by Gary Foshee
Shivers raced up his legs causing him to shake with chil s.
A small fluffy cotton-puff, with long stringy fibers blossomed
wide, floated by. It whipped and twirled in the wind resting
shortly on the ground beneath his feet before taking flight again and floating away. He looked at his hands and then down at his
feet. Red volcanic dirt packed hard around his nails irritating
him. He dug at them for a moment and then nudged Urium in
his side.
“Hey. Does it real y never rain here? I miss the rain. It nour-
ishes my skin and tickles when it runs down my bel y.”
Urium remained quiet. He searched through the orders in
his head and took out a skin of water. He took a drink and then
passed it over.
“No, it never does. Not since Slithler laid claim to this land…
and not since—” he looked up to the sky, “We angels aren’t sup-
posed to speak of this.”
Caboose turned his head and listened with interest. “Speak
of what?”
“Let me share with you a story, a story that has been kept
secret amongst the angels for a long time.”
Caboose adjusted himself on the ground. He loved listen-
ing to Urium’s stories—except for the last one. He still didn’t
understand why The Augur would cause him, or anyone for that
matter, to be born different knowing it would bring them to the
valley. But the cold hard truth that no one wants to accept is that 191
Dr. Gary Warren Foshee
he does. The Augur allows trials, difficulties, misfortunes, sickness, disease, and deformities, or what others refer to as, “Divine Interventions” to take place for many reasons. Sometimes they
are a result of disobedience. Sometimes they are lessons to help us to become mature and complete so we will not lack anything.
Sometimes they seem to come for no good reason at all—but then
pan out somewhere in the future after you’ve grumbled about it
for years. Most of the time though, they are so the works of The Augur can be revealed. But there is one thing that is for certain.
One thing that is undeniable. The Augur made everything and
everyone for a purpose—this he has made clear. He made every-
one to Go and Do Great Things.
Urium continued. “We are not to speak of this, especial y
with those here on earth, but somehow, I know I’m supposed to
teach it to you—I think The Augur is about to do something new,
something that has never been seen or heard of before. It’s the
story of The Rainmaker.”
“The Rainmaker. Is that a person ‘kind of like The Wind
Whistler?”
“Kind of.” Urium took the skin of water back from Caboose,
took another swig and laid it down.
The Rainmaker
“Long ago when His Majesty created all things he cre-
ated the angels; one of them was Fedila. She was an angel
and used to be like the rest of us. Fedila was assigned
the responsibility of circling the earth, day and night to
provide nutrient-rich pellets of rain upon the land—thus
we called her ‘The Rainmaker.’ She faithful y flew around
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the earth nourishing plants and trees, man and beast,
and every living thing that creeps about, with her suc-
culent vitamin enriched drops-of-life. Trees grew so tall
their heads stretched into the heavens and drank directly
from the clouds. Flowers bloomed by the millions and
displayed spectacular assortments of colors and pat-
terns—their sweet delicious nectar accumulated in vast
amounts as honey buzzers stockpiled huge hives, hives
the size of a thunder beast, of large honeycomb reserves.
Plants thrived abundantly with columns of sunlight
and moist morning drops of dew bubbling on top of
their leafy boughs—the drops rolled down contoured
groves feeding dark red soil which incubated their roots
keeping them warm, safe, and secure. The fields of man
gently rolled across the plains and disappeared into the
horizon. They stretched for miles and rippled of thick
grain, ripe for harvest. Heavy heads of grain, loaded with
little golden nuggets-of-life, bobbed repeatedly every
time she flew by singing to her like baby birds singing
to their mother for food. High above the prairies, you
could see her footprints treading across the long, dark
green sea of grass carpeting the plains; feather, spear,
steppe, fescues, buffalo and rye grass was so thick and
green, people thought it had been hand painted by His
Majesty himself—each blade was a shade different, no
two were alike.”
Caboose moved his tongue around in his mouth oozing
saliva down his throat. It was as if he could taste each blade. He pictured himself there, rolling in the lush green banquet, his
mouth and bel y stuffed with the delicious blades.
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Dr. Gary Warren Foshee
“Late one afternoon, just before sunset, she innocently
strolled through the deep green grass on the open prai-
rie. Off in the distance she heard the sound of music and
felt the vibrations of drums pass through her. She fol-
lowed the sound to a Tamarisk Tree, perched on a steep
embankment overlooking a small stream below. At its
bottom, circling a large horned fire clawing the dusky
sky, the Icha Tribe danced and chanted long into the
night. King Ichabod, their king, sat on a chair of bones
watching the ceremony. Their faces streaked of paint and
their bodies shown of nakedness, except for small bands
of animal hide placed in discreet areas.
She watched quietly from her perch above, mesmer-
ized by the enthralling ritual. Dangling brightly from
their ears were shiny purple sapphires, chiseled into
small arrowheads. Colorful beads of pearls circled their
necks and large bands of Aztec gold, inlaid with purple
and green rubies, wrapped wide around their heads,
arms, and ankles.
Her lungs skipped. Her eyes sparkled. Her mind
flooded with envy. And her heart… filled lustful y with
desire. She flew to the other side of the earth trying to
elude the dazzling temptation. She tried to suppress the
feelings burning within. She even bypassed the plains for
months trying to curve the lust swelling inside. But she
didn’t realize that, on the cliff, high above the fire that
night, Mageddon was there. He studied her from a dis-
tance. He saw desire seize her heart and wonder fill her
eyes. This was the opportunity he had waited for.”
“Was this before he lost his place of authority?” asked
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Caboose, engulfed in the story. He shifted his bottom around,
leaned forward and waited for more.
“Yes,” answered Urium. “Unbeknownst to anyone,
Mageddon had been traveling throughout the earth for a
long time. He flew back and forth from the Holy Mount
trading with the kings of the earth, especial y King
Ichabod who owned the prairies. Mageddon became
very successful in his widespread trade and hi
s heart
swelled with pride on account of his wealth and fame.
It didn’t take long for greed to seize control causing him
to lust for more. He became so powerful and controlled
such vast amounts of wealth he discovered he could con-
trol and manipulate the markets.
He first lowered prices and drove his competitors
out of business. Then he raised prices and proclaimed
himself a god—the people groaned in misery as infla-
tion soared high causing many to lose the small plots of
land they owned. Countless became destitute, poor, and
homeless. Starvation, crime, and murder ran rampant.
Man and beast struggled just to find a few scraps to feed
the hunger bugs revolting madly inside. But, Mageddon
had underestimated the power of the kings. They rallied
together and refused to trade with him ever again. They
levied an embargo against all his goods and posted port
sentries at sea ports to monitor all freights inbound.
Furious, Mageddon went to The Rainmaker and
enticed her to make a pact with him. He promised her
if she would withhold rain from the king’s fields he
would share his spoils with her. Mageddon wooed her
day and night with his looted riches. He lavished her
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Dr. Gary Warren Foshee
with diamond rings, pearl necklaces, ruby bracelets, all
kinds of precious jewels. He clothed her with silk dresses
trimmed in fine gold. He colored her face with exotic
paint and gave her an endless supply of oils and creams
making her skin silky smooth. Baths of floral and spiced
fragrance were prepared for her—she soaked for hours
as young maidens washed her, causing her body to radi-
ate with intoxicating smel s of enticement.
But she still remained loyal to His Majesty and car-
ried out her mission. So Mageddon pulled his last and
greatest trick on her; he supplied her with an abundance
of Thunder Juice—the very thing King Ichabod loved
so much himself. Intoxicated and blinded with lust,
her heart turned from His Majesty and she worshipped
Mageddon alone.”
Thunder juice, thought Caboose. I don’t understand why
everyone loves it so much. The circle would be a lot better place without it.
“First Mageddon made her withhold rain from the king’s
fields—fields slowly dried and withered away, scorched
by the powerful rays from the sun. Then he made her
opened the floodgates of the heavens—crops and land
washed away, others rotted in the plot they were planted.
It wasn’t long until the kings of the earth bowed low to
Mageddon’s power. With the Rainmaker on his side,
they could no longer withstand the floods nor could
they stand by and watch their people waste away from
drought and famine.”
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“What happened to her? Is she still following Mageddon?”
asked Caboose. He arched his back and yawned.
Urium stood up and walked over to the ledge. He looked
down through the columns methodical y spread abroad.
“When His Majesty found out what had happened he
stripped her of her power and cast her to the plains-peo-
ple she lusted after. Mageddon abandoned her and now
she is the mother of prostitutes and an abomination on
the earth. The kings committed adultery with her, and
the juice of her adulteries intoxicated the people of the
earth. This valley, the valley of bones and all that you see
here, this used to be the prairie—King Ichabod’s land.
He’s still alive…” said Urium. “He lives inside of Lucky.”
“Lucky? But wasn’t that years ago? How could he still be
alive?” asked Caboose.
“King Ichabod was one of the most powerful kings in the
world. But, just like Mageddon, his wealth and fame corrupted
him causing him to lust for more. Mageddon promised him
immortality if he would sell him his soul. Fueled by thunder
juice, he sold his soul and became that which he hid inside—his
true identity—a weak, insecure, fearful little man, afraid to stand up for what was right.”
Lucky, thought Caboose. He didn’t say anything. He sat there
running Urium’s words over and over in his mind. This story,
and the others he told, were all starting to fit together like one giant puzzle. But a few pieces still remained. And he wondered…
which part of the puzzle was he?
Urium walked over and sat back down. He stretched his
wings and leaned his head up against the wal . “Posers…” He
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Dr. Gary Warren Foshee
said. “Many powerful men are nothing but posers. They’re like
white-washed tombs. They look good on the outside, but inside,
they are filled with death. Countless men and women appear to
do great things, and the world tel s them that they have done
great things, but all their achievements are meaningless. They lie, cheat, and steal their way to the top, and all for what? So, they can make the scared little child hiding inside feel better. They are evil. They have eyes full of adultery and work only to benefit themselves. They carve their names into history by the blood of
workers they failed to pay a decent wage too. You see, unless The Augur builds the house, its workers labor in vain. A day is coming, when the fire will test all things; the day when the dross will be removed. Then the truth will rise. Then a man’s work will be
shown for what it real y is. Then the secrets of the heart will be laid bare and the true man will be revealed.”
Urium’s eyes closed as his lips mumbled. “Wisdom…better
than gold…better…” he yawned… “Than gold.”
Early the next morning, Urium stood at the entrance looking out
over the land. Dark-clad shadows frolicked along the ridges in
the distance. An eerie feeling tossed in his stomach, giving him a stomachache. It was symbolic of what was to follow. Urium had
never been to Dead Man’s Drop before. But he had heard tales
from others and they weren’t good.
Caboose lay on the ground curled up in a bal , still asleep
a few feet behind him. Urium watched him for a moment and
wondered what kind of plans The Augur had for him. Whatever
it was, it would be the best thing that could ever happen in his life—greater than anyone could imagine. It was that way for
everyone. Once a person rejects the broad path in life and ven-
tures down the narrow, he or she finds a life and purpose that
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surpasses any dream or desire they could have ever possessed.
It is then, and only then, that they find the true meaning of life.
Urium walked over, reached down and shook Caboose.
“Caboose, we better get started.”
Caboose yawned and stretched. “What time is it?”
“Time to get going,” said Urium. “We need to reach the
Drop before a quarter till noon.” Urium collected his things and strapped his sword to his side.
Caboose sat up and shivered slightly. The scent of wet dirt
filled the air. “It’s cold, has the weather changed?”
“A front moved in last night. It seems to be trapped in the
; canyon,” replied Urium.
During the night, a small Southern gale blew in lowering
the temperature several degrees, which was unusual for the val-
ley. It had also created a low-hanging fog that hovered over the entrance to the Drop, making visibility dim.
Urium started down the ledge face. Caboose gave one last
sweeping look out across the land and then numbly trailed
Urium back down the rocky path. He thought about the story of
The Rainmaker, Lucky, and The Scorpion Pass gate. How did all
this tie in with why The Augur had formed him with a short leg
and his purpose for bringing him to the valley? Urium’s stories
were beginning to stalk him, like a pestilence in the darkness. He felt caught in a web—a web of deception.
Back on the valley floor a strange looking bug walked in
front of him. He stopped and watched it crawl across the path.
“Hey Urium, look at this.”
Urium stopped and walked back. He bent down to the
ground and let the bug crawl up his hand; it edged up his hand
and then his arm. Urium laid his other hand on his arm and the
colorful creature crawled on to it. “Beautiful isn’t it.”
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“What is it?”
“It’s a Click Beetle.” Urium lowered his hand. The beetle
crawled back to the ground.
“Click Beetle,” said Caboose, remembering the click he heard right before he fell down the trap door in the Titan. “Why is it called that?”
“It has a small spine on its bel y. When in danger it moves it
into a special notch and bounces itself to safety making a loud
‘clicking’ sound.”
Click, Click, Click, Click, Click, Click…The beetle disap-
peared quickly across the rocks. Caboose flinched and moved his
neck in all directions. “I don’t like.”
“You don’t like what?”
“The beetle; I don’t like it.”
Urium laughed and shook his head. “Now why would you
say that? It didn’t do anything to you.”
“I don’t care,” responded Caboose. “I don’t like it.”
Dark figures crept back into holes and narrow crags as they
walked under the arches and down the path smelling of a pungent
cocktail of tang and death. Caboose noticed something strange
about the entrance. The wind did not pass through like a nor-
mal airstream should. Instead, it pulsed, liked being inhaled and exhaled. Obscuring the horizon, large jagged-tooth overhangs