Return of Philon

by Michael R Zadai

  Emma and Chad lunged forward to assist their friend, but the strong arms of Meliose intercepted them.

  “Let me go to him!” screamed Emma.

  Attempting to console her, Abriel quickly interjected, “Wait Emma. Watch and see.”

  Nate lay before the Frame in a fetal position, the screaming had ceased, and he seemed to be in a still peace.

  Historus explained, “The Truth is being revealed to Nate. And it comes with fire and pain, and once the Lie has been exposed within him and his will is married to the Truth, the peace of Philon fills his soul.”

  Chad remembered his time with Abba, Philon, and Life Weaver, “It is the Truth of the Image Maker, isn’t it Historus?”

  “Yes, it is my young friend.”

  Meliose released Emma and Chad.

  Emma lamented, “Nate is a good man. But I, I have too many regrets, too much shame.”

  Abriel knelt down on one knee before her, and holding her hand, tears sliding down his noble cheeks, in hushed tones said to her, “Dear Emma, the love of the Image Maker eclipses your regrets and summons you to be who He has always known you to be in his own heart. Trust him.”

  Emma gripped his strong Chayilian hand, and finding courage from his words, she approached the Frame.

  Meliose whispered, “Each experience is different and unique. Abba knows us, each one of us.”

  As Emma softly touched the Frame and slowly ran her fingers over the ancient writings, tears filled her eyes, until she collapsed into a heap on the floor, her cheek hard against the Frame. Her sighing gave way to deep, surging moans, as if she were being immersed into a great sorrow. And she was. Passing through her mind’s eye, she witnessed Philon violently nailed to the Frame and the cruel faces and dull eyes of those who treated him so. Then she screamed in terror, as she beheld herself in the mob, shaking her fists at him, and cursing his name. Emma lay sobbing on the floor, clutching the corner of the Frame.

  A voice gently called her, “Emma.”

  Her hand no longer felt the wooden corner of the Frame, but instead, she felt soft linen. She looked up to see Philon reaching down to her, brushing back her hair, and taking her chin in his hand, he said to her, “Emma, I forgive you. Rise and be who I called you to be.” As she rose to her feet his face became as light, and the light dimmed until he was no more. She stood motionless, staring, still unaware that she was in the presence of her friends.

  Nate gently laid his hand on her shoulder and whispered, “Welcome back Emma…seems you have met Philon.”

  Scanning the room with new eyes, Emma ran and hugged the Chayil, Nate, and Chad.

  Looking at Chad, she questioned him, “You too, Chad?”

  “Yeppers! Me too! Philon is awesome!”

  Abriel motioned his friends to gather close to hear him. “You are the Song Bearers. We invite you into the Image Maker’s Song!”

  Suddenly it seemed the empty room was filled with Chayil, their wings outstretched, a brilliant outshining from their faces.

  Abriel and Meliose were gleaming, there mighty arms outstretched upward.

  Then, a song unlike any the humans had ever heard, and what seemed to be streams of light, poured forth from their mouths, filling the room.

  Nate, Chad, and Emma were enraptured in the moment, as the streams of light entered their mouths, eyes, ears, and noses, seeping into their innermost being, until the song burst forth from their mouths as well, joining their cosmic counterparts in an ecstatic jubilation!

  On the other side of Noab, the song reached the ears of the Muspellum Captain, Damios. His face turning sour, he clamped his hands over his ears, attempting, yet fruitlessly, to muffle the sound.

  Groans and growls could be heard down the dark, dank corridors of the Castle.

  Primus screamed violently, shaking his fist toward the sky.

  Satrina, startled, unaware of the song’s effect, rushed to his side, “What is it my darling!”

  Falling to his knees and pulling at her waist, pleaded, “Make it stop Satrina! Make it stop!”

  Satrina rushed to the open balcony of their suite and waving her arms in slow circles, began to chant dark mutterings:

  “Netherlife’s shroud

  Come and settle

  With darkness mettle

  And with light do battle.”

  A dense fog settled upon the castle, not one from sea, or one that sinks from the skies, but a hellish fog that mystifies.

  The Muspellum fell into a deep sleep, the only escape Satrina could provide from the Song’s torturous tone.

  “What is happening?” she mumbled to herself as she cradled Primus in her arms. “I will search this matter out my dear one! I will make them pay!”

  ◆◆◆

  Back at the empty shop, Nate, Chad, and Emma sat quietly on the floor listening to Abriel’s instruction.

  “You three are the first fruits of the rebirth of your race. No one will understand you. But please know this, what you have experienced will continue to unfold in your hearts as the Life Weaver shares Abba’s love with you, the same love with which He so loves His Son, Philon. We will be with you, but unseen for the most part. You must now discover what you have been included into. And I promise you this, if you simply share what has touched you this day, and let the Song touch those who hear you, soon it will cover the earth!”

  With that, Abriel and Meliose walked out of the vacant shop and disappeared into the city.

  “I think we should meet here, often, and sing the song,” Emma suggested.

  “Yes! That sounds cool to me!” Chad exclaimed.

  “Agreed then!” Nate said.

  “But one thing,” Chad chimed, “other than the awesome paint work in here, we have no furniture, no fridge, drinks.”

  Just then, a truck pulled up, its flashers on.

  Two men jumped out of the truck, one opened up the back of the truck, and the other came in through the front door.

  “Excuse me, is there a Nate here?”

  “Yes sir, that’s me.”

  “Please sign here for the delivery of some furniture, refrigerator, rugs, lamps, and other accessories please.”

  As Nate signs, he quizzes the truck driver, “Who gave the authorization for these items?”

  “I don’t know sir, I just deliver ‘em.”

  When the two were finished unloading, Nate and Chad, under Emma’s direction of course, carefully placed all the items dressing the once empty shop with proper décor.

  “Hmmm, well, what shall we name our shop?”

  Practically in unison, Nate and Emma responded, “The Song Shop!”

  Chapter 5

  And so, without fanfare, The Song Shop opened its door to the public of Noab.

  A single musical note hung on its marquee, with the bold words Song Shop emblazoned on each side of the quarter note. Inside Historus sat patiently, waiting for their first visitor, and calmly pointed out, “I know what you’re thinking.”

  “You can know our thoughts!” Chad asked.

  “Ummm, nada, Chad. It was a figure of speech.”

  Emma giggled and Nate ignored the conversation. Instead, he was standing off to the side of the front window awed by the crowds of people walking about the mall. “We have better things to do in the country,” he lamented.

  Unexpectedly the front door slowly swung open and a woman entered. Emma was stunned. She never thought she would ever see her again.

  Desuba walked in, nervously pushing her hair aside and back, her eyes darting about the shop. She walked past Emma as if she did not exist and made a beeline to the Frame of Story.

  Chad approached her, “May I assist you ma’am?”

  What happened next sent chills up his spine.

  She turned and lunged at him, her eyes wide-eyed and glazed over, her hands desperately clawing at him, screeching like a banshee!

  But instead of running from her maniacal outburst, he was instantly filled with the Song, and it rolled off his lips like a bub
bling stream and as it reached her ears, she stopped, cupping her hands tightly over her ears, screaming in pain, and falling to the floor.

  Emma and Nate joined Chad in the Song, until at last she quieted herself.

  Historus approached her, knowing full well what insidious power possessed her. “She is fading into the Void. With each passing day, she is losing her personality, her soul, the identity Abba gave her long ago.”

  Emma, uneasy, inquired, “What do you mean, long ago?’

  “Well Emma, in a moment, you will soon understand.”

  Historus stood over Desuba, and his countenance slowly began to radiate a scintillate, shiny light, until he transformed into his Chayilean form. “Look at me Desuba!” he commanded.

  “No!” she hissed.

  “Look at me Desuba!”

  She rose up like a crazed animal preparing to strike. Her face lowered, her blackened eyes challenging his presence.

  “Look at me Desuba, in Philon’s name!”

  Her face contorted violently, as if she were struggling to be free of some power.

  Historus stepped aside, and before her stood the Frame of Story. “Your freedom awaits you there Desuba. Just choose it.”

  In slow, anguished steps, she shuffled forward, her hands reaching longingly for the Frame. When at last she reached it, she clutched one side and slid down, crumbling on the floor, grasping the bottom of the Frame in desperation.

  Inside the Frame, colors and bursts of light swirled in busy motions until a crystalline ball of light appeared, its warm beams filling the room and bathing all with insight and understanding.

  The Life Weaver’s voice, his words alive in their ears and touching each sense with knowledge, spoke, “Before time, before space, before any created thing in this universe, Desuba, you were conceived in the Image Maker’s mind and heart. Before you drew your first breath, or thought your first thought, you were included, chosen, celebrated, destined to be beloved.”

  These living words strengthened Desuba. She rose to her feet, standing upright, for the first time, without the cumbersome weight of shame.

  “This Age passes, a new one is dawning. The Consummation approaches. Even so, dear one, your shame ends this day, and a new day begins.”

  As if she knew instinctively what to do, her eyes searched desperately for Philon’s dried blood, and upon finding it, her fingers pressed into the stains, and in that moment she knew, with words unspoken, that Philon willingly bore her shame in his body, pinned to the Frame so long ago. But her peace was short-lived, for the Netherlife shook her body, violently throwing her to the floor.

  “Emma,” Life Weave calmly summoned, “go to her and command the Netherlife to leave her soul and body.”

  Emma would never have considered such bold action, but nevertheless, empowered by His words, she stood over Desuba and shouted, “In the name of Philon, Netherlife, leave her! My sister! Be free!”

  Her body shaking, her eyes rolled back in her head, a stank, dark midst seeped out of her nostrils, ears, eyes and mouth and dissipated in the glory of the Life Weaver’s presence.

  Emma knelt down and held Desuba, whose weeping was soon replaced upon her lips with the Song!

  As the Life Weaver’s face faded slowly into a faint sketch, he said, “My daughter, your new name is Ahuva, beloved.”

  Ahuva’s face shone with newfound life! She and Emma locked arms and danced and sang the Song, and soon, Chad and Nate joined the dance, while Historus laughed and clapped his hands keeping beat to the childish ruckus!

  But the celebration was interrupted by a shrill voice, “What on earth is going on in here!”

  Peeking out the front window, Nate announced, “It’s her, the woman from The Heart Shop who kicked me out that day.”

  Nate opened the door, smiled and said, “Well, we would gladly tell you, miss…?”

  “Melinda.”

  Melinda waltzed into The Song Shop, oblivious as to what she was walking into!

  “We will gladly tell you what all the partying is about,” Historus noted, “if you tell us why you feel the need to wear that personality mask?

  Melinda worked in The Heart Shop, and in The Heart Shop were masks for all phases and facets of life. Masks for social acceptance, to hide and soothe the timid soul who feared rejection. There were masks to portray strength for those who had no real confidence in themselves. There were masks for those who delighted in manipulating people, and even masks for those who wished to be controlled by others.

  Masking was a complex strategy implemented in an effort to hide one’s heart. Conversely, it was also used, however feebly, in an attempt to discover one’s heart. You see no one really knew themselves at all in Noab, although they were ashamed to admit it. So they tried wearing mask after lifeless mask as they sought to discover themselves and hide themselves too. They would have been mortified had anyone ever known just how deeply they struggled with their sense of identity. When donned, a mask would synthesize with the contours and complexion of the wearers face. Its organic design, chemically integrated into the nervous system, disguised natural unwanted emotional responses, and instead, allowed for visible responses desired by the wearer.

  Having learned over time to guard their hearts at all costs, practioners became masters of disguise. Fearing the dreaded risk of rejection and its ensuing pain and sorrow, they refused to avail themselves to honest and true relationships. Additionally, they had found masking to be a sure-fire way of capturing and possessing what they so yearned to obtain in all their deception and manipulation: risk free relationships. It was much easier to keep people guessing than to let them know how one might really feel. Tragically, they had squandered that most precious treasure in relationship, the willingness to know and be known honestly, from the heart.

  Nervously brushing her hair back and tidying up here pantsuit, she stuttered, “Oh, well, I…how do you know I am wearing one? The one I am wearing is the most recent design. No one should be able to notice it, no one at all!”

  Historus, never the shy one, approached her and gazed into her eyes, while she sheepishly stood still. “Hmmm, yes there is a beautiful woman in there, behind that mask. Why on earth do you feel the need to wear it?”

  “That is a very personal question, uh, what is your name, again?”

  Bowing before her in a gentlemanly fashion, he replied, “Historus.”

  Her face flushed red, for no man had ever treated her with such dignity.

  She then walked over to the others and sat down on a big cushiony couch. “Why, it’s what is in style of course. There are very few Noabians who do not. And I can see from all of you that you are not in style.”

  Chad quickly examined his clothing only to have Nate nudge him, rolling his eyes, “She is talking about masking, not your clothes.”

  Emma asked, “What are you really like Melinda?”

  “Well, I am…a good manager of The Heart Shop, of course.”

  “That’s not what I asked you. Who are you Melinda, deep down inside?”

  “No one asks those questions. At least not anyone I know.”

  Abuva, her eyes still wet from her tears of joy and her heart dancing in her chest jumped to her feet, “Melinda! All the noise you heard was me getting free of the curse of shame in my life! I am free Melinda!”

  Melinda, taken aback by such emotional expression shot back, “Who are you?”

  “I am Abuva! Beloved of the Image Maker!”

  “Who?”

  Abuva plopped down next to Melinda who pulled away as far as the end of the couch would let her, which was not very far as she sat herself on the end.

  “You don’t know who the Image Maker is?”

  “No, I do not.”

  “He made you Melinda, and me, and…” pointing to each of her compatriots one at a time, “and them!”

  “But Prince Lucius says…”

  But before she could utter another word, Abuva interrupted, “Forget Prince Lucius. I served him i
n the Castle. I know him. And believe me, he is not who you think he is.”

  “Treason!”

  “Go Melinda,” Abuva said, pointing to the Frame, “go and see if the Image Maker is real.”

  “The Frame?”

  Historus pointed the Frame, “Go and discover who you really are Melinda.”

  She rose and walked toward the Frame, her curiosity pulling her closer. “Hmmm,” she slowly inspected the Frame, “interesting artifact you all have here.” Then, having felt satisfied with her inspection, she squared herself directly in front of the mirror and peered into its blankness, only to see herself. “I don’t see anything, you all spook me!”

  Suddenly, her image began to change, slowly in front of her very eyes!

  “Wha…wha… what is going on here?”

  Emma smiled at Abuva, who likewise winked back at her newfound friend.

  A young woman’s face appeared in the mirror. Her countenance glowing, she seemed happy and alive.

  Emma carefully came to Melinda’s side and inquired, “Who is that, Melinda?”

  “It’s…it’s me,” her voice trailing off mournfully. “That is me, with no mask covering my face. It is me, before, before…he…raped me.”

  Emma, careful upon the ground she now walked, gently asked, “Who raped you Melinda?”

  “My Uncle!” she screamed. “My flesh and blood uncle!” Her clenched fists pounded both sides of the Frame. “Why! Why! Why!” Her hands gripped the sides of the Frame, her side of her face pressing hard against its glass.

  “Come with me Melinda,” a voice calmly said, and at once, she disappeared into the Frame’s mirror.

  “Woah, woah, woah!” Emma yelled, “do something Historus!”

  “My dear Emma, Melinda has been taken by Life Weaver into her story. We must wait, he will return with her safely.”

  Melinda was held securely in the arms of Life Weaver, as they flew swiftly into the bygone days of her life.

  Suddenly, she found herself standing on a sidewalk in the neighborhood she grew up in.