Primo clapped his hands, smiling widely. “I knew it. You’ll be my brother. Or my father. Or my lover. It reconciles me to reincarnation after all.”
Wilmot laughed. “The next life you enter will not follow the pattern of the last,” he said. “Besides, you cannot escape reincarnation, whatever you may wish. Physical living, voluntarily re-entering time in order to serve your soul and learn, is the only way to permanent growth. The Summerlands are only the Betweens, recuperations sandwiched between lives.”
“I like that.” Primo couldn’t stop grinning. “Makes sense.”
Wilmot nodded. “Paradise, Heaven, Valhalla, the Sumerlands. These planes have been named in many tongues and many eras. But to me, as to others, they are The Betweens.”
There were two couches, each deeply cushioned and covered in golden silks shaded from palest lemon and the first glimmering light of early dawn, to the rich mustard of the desert at twilight. Primo stretched on the second couch, facing Wilmot. “Alright,” he said, “reincarnation it is, then. With you along for the ride, at least I won’t waste my life as surely as I did last time. And though you act fucking superior now, that’s just because you’ve got to the ninth plane. If we both get born again together, then at least I’ll have a playmate who’s as fucking weird as I am.”
“A sublime conception,” nodded Wilmot. “However, I doubt we are as eccentrically unique as you seem to believe. Remember, each soul is utterly individual.”
“I do remember and none of them ever fucking acted unique,” said Primo. “It was a world of shitty morons, all following the leader.”
“That is simply due to the mendacious tyranny of a moribund society,” sighed Wilmot. “But God created individuals, not a brainless army of ambivalent cells. Each of us is created specifically to be as we are, different, special, unique personalities. Then, as particular as we are, He cossets us in that particular manner and according to our particular needs. The care given to your destiny will not be the same as that given to mine, any more than our destinies themselves will be similar. Our paths are designed only for us, and from the very beginning.”
“That sounds dangerously like flattery,” said Primo.
“It is creation which flatters us all,” Wilmot said.
“If I thought at all,” decided Primo, “which of course you’ll say I never did, I sort of assumed that creation meant unformed clay. All that primeval ooze and leggy things turning into fish. Squid into stegosaurus and tyrannosaurs into birds.”
“You are confusing God with Darwin,” Wilmot suggested. “A mistake made by a large portion of humanity. However, I am not speaking of the scientific facts of physical life. I am talking of the creation of spirit, which has nothing remotely to do with evolution, myth, the Big Bang or even the Bible.”
Primo muffled a snigger. “You mean I’m actually meant to be the way I am? And you’re meant to be like that too?”
“Incredible but incontrovertible. Can you imagine that during this illusionary dawn of creation, God, dancing in His Wellington boots through the primordial sludge, flung a sweaty handful of erratic matter into the ferment, letting it form itself randomly into a soupcon of life, predominately wild and only occasionally attractive, including a spit and lick of humanity?”
“No. You’d probably spit yourself if I said yes, after all those lessons about no coincidences and no mistakes.”
“Precisely,” said Wilmot. “We do not have a fallible Source. We do not originate from turmoil but from the precise design of our individual potential. I offer you an alternative but accurate explanation, being that not one of us is dispensable, or can ever be lost. Since such an infallible Creator could never have made an irrelevant number of souls, or a generously plentiful multiplicity to cover possible breakages, or even one too many having muddled His maths, we can properly assume that each one of us is utterly and indefinably individually indispensable to the continuance of the entire universe.”
Primo’s grin was now firmly etched. “So I may be peculiar, but I’m not a haphazard bit of pottery. Not the bit where the clay went wonky or the kiln was too hot. Not the one too many.”
In the echoing upstairs four stories above where the turrets reached the sky, the scuffling of ferocious nest building could be heard, interrupted by the occasional rapturous croon of an extremely satisfied eagle.
“Your particular character might suggest that our Creator is a capricious sadist, but,” smiled Wilmot, “I have it on the best of authority, that He is not. Therefore you are, indubitably, wholly intentional.”
“Well,” said Primo, grinning across at his complacent guide, “fuck me.”
Dear Reader,
I do so hope you enjoyed ‘Between’? It is certainly high up in my favourites list. Inspired by a combination of John Wilmot (2nd Earl of Rochester) and Johnny Depp in a small film called ‘The Brave’.
And talking of brave, have you read any of my Historical Mysteries yet?
The first in the series is ‘Blessop’s Wife’, is full of mystery and espionage, it is an exciting cast of characters from the backstreets of Medieval London. Where the choices made can affect the King’s of England.
Read ‘Blessop’s Wife’ here.
And do remember that when a reader leaves a review, an Author Angel gets their wings!
About the Author
My passion is for late English medieval history and this forms the background for my historical fiction. I also have a love of fantasy and the wild freedom of the imagination, with its haunting threads of sadness and the exploration of evil. Although all my books have romantic undertones, I would not class them purely as romances. We all wish to enjoy some romance in our lives, there is also a yearning for adventure, mystery, suspense, friendship and spontaneous experience. My books include all of this and more, but my greatest loves are the beauty of the written word, and the utter fascination of good characterisation. Bringing my characters to life is my principal aim.
For more information on this and other books, or to subscribe for updates, new releases and free downloads, please visit barbaragaskelldenvil.com
Also by Barbara Gaskell Denvil
Historical Mysteries Collection
Blessop’s Wife
Satin Cinnabar
The Flame Eater
Sumerford’s Autumn
The Deception of Consequences
The Stars and a Wind Trilogy
A White Horizon
The Wind from the North
The Singing Star
Box Set
Crime Mysteries
Between
Time Travel Mysteries
Fair Weather
Future Tense
Children’s Bannister’s Muster Time Travel Series
Snap
Snakes & Ladders
Blind Man’s Buff
Dominoes
Leapfrog
Hide & Seek
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