesty, what of us who remain?” he begged. “Will you protect us?”

The king met the young knight’s eyes with his own stern gaze. “Trust your king,” he said.

The brave men who now stood in the king’s service traveled back to their homes to do as the king bid. On his way home, Ryghliant went to his childhood companion, Judas, who was among the men who left the king, and inquired as to why he fled the service of the king.

“I cannot leave everything,” he moaned. “My life is here, my friends. Why follow the king when I know not what will befall me?”

Sadness and sorrow filled Ryghliant’s heart at his friend’s words. “Come with me,” he begged. “We have been in each other’s sights since birth and have followed the king. Do not desert me now! Here, take the Eternal Protection once again,” he offered.

But nothing the young knight said would sway his friend. Not even when he reminded him of the Eternal Gift. “I don’t want it anymore,” his friend had said. “It does me no good. I will give up my immortality and hide from the king’s wrath.”

Running from friend to acquaintance after this was spoken, Ryghliant tried in vain to give the gift to as many as possible. “We are at war,” he cried in the village streets. “I am a knight of the king and I bring you his mighty gift! Take it and fight with us to save our lands.” But neither friend nor stranger would take the Gift. Heart broken, Ryghliant returned to Leahstry with a heavy heart.

“No one will take the Gift of the king,” he wept. “Not my companions, with whom I trained, fought, told secrets to, played with as a child—no one will take it! Am I to be alone after this war?”

The despair in her knight’s voice hardened her heart and she spat, “Why do you fret so? Do you doubt your courage? Your strength? I do not. I trust in you, I know you can do this thing the king has asked.”

“Do not rage so,” Ryghliant replied with love. “I only wish to not fight alone. More than half the men turned and left when the king bade them to follow him. No one would take the Gift when I offered it to them.” Here, the knight looked to his love. “Will you take it?” he asked, his heart leaping at the thought that she may at last take the gift he offered. “Follow the king and do the task he has for you. Come with me!”

At this last declaration, Leahstry’s face fell into a dark pallor. “I have told you before: I love you and I trust you. Not your king. I have pledged myself to you. Please do not ask me again.”

At this time, there was nothing that could be done. Ryghliant spent his last hours with his love, the beautiful Leahstry. In the morning, he gathered his things and left. She promised to wait for him no matter how long it took. He kissed her eyes and she watched him with those eyes as he walked away from her into the sunrise.

“I will wait for you, my love,” she whispered to his fading shadow. “Be safe. Return to me.”

These words were whispered and begged in vain, for this battle was one to end all wars. When the lines were drawn to fight, the knights with the Gift—the Eternals—were on one side and all that had left the king just days before, and those who had never loved the king, were on the other. Sadness clutched at the hearts of the Eternals as they saw now that they faced old friends, even family, on the enemy’s side.

“Must I fight my friends and the ones I love?” Ryghliant cried out.

“Fear not the enemy,” the king cried from his white horse. “You are my chosen men, you have the Gift; take this Gift and know what you do will bring about a better world!”

The battle began and the blood of men watered the dry earth. All oaths that any knight had given the king were fulfilled that day on the battle field. Lives pledged were used, swords promised rang out and fealty sworn was satisfied.

Yet fear abounded. Knights were falling all around Ryghliant as he fought and the horror gripped his heart. As he fought, Judas came into his sights and their swords clashed. In Judas’ eyes where once there had been playful trickery there was now red hate and soulless rage.

“Do not fight me, brother,” Ryghliant begged as he defended himself from the fierce, mighty blows that rained down upon him. But Judas would not hear him and he soon, driven by emptiness, overpowered his old friend. With one last mighty swing, Ryghliant’s sword was swept out of his hands and Judas’ sword was plunged into his heart.

This was how it was to be for a knight of the king. Alone, he was fated to fight. Alone, he was fated to love. The sun grew dim and before his eyes closed, Ryghliant could see Azrael, the messenger of the king. He stood before him, his sword was fire and smoldering embers were his eyes.

“Do not fear, young knight,” the messenger said. “You have fulfilled your oath to the king and you are welcome into his New Kingdom.”

“Why?” Ryghliant wept. “Why must I fight the ones I love? Will they be welcomed into this new kingdom as well? I cannot live alone again.”

“To be loyal to the king is to be alone,” the black cloaked messenger said. “I will appear to each man in his dying moment and that will be their last chance to follow the king. Those who refuse or do not change in time will be lost to the king’s enemy forever. You shall never see them again. And those that are not dying still have the chance to change.”

It was then that the earth shook and cracked open with a mighty thunder bolt. Fire rained from the sky and a great dragon began to swallow the stars as the moon bled.

“Is this how it ends?” Ryghliant wept as Azrael faded into the smoke and ash. “I lived alone. I was in love with her but always alone in my loyalty. Many friends I had, but still alone for none loved the king as I did. None followed as I did. And now to die alone amongst ash and fire from heaven! My king, why have you abandon me!”

In his last moments on this earth, Ryghliant cried out to his king. Hearing his call, the king came to his knight and stole him from the battle field and to safety in the New Kingdom where Ryghliant awoke. The old earth, the fire and ash and the stink of battle were left behind.

The sun was golden, not just yellow like it had been on the old earth, but golden and warm. The air was sweet and the wind sang quietly. Standing in the doorway was Gabriel, the king’s champion.

“Welcome to the New Kingdom, Sir Ryghliant. Many friends await you,” he said in a strong and deep voice with a kind smile.

“Many friends?” Ryghliant ask. “I am not alone?”

“You will have all of Eternity to find out,” Gabriel said stepping aside to admit someone else. “This man would like to show you the best parts of the Kingdom if you will let him.”

Where once Gabriel stood, there now stood Judas, all clad in gold and white. “I chose when I saw I was dying,” he said.

But Ryghliant did not need to hear for he understood everything now. He knew that all the people in the New Kingdom were the king’s men and women and that the Enemy had been put to rest at last on the old earth with his rage and fire.

“What has become of the old earth?” the knight asked.

“The enemy has taken it and all who would not follow the king,” Judas said gravely. “I am sorry, Ryghliant.”

Understanding dawned in the knight’s heart as he saw Leahstry in his mind. She never would have accepted the king. Now her fate was to live on the old earth with the Enemy before the King returned to wipe it out entirely and start anew. However, the sadness in his heart was not one of a forlorn lover, but more of a sadness for her heart. She was a slave to the Enemy now and would never know his love, the King’s love or the New Kingdom. His heart was sad for her not because of her.

“It is not wrong to feel that,” Judas comforted his friend. “But it will pass when you find your true calling here. Come and let me show you what your loneliness and trials on earth have brought you.”

“Perhaps I shall return to earth with the King for the last time,” Ryghliant offered. “I wish to go with him and I cannot say why.”

“You will be the only Eternal on earth,” Judas said.

“To be with the King is to be alone,” the brave knight said. “I am ready to do his work.” 

Chapter 38: A Bit of Pitiful

All through the night I want to strangle the 25 customers that are sitting on the floor and very much in my way so I can't put merchandise back where it belongs. The kids are destroying my last 2 hours of work as paperbacks are flung from the shelves and left abandon on the table to be used as coasters for Starbucks coffee.
The minutes tick by gruesomly slowly giving children and absent-minded adults more time to destroy my section of the store. I think about giving up, but then realize that that won't stop the people from making a mess. So I trudge on, picking up things, cleaning the surfaces, straightening the shelves...
By the time the manager gives the 30 minute warning, I'm mind numb and cannot even think as I try to alphabetize the baby section. Finally, the store is closed and the last of the trudge begins. I try to play it jolly for my sane co-workers but the odd looks and avoidance I'm getting show me that they see my madness very clearly no matter how big my smile. My depression and weariness seem to be oozing out of every one of my pores.
At last, we leave the store and I make it to the parking garage where my car waits for me all the while talking to a skunk I can smell in the distance. "Yes, you are like a ferret," I tell the invisible mammal. "I do have purple hair. Mm-hm, I drive a Toyota and I do so love pizza. I hurt my spine and neck yesterday and I've always sucked at math." The random thoughts coming out of mouth into the misting, humid Texas air are only slightly alarming to my dying conscious. Realizing I don't have the strength to stop such nonsense, I rattle on until I get in the car.
When my butt hits the seat, I nearly drop off the white cliffs of slumber instantly. Fortunately, my iPod kicks on and Tokio Hotel's "Hey You!" blares into my ears to wake me. I smile at the sound of Bill's voice and Tom's guitar rhythms and my heart is calmed a bit, but my mind was too tired to deal with the beats and melodies of the fine Kaulits twins. I switch instead to a Solitudes CD and listen to the crickets and loons sing to me as I drive. Mistake. I used to listen to this CD almost every night back in Kansas and haven't since we moved. Hearing the music for the first time in almost two years brings emotions, longings and sadnesses that I didn't know I carried with me. I close my eyes at a stop light and can see my old room and the woods behind my house. The air in Houston is damp and a bit cool: like my yard after a spring rain. Quite instantaneously, emotion over runs and spills down my cheeks in huge, hot tears.
I get home and without ceremony, get out of Edgar and go into the house. Knowing I won't find what I desire, I check the kitchen any way for a plate set aside for me waiting to be heated up and devoured. Like I thought, I find nothing. Absentmindedly, I open the refrigerator only to find--as expected--that no leftovers have been saved from whatever the evening meal had been. Ignoring my grumbling stomach, I head upstairs where the end finally begins.
I realize I need to remove my make up and wash my face and that I have the worst coffee breath ever. Without trying to make a mental check list for the evening, I throw my Skellington bag to the ground atop Mount Laundry and consider for a moment where to throw my keys. Not finding any logical solution, I toss them onto the mountain as well. Then the random undressing occurs. I don't know if I should take my stompy boots off before or after I get my pants off. Eventually, all the clothes are off and in odd piles around my room adding to the disastrous Picasso that is my bedroom floor. My skull PJ pants are soon pulled on and, needing to feel a little heroic for getting dressed for bed successfully, I throw on my Spider-Man (boys large) t-shirt.
Now the annoying part. Brushing my teeth (sometimes I can't remember when I last did....this morning? Last night?), cleaning my face (I have so many breakout spots...have I not been washing? Or am I stressing?) and trying to feel decent about myself before I go to bed. Somehow, this does not seem possible. I feel nasty and tired. Dirty and too warn down to know what to do. I'm an infant again and I don't know how to take care of myself.
Feeling an over-powering pull to the family computer (mine is quite retired), I sit down to write out my thoughts before trying to clean myself up for the night. After 20 minutes of writing out the evening's events, I somehow feel lighter and even a bit happy. I feel like I smile as I type the last words of m dismal evening, but the muscles don't flex enough to actually make a grin. I shrug the effort off and click "publish post" to end the bizarre evening and hope to get clean before sleep kidnaps me and denies me sweet dreams.