Remeon's Destiny

by J. W. Garrett

  Whisterly responded out loud this time. “Yes. We communicate most efficiently by telepathy, and we sense emotions…or feelings. But attempting to read one’s private thoughts has been outlawed for centuries here. That type of crime is a very serious offense and dealt with severely among my people, and that is why our true names are rigorously guarded.”

  “This is all a lot for me to…take in. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not. How do I know you’re real and all this is real?”

  “Real? We went to great lengths to make this environment authentic to you and something familiar. Do you not like your surroundings? Is it not pleasing? Is this more to your liking?”

  Instantly day turned to night, and Stephen felt a rush of cool air, as the sun disappeared, and the evening breeze surrounded him. It did all feel oddly familiar, as if home could be around the next bend. “So you can change your surroundings at will?” Stephen asked.

  “Only your perceptions of the surroundings have changed. I have given your mind a suggestion of your nighttime ambience, which you have obviously accepted. Is it more to your liking?”

  “Okay.” Stephen took a series of deep breaths, struggling to keep his composure. This had all been so far-fetched. Yet here he was, but why? His heart beat faster, and he broke out in a sweat. He fought the urge to run. This must be what a trapped animal feels like. These beings could speak telepathically, could control one’s belief of time and place. Why would they have need of me? “You still have told me very little of why I am here and why I cannot see you.”

  “It is a very complicated process, and one I cannot explain at this time. However, in many respects, your will and acceptance of life beyond your own kind led us to you and your gifts. ”

  Stephen quickly reviewed any “gifts” he believed to be pertinent here. “Quite possibly you have me confused with someone else.” Smart? Sure, but not a genius. “Are you sure it’s me you need? If you’re in trouble, or your people are, then you must want a person who can make a difference in some way or a person who is a great warrior… Maybe your telepathic wires are confused somehow,” Stephen said.

  “I assure you, there is no confusion. You are the one who can help us. Your will is strong. You were chosen, and we must protect you so you can safely complete your mission.”

  Mission? thought Stephen.

  “But I cannot guarantee you can be contained here. Forces are at work that could pull you back to your own world, as well as others here who seek to harm you. See my vision in your mind. This is where you must go.”

  Stephen blinked and saw an intricate map in his mind, as if the steps to his destination were foremost in his thoughts and sight, with the indicated pathway that he should take next. Yet he could still see what was in front of him in the physical world along the way to where he was headed.

  “Let us begin our short journey, but, again, your safety is at risk, so we must set a brisk pace. Do you feel ready to travel?”

  Was that a trick question of sorts? He was not fully capable of answering that. The one thing he felt confident of was a lack of information. His safety at risk? That didn’t sound good. At risk from who? Stephen quickly weighed his limited options in his mind. Stay put? More uncertainty, he reasoned. Take this walk with Whisterly, who was just a voice in the air? Safety? Danger? Who knew? Ah, hell, if I start walking, maybe I’ll run into something and wake up.

  “Let’s go,” Stephen said, “and I’d like to hear more about this ‘mission’ you spoke of.” He took a step forward. Stephen saw the vision in his mind’s eye change, and it updated as he moved in his physical world with the destination in mind. This is quite interesting, he mused, watching the changes with each additional step. In the far distance, he saw a compound of sorts, and his heart skipped a beat. As his pace quickened, a rush of excitement filled him with the anticipation of the promised mission at hand.

  “Your task will be explained to you in depth,” Whisterly said, “but first let’s get you to a better place. Continue to follow the pathway in front of you. You are getting close now.”

  Indeed, they were close, it seemed. Stephen saw the outlines of a huge building looming before them, edging nearer with each step. Whisterly’s vision and words were still in his head, evolving and updating with his pace as she spoke to him directly.

  “Now I must take your hand as we broach the structure. I will lead you from here.” She reached out and touched Stephen’s hand, and Whisterly was instantly revealed to Stephen in full form.

  His jaw dropped, and he stood frozen, taken aback by her beauty and grace.

  STEPHEN FELT A sting that reverberated up his arm and penetrated his body with the pins-and-needles sensation he felt when he accidentally touched the electric fence at home, the one intended to stop the cattle. This wasn’t quite as strong but numbing just the same. He jerked his hand back, obeying his natural instinct, shaking it vigorously, as if he could throw off the unsettling feeling.

  “It’s quite all right. The feeling will pass, and, as we interact more, you will feel that less and less,” Whisterly assured Stephen. “Come. Let us walk inside. Many would like to make your acquaintance.” She waited, her hand outstretched to receive his.

  Stephen somewhat hesitantly accepted it and found the tingling, prickly feeling much less intense, just as she had said it would be. Or maybe only her suggestion made it so, he thought. He took a good look at Whisterly for the first time and was truly overwhelmed. Her beauty seemed to radiate from within, and a soft glow permeated her presence. She wore a dazzling silver robe that sparkled, with inlays of black surrounding the bodice. Her hair fell long, past her shoulders, the color of silver as well, and adornments of jewelry in red and black could be seen prominently about her wrists and neck. She was breathtaking, and he could not take his eyes off her.

  A medallion hung around her throat. It exuded brilliance and distracted Stephen when she caught the sunlight, which was then reflected from its metal and bounced around the circular room with an image of the sun on its walls. Though bright in its display, he could not make out the words inscribed below it. Either he never knew them, or they were quite possibly in another language, Stephen reasoned. How am I understanding them? Do we really speak the same language? How could that be?

  Whisterly’s voice grabbed his attention, and Stephen glanced in her direction. He heard her telepathically. It’s the universal translator. Differences in languages are easily accommodated. You will understand all of us and we you as well.

  “Wow, that is just…wow.”

  “Everyone, this is Stephen, the one we have been waiting for. As you can imagine, he is a little overwhelmed. In time I’m sure he will meet all of you, but, for now, let him get to know us on his terms. I’m sure we all feel for him in this position.”

  Stephen faced the gathering crowd and was flooded by his own feelings of insecurity as all eyes focused on him. What can I do for all these people? The crowd murmured among themselves, stopping to smile as he and Whisterly passed. They all have that same glow, Stephen noted as he continued walking; it’s like a light within that can’t be contained, so it just spills out. “If you don’t mind me asking, where are we walking to?”

  Whisterly pointed ahead. “Just over there. We’ll have some refreshments, and my daughter will join us. I’d like for you to meet her. Actually, in your Earth years, you both are close in age.”

  “That would be great. Strangely enough I’m not very hungry, and Ma says I’m always hungry. All the excitement and nervousness I guess. And I’m still in the dark on this mission. I would really like to know what it is you all expect of me.”

  “Absolutely and you will very soon. Come. Sit and eat something.” Whisterly led Stephen to a chair a few feet away, and he heard her whisper. “Come and meet Stephen, my little one.”

  Wait a minute. Did he actually “hear” that? He would need to concentrate hard at all times.

  “Stephen,” Whisterly said, “this is Arista, my daughter. She has
been awaiting your arrival for some time and actually was very instrumental in choosing you to come to our world.”

  “Oh, I see,” he responded, not actually from any real understanding whatsoever. He was speechless. Her beauty was absolutely astounding, even more so than her mother’s, Stephen decided immediately. Her penetrating blue eyes were fixed on him as he took in her features. Golden hair fell to her shoulders; it was straight without a ripple, with a streak of pure white down the middle. She was petite, and her white gown fit her form to perfection. Her dress caught the light, giving it a sparkling effect, as she effortlessly slid into the chair across from him, all the while still holding his gaze. “Hi,” Stephen ventured, immediately regretting his word choice. I’m meeting a beautiful, exotic woman from another planet, and hi is what I come up with? That definitely didn’t sound smart, or heroic, he thought, wishing he could disappear inside his chair.

  “Hello,” Arista returned, as she exchanged glances and a nod with a server who passed by. “Food is forthcoming. I hope it will be to your liking. We strive to please and to attend to your needs.” Her actions and words belied her age, or what Stephen was led to believe was her age. Food is coming, he thought. I am a little hungry now. And I have a feeling I’ll miss Ma’s cooking. Visions of food flashed in his mind’s eye: hot biscuits and gravy, soft tender pork roast, hot buttered mashed potatoes, a big ole mess of green beans, sweet corn, and hot apple pie. Would these food items be “on the menu”? Probably not, he surmised. Trying to take his mind off food, he turned his thoughts to Arista.

  “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking? Your mother said we were close in age.”

  “Actually I’m sixteen of your Earth years.”

  Stephen evaluated her again from across the table. “You seem much older,” he retorted, quite accidentally out loud.

  Arista’s demeanor became solemn as she spoke. “We grow up quickly here. There is much to be done, serious work, and not much time for play or frivolities.”

  “What then do you do for fun?”

  “Fun? Our very lives are at stake! I will pardon that comment since you are new to our world. You have a telepathic ability, being on this planet. Use it to ascertain feelings, moods, danger, happiness, or sadness. You will need this knowledge of us and others in the days to come. And you must come to understand this is not a game.”

  Stephen shifted in his seat uneasily. “I…uh…meant no disrespect.” He closed his eyes and focused on Arista’s thoughts. As he did so, pain and sorrow filled his being. He grabbed the edge of the table as wave after wave of emotion hit him unseen. As for the source of this deep ache, he had no idea. But its depth and power were staggering and very real. He felt a suffocating grip closing in around him.

  “Stephen! Stephen! You must break away.” He heard her voice very faintly, as if from far away, then louder and louder. “Stephen!” Then suddenly someone vigorously shook him and yelled too. As his eyes jerked open, the potency of the feelings subsided, but they were still there, tugging at the edge of his consciousness. Stephen fought the urge to cry as the full extent of her pain hit him. What was that?

  “I’m so sorry, Stephen. I should not have directed you to do that without helping you put up some defensive barriers. It was quite careless of me. Take my hand. I can bring you some comfort as your system flows back in balance. And here, the food has come. Take some nourishment.”

  Stephen eyed the food with trepidation. It looked like little squares of colored Jell-O. Most assuredly not his mother’s cooking.

  “Please eat. See?” she motioned, as she ate a bite. “It will help.”

  He followed her example, ate a mouthful, and felt curious feelings of satisfaction, followed by metallic aftertastes, although very little taste sensations. He swallowed and ate more.

  “Feeling better?” she asked, nodding encouragingly.

  “Yes, some. I would like to hear more though, know more.”

  “You will but not tonight. You must rest. This is a lot for a newcomer to take in. I will take you to your sleeping quarters, where you need to rejuvenate.”

  “Rejuvenate? You do talk funny.” Stephen allowed himself to be led, as onlookers scrutinized him, down a long hallway with many doors. Arista came to a stop in front of one, opened it, and guided him inside. A low light illuminated the room. After the unusual events and emotions of the day, exhaustion had set in. Stephen could barely put one foot in front of the other. Suddenly overcome, he mumbled, “I’m really more tired than I thought. I’m not sure I can keep my eyes open. This is embarrassing.”

  Arista moved to his side, guiding him the last few steps. “It’s quite all right. I completely understand. You need to rest.”

  “I’m really not sure what’s wrong with me,” Stephen said, as he sat on the bed and pulled off his shoes. He lay down and was instantly asleep.

  This is fortunate and will make my tasks so much easier this night, Arista thought, as she swiftly and expertly set to work. Done only moments later, she glanced at Stephen as he peacefully slept and silently closed the door behind her.

  A CALMNESS PERMEATED Thomas through each and every muscle. He felt the depths of sleep yet was vaguely aware of his surroundings. He had succumbed to a grogginess that had completely taken him over. It was masked as sleep, yet he was aware on a subconscious level of not being asleep. No freedom to dream, no gentle falling to sleep, no restful relaxation, only a somewhat forced calmness. I’m being drugged, Thomas thought, not overly agitated. I need to remember when I wake up. Why…? Why?

  In his mind he meandered toward thoughts of home. Even if he couldn’t wake up, he could think in a somewhat clumsy manner. Maybe, when I open my eyes, I will find this has been a crazy dream brought on by bad food or a blow to the head. Random thoughts popped up without being held back by his conscious mind—as was normally the case. Ma’s cooking… Belle’s bouncy curls. Mary’s comforting smile. Pa’s approving nod… The gentle roll of the countryside, the springtime planting season, bread fresh from the oven… My task, what is my task…? Mrs. Martin, school… Am I crazy? Home. I can see home.

  Through his mind’s eye, Thomas walked in the back door, paused, then continued on through the mudroom into the kitchen. Ma seemed to look directly at him, but her face showed no recognition. Ma! It’s me! Thomas screamed in silent agony, I’m here! Thomas followed the direction of her glance toward a tableful of all his favorites: mashed potatoes with gravy, biscuits, ham, and creamed corn. There sat Pa, just finishing grace, Ma, then Mary and Belle, next to an empty chair—his chair. As they began eating, Thomas felt himself drawn to the chair, pulled in by his desire to join in the personal conversations about daily life and all the “normal” activities of home.

  Thomas felt a smile form on his lips. His family. There they were. All he had to do was sit down. His moment of happiness quickly turned to heartache. It was as if he didn’t exist. He was a forgotten ghost. The familiar faces, the laughter—never had he felt so excluded.

  Even though he seemed to be invisible to his family, Thomas felt drawn to the house he knew so intimately. A path he had taken so many times before but never like this. Never as an unseen voyeur. Thomas took another cursory look at his ma and pa. “I wonder if they even miss me,” he murmured aloud. Uncomfortable staying there longer, Thomas continued around the corner to the dining room. The last night he remembered being here, the room had looked much different. Gone were the dark curtains with the stars taped to them; gone as well was the makeshift rocket ship his sisters had so lovingly put together. The room and chairs within were no longer a cockpit ready to blast off into space.

  Thomas walked through to the living room, where the radio could just barely be heard. He strained to make out the words, then recognized the radio series The Green Hornet. This was one activity he and his dad both enjoyed. A smile formed on his face as he remembered the unusual close moments they shared, listening to the radio show together.

  He stopped to sit in a familiar
chair, thinking about his next move in his strange situation. This must all be a dream, but it seems so real. Determined, Thomas instantly decided he wouldn’t leave, so he would always be a part of his family again. But then, just as quickly, he surmised this existence…this wasn’t life. It was something much, much less than his real life.

  As a low hum of conversation buzzed from the kitchen, a deepening ache grew inside him. From across the room, he caught sight again of the empty chair—his chair. This is where I belong, not on some strange planet assigned a task to do who-knows-what. “I still don’t know what!” he gasped. He got up and began the familiar trek up the stairs, past his sisters’ rooms, to his own domain. This was the place where he had been through many highs and lows, tough times full of discipline, as well as love and laughter, and much sickness as of late. Thomas grabbed the door knob and gave it a swift turn, fully expecting to see everything as it had been left on the evening of his birthday.

  He stood in the doorway, and his jaw dropped as he gaped at the figure on his bed. “This can’t be. It just can’t! How…? How…can…?” Confused, he rushed to his own bedside and confronted his mirror image. His fingers reached tentatively for the hand that was his own. Thomas’s grasp encountered nothing but air and space. He made no contact with the person on the bed. As he tried again and again and again, the result was the same. He simply could not touch “Thomas” who lay sleeping on the bed. He sucked in air as his heart raced. His gulps turned into sobs, and panic took hold. In pain and disbelief, Thomas tilted back his head, and a deep guttural sound escaped his mouth as he fell to his knees. “What…has…happened…to me?” he wailed.

  Time passed, and his cries gone unheard quieted. Uncertain how long he had been there, he blinked his eyes and lifted his head slowly. His gaze came into focus and rested on the familiar rock on the nightstand. The cool wind flowed through his open bedroom window, blowing on his face, the curtains dancing to their own silent rhythm, seeming oddly incongruent to the mood at hand, yet calming his fraying nerves. Resolve building, Thomas rose to his feet and stormed from his childhood room.