The Stone of Blood

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The Stone of Blood Page 7

by Tony Nalley


  “I will if YOU WANT me too!” I teased again.

  “NO I said!” She told me.

  Anna was gettin’ mad at me now and I was smilin’ like a Cheshire cat! Scott was my age and my sister of course was a little bit younger. And it sure was embarrassin’ when you liked somebody and got teased about it! But it was one of the funniest things ever when you were the one that gotta do the teasin’!

  “Well all right, but if you want me too, I’ll TELL HIM for you!” I told her.

  “SHHHH!” She stated holdin’ her finger up to her mouth. “HERE HE COMES!”

  “Hey Scott, how’s it goin’?” I asked.

  I was ridin’ my bike around in circles now. I’d already forgotten about whether or not my mama could see me. The red barn blocked us mostly from Mama’s site, so that’s why we liked ridin’ close by it most of the time.

  “Pretty good. How are y’all doing?” Scott said.

  “Not bad.” I said lookin’ at my sister and smilin’. “Guess what Scott?”

  “What?” he said.

  “Anna’s got somethin’ to TELL YA.” I said.

  The look on my little sister’s face could’ve knocked me plumb off of my bike if I wasn’t already laughin’ so hard! It was just some good natured ribbin’ was all! At least wise since I wasn’t the one gettin’ the ribbin’!

  I had to stop ridin’ for a whole minute and just stand there on that road with the bike between my legs to catch my breath from laughing so hard!

  “ANNA LIKES YOU SCOTT!” I said bustin’ out loud!

  Anna became so embarrassed that she turned a bright red in the face!

  She gave me the meanest old scowled look that you’d ever saw!

  And then she rode her bike on up to the house!

  I knew that I was gonna hear about it when I got home! Cause I knew that my mama would surely be standin’ by our mailbox tellin’ me to come home at any moment!

  But as for right then, me and Scott just kind of looked at one another and laughed a bit.

  Well, I laughed.

  Anna was my sister after all and I didn’t let anybody else do no laughin’ at her!

  Scott might have just snickered is all.

  Laughin’ at sisters was somethin’ totally reserved for brothers only! It was an unwritten kid code or somethin’ like that. Cause if anybody was gonna do any laughin’ at her, well …it was gonna be me!

  ***

  November 1793

  In legislative assembly hidden beneath the streets of the Place de la Concorde, Paris, just as a young soldier of the Revolution reached his hand into the basket placed beneath the sharpened blade of the guillotine and produced the severed head of King Louis Philippe II and held it up to the roar of cheering crowds, the Grand Master of the Royal Order of the Wolf addressed the gathered congregation.

  “Messieurs, désespérée est l’heure que nous nous réunissons ici aujourd’hui.” At-il déclaré: “La Révolution accentue à nos portes et le sang innocent tourne librement mais nos rues.” At-il poursuivi. “Le jour est venu, sinon ce jour où le ‘Sang de Pierre’ est plus sûr dans les mains des ‘Sang du Prince’! Il séjourne aujourd’hui dans nos pays voisins, comme des soldats de notre Ordre le protéger. Mais le jour est venu, sinon ce jour où il doit renoncer à la pierre pour nous et nous devons embrasser les moyens de l’émigré!”

  “Gentlemen, desperate is the hour that we gather here this day.” He stated “The Revolution heightens at our gates and innocent blood runs freely thoughout our streets.” He continued. “The day has come, if not this day when the ‘Sang Pierre’ is no longer safe within the hands of the ‘Prince du Sang’! He sojourns now throughout our neighboring countries, as soldiers of our Order protect him. But the day has come, if not this day when he must relinquish the stone to us and we must embrace the ways of the émigré!”

  “Mais ne sommes nous pas des émigrés maintenant? Même ici, au sein de nos propres terres?” Une voix audacieuse parlé de la foule.

  “But are we not émigrés now? Even here, within our own lands?” A bold voice spoke up from out of the crowd.

  An émigré is a refugee, usually a royalist who had fled the French Revolution to live in a foreign land. The émigrés comprised all classes, but were more usually made up of the privileged class.

  After the fall of the Bastille in 1789, the exodus of the ‘Prince du Sang’ began, and waves of immigrations took place thereafter.

  “D’accord!” A crié un autre. “Paris est notre ville! Pourquoi devrions-nous courir? Ces révolutionnaires, ils sont les véritables monstres! Ils marchent dans la lumière du jour où le monde entier entier peut voir!”

  “Agreed!” Shouted yet another. “Paris is our city! Why should we run? These Revolutionaries, they are the true monsters! They walk in the daylight where the whole entire world may see!”

  “Alors que nous devons nous cacher comme des rats dans les égouts!” At-il poursuivi. “Dites-moi où est-il encore pour nous de courir? Où y at-il quitté Grand maître? Qu'en dites-vous? Où est il nous reste à courir?”

  “While we must hide ourselves like rats in the sewers!” He continued. “Tell me where is there left for us to run?Where is there left Grand Master? What say you? Where is there left for us to run?”

  The Grand Master raised his hands to calm the growing murmur of the crowd as they spoke with much debate and passion.

  “Messieurs s’il vous plaît, que le jour grandit courte et les soldats de la révolution sont presque à nos portes!” At-il dit.

  “Gentlemen please, as the day grows short and the soldiers of the revolution are nearly upon our doorsteps!” he said.

  The congregation’s temparment was appeased as the speakers tone intensified.

  “L’Ordre a été brisée! Nous ne pouvons plus rester caché dans les limites de ces chambres, au sein du Palais de notre Roi ou à l’intérieur des frontières de notre bien-aimée à Paris!” Il a crié. “Ceux qui étaient autrefois en dehors de nous, maintenant sont contre nous!”

  “The Order has been broken! We can no longer remain hidden within the confines of these chambers, within the Palace of our King or within the borders of our beloved Paris!” He shouted. “They who were once apart of us, now stand against us!”

  Those in attendance rose to their feet as their roars climaxed!

  They threw down their mortal masks to show the fury of the wolf, with a great snarling and gnashing of teeth!

  The gavel was struck upon the lecturn as they sought to regain order within their assembly.

  “La façon dont a été fixé!” Abdias déclaré fermement. “Notre grand passage sera bientôt fait! Ceux qui le souhaitent de rester à Paris peut le faire! Mais ceux d’entre vous qui sont prêts, ceux d’entre vous qui souhaitent faire le voyage avec nous doit se préparer à notre appel!”

  “The way has been set!” He stated firmly. “Our great passage will soon be made! Those who wish to remain in Paris may do so! But those of you who are willing, those of you who wish to make the journey with us must prepare for our call!”

  Werewolves growled in great tumult; howling themselves into frenzy!

  “Le ‘Sang Pierre’ ne doit pas tomber entre les mains de nos ennemis! Il est de notre devoir! Non! Il notre destin et l’obligation solumn pour protéger la pierre, ordonné par Dieu!” Le Grand Maître des conférences que le marteau a été frappé encore et encore.

  “The ‘Sang Pierre’ must not fall into the hands of our enemies! It is our duty! No! It our destiny and solumn obligation to protect the stone, ordained by God!” The Grand Master lectured as the gavel was struck again and again.

  “Préparez-vous!”

  “Prepare yourselves!”

  “Pour notre appel va bientôt venir!”

  “For our call will come soon!”

  “Il viendra à n'importe quelle heure!”

  “It will come at any hour!”

  “La façon dont a été réglée!”

  “The way has be
en set!”

  Nine

  Burning Embers

  Our driveway became my fishin’ hole in my imagination when I was still little. As a kid I’d fish for hours in it as I sat in the shade of the two giant bushes that grew on its right hand side. The gravel rocks replaced the cool runnin’ waters of a gentle flowin’ stream. But my fishin’ pole didn’t notice the difference. It just didn’t pay it no never mind! I’d catch a few fishes every now and again too! But I’d have to throw em’ back, even though they were only in my imagination!

  “Imaginary fishes don’t make for a whole lot of good eatin’.” My mama would say.

  I’d rather have had a bologna sandwich anyways, with some potato chips and a cold soft drink to drink! Mama would always pack me a good picnic lunch to bring along with me too on my trips to the other side of the driveway.

  Hot were the days of summer then, when havin’ air conditionin’ meant that we had our windows opened wide with fans sittin’ in em’! And I never could understand why our ancestors stopped here as they drove their wagon teams west! I mean, why build their homes in such a hot and humid place as this? It had to be cooler further on! Did they come in the cooler months and then just die out before movin’ on, leavin’ their children to fend for themselves?

  That could explain it, either that or cause of space aliens or somethin’.

  When I was little, I’d pretend that…

  …I sat there in my fishin’ chair sippin’ soda though a straw. The wind was cool to my back as I cast out my line while my Candy dog lay by the river, both of us unaware of the dangerous peril that lurked beneath these waters!

  Unbenounced to us, the Colby Creek Monster had awakened from its slumber! For over one hundred years it had rested, entombed inside its hidden limestone bed. Death followed it as it swam beneath the current. And shadows became screams as it searched for its masters who’d summoned it from its watery grave...

  Colby was the first person to ever tell me of the monster. He was my cousin. And of course he’d waited until we were all alone in the dark, campin’ out under the full moon to tell me!

  He had great timin’ that cousin of mine! So that’s why I named the monster after him.

  My dog Candy would protect me from the imaginary monsters though! Cause she would go fishin’ with me sometimes too! She enjoyed lyin’ there on the cool grass by that imaginary river and jumpin’ in waters to eat the real bait on my fake fishin’ line!

  Candy was a big part of our family. Mama even put her in charge of us when we got too rowdy! She would bark at us too if we did something that she knew we wasn’t supposed to do! And you’d better not cross over any imaginary fences when she was around! No sir! Cause she would tell on ya! She would too!

  Candy was a solid white Jack Russell Terrier, at least right after she had been given a bath! And she hated baths! After she’d been given one of them things and she knew that our mama wasn’t watchin’, she’d run outside and roll around out there in every cow manure patch that she could find! Just so that she could get that clean smell off of her! And Mama would get so mad at her for doin’ that! Candy would have to stay outside all day long for doin’ that as a punishment!

  When we first got Candy, I remember how much she liked to get her belly rubbed! No matter what happened, as long as she got her belly rubbed afterwards she was okay! She loved to be loved on that dog! And she loved it here in the country! She could run through the fields and herd the chickens. Her legs moved so fast underneath of her that sometimes you could hardly see em’ movin’! They looked like hummingbird wings!

  We played outside in the shade all summer long, Anna, Candy and me. And on the hottest of days when playin’ in the shade was as hot as playin’ in the sun, Mama would make us lots of cool-aid or cold lemonade drinks so that we didn’t melt or die or anything!

  We played on the swings, and we played on the front porch where the concrete would stay nice and cool. We played in the dirt when mama would let us and we built castles and forts out of gravel, rocks and dirt! The dirt always felt cool to the touch.

  But as I grew older, I didn’t play in it all that much. I guess that the games I liked to play just kind of changed is all.

  “Son, it’s time for supper! You need to get in here and get your hands washed!” Mama hollered through the front door screen.

  So I got myself up from the swing and I went on inside to eat!

  Mama was always cookin’ and stuff. And that was a good thing cause no matter how much or how many times we ate, we’d still get hungry again no matter what!

  The one thing that I didn’t understand though was why we needed to be clean every time we ate! I mean, was a little dirt on your hands gonna kill ya? Didn’t the corn and the potatoes come from out of the dirt in the garden? It just didn’t seem natural is all? And I’d just get dirty again when I went back outside to play so I just never saw the point in it!

  Mama didn’t care. She made me wash two or three times sometimes! You’d think once would be more than enough for anybody! But not my Mom! “Oh well.” I sighed and washed my hands real good anyway before I got hollered at!

  “Let me see your hands.” Mama demanded of me as soon as I walked into the kitchen.

  I guessed I passed her test this time cause she let me sit down at the table without washin’ again! She just looked at me all stern like was all.

  Scootin’ chairs across the floor always made lots of noise as we all made our way up to the table to eat, with knives and forks, plates and cups’ all clangin’ together as our places were set in preparation for our meal.

  We bowed our heads and held hands whenever we were gathered around like this. And we said prayers of thanks to our Heavenly Father for the food that He had placed before us and for our good health and family and other stuff like that.

  “Thank you Father for this food that you have set before us and for this healthy family gathered around this table. In your son’s name Jesus Christ we pray. Amen.” My dad said. “Amen.” We followed with afterwards and proceeded to pass around the food bowls to one another.

  Mama told me that we couldn’t see God with our own eyes or nothin’, but that we could feel him inside our hearts. “God lives within us.” My mama told me.

  It seemed like a bunch of mushiness to me whenever somebody was lookin’ at me and stuff, but I guess I did feel Him in there sometimes. Just a little bit.

  “Dad can I have some potato chips?” I asked.

  “Eat your food first son, and then you can have some.” Mama interjected. I wanted to say “Mom, I was talkin’ to Dad.” all shaking back and forth and wigglin’ like, but I didn’t feel like gettin’ my face slapped off of my head right then so I just didn’t say nothin’.

  “I don’t think you like those.” Dad said as he pointed to the diced tomatoes covered in gravy. “That’ll leave more for me.” You could tell he was thinkin’ by that kind of sly smile on his face.

  Dad worked all day at his job, so if there was ever a cold soft drink in the house he got first dibs on it! I always got second dibs as long as nobody else was lookin’.

  I took a few great big bites of food off my plate and I slurped down a big old drink of my milk.

  “Can I have some potato chips now Mom?” I asked showin’ her that I had at least eaten some of my food. Mama just looked at me sternly. And I took her silence as my answer.

  There was always a whole bunch of chatter around the kitchen table. Dad talked about his day and he ate. Mama told Dad about her day and about anything me and Anna might have done that we shouldn’t have, and she ate. Me and my sister talked about our days too I reckon, and we ate.

  Of course, me and Anna also went through our normal “slappin’ at each other” and “quit touchin’ me” sessions …to the point where the overall enjoyment of the grown up population would reach an all time daily low!

  Sometimes “we would even break a record!” My mama would exclaim! “Toby!” Mama yelled and smacked at my hand! “Don�
�t be feeding Candy under the table! She has her own food! Your father works hard for that!” She continued.

  “Okay Mom.” I said as I raised my plate back up and sat it on the table.

  Now I know it wasn’t me. But somebody sittin’ at the table knocked over my milk! I wasn’t gonna say who it was mind you. Cause you know that I don’t like to start nothin’ or get anybody into trouble or anything. I just knew it wasn’t me is all. So for the next few minutes my mama cleaned up the milky mess that had fallen from my glass; that which someone had spilt. She lifted up bowls and wiped off the table. We even had to hold up our own plates while she wiped under em’! It was a very hard undertakin’ gettin’ that milk up from all over the place! It was exhaustin’!

 

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