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Endless Page 12

by S. B. Niccum


  “Thanks to that, Dayspring and Kerubiel had to meet. They agreed on a prisoner exchange. He wasn’t about to let me rot in some Seraph prison, even if I deserved it.”

  I’m still staring at him; I can’t believe that the glorious angel before me is a murderer.

  “Was a murderer,” he rectifies my unspoken thoughts. “And don’t forget that it was war. But you’re right.” He takes in a deep breath, owning my severe judgment of him. “I’m not telling you this to make excuses for myself; I simply want you to understand.” He starts pacing the room that now looks ridiculously small for him.

  “Needless to say, after the war was over, I wasn’t much nicer. I married and was a terrible husband. Later I became a father and was quite inept at that as well. When I died, I simply could not exist among those who were wholesome and guilt-free. My shame imprisoned me, and kept me there for a long, long, time.”

  “Who got you out?”

  He chuckles a mirthless laugh, “As always, Kerubiel.”

  I nod, understanding.

  “Once I was out, I still felt…odd, like I didn’t belong. Like you feel right now,” he says and I look up, shocked at how well he picked up on that particular feeling that I had been keeping at bay. “I could see the damage and the pain that I had caused my family. Their looks of mistrust were too much to bear, so I decided to put a quick end to it all.”

  “What did you do?” I gasp.

  “I Opened—fast! I don’t recommend it to just anyone. In fact, I don’t recommend it period. But you might be the exception.”

  “So once you Opened, everyone forgave you?”

  “Among those who are Open, forgiveness comes naturally.”

  “That’s nice.” I pause to think what that would be like. I have a hard time picturing a world where people don’t hold grudges and readily forgive each other. In fact, I can’t fathom it, but it does sound lovely. “So…how will it work?”

  A wide grin spreads across Drymus’ face as he turns and stands right before me, looming over me like a snowy avalanche. He then extends one huge hand toward my face, as if he were going to smother me.

  “I thought this would be fast! You said, ‘I know the fast way’,” I hiss. “But we’ve been here for—for,” I look around the barren room for any signs of time passage, but I see none other than my tired mind screaming that I’ve been at this for way too long, and want no more of it.

  Every time I see that mammoth hand of his plunging its way down toward my head, I know I’d better catch my breath, because the minute those sausage-size fingers make contact with my cranium, I’ll be dunked once more into the deep waters of remembrance. Once I’m down there it feels exactly like I’m drowning. Every time I’m plunged into a memory, I feel like my lungs are about to collapse for lack of air. I have to keep reminding myself that I don’t need air, that I’m already dead, that I have no need for breathing. Yet, the feeling of drowning remains, and when I come out of the memory I’m gasping and gulping, and wishing I could breathe again.

  Retrieving memories is done in the same way as Dayspring did it, when she wanted me to remember my promise to be her Isa’ahot—by placing one huge hand on the side of my face. It reminds me of the Vulcan mind-meld, only that Drymus’ hands are so enormous that instead of just touching my temple and my cheek, his hand wraps all the way around my head. I often fear that if he’s not careful he’s going to rip it off. The Probe—of course—immediately shows my many disturbing fears, mixed with some old Star Trek episodes, where Spock performs this task. To say that Drymus finds this humorous is a complete understatement. He still suppresses a smile every time his hand has to make contact with my head, and once or twice, I’ve caught him mockingly saying, “My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts.” The jerk! It is one thing to have my every thought revealed to him, it’s quite another to see him making fun of them.

  “You humans are such thespians,” he laughs with a shake of his head.

  “Oh yeah? How do Cherubs entertain themselves?”

  “Not by dressing up and pretending to be someone else,” he says smugly. “We have sports. One in particular is the most entertaining of all. It’s a combination of what Earthlings call martial arts, fire dancing, and sword fighting. It’s really—”

  “Yeah, yeah…really remarkable, a true show of skill and prowess,” I mimic mockingly, with my best human thespian skills. When he sees the smirk on my face, he’s reminded of his torturous task, and he promptly goes back to it.

  Besides this brief respite, the rest of this process has been nothing but painful, shameful, and demoralizing. We are working our way backwards through time, and it’s getting harder and harder to recall the events on my own. So he’s been bringing the memories forward with the mind-meld thingy, and all I know is that I’m drowning, over and over again the deeper we go.

  “Trust me, Tess, this is fast.” Drymus assures me, looking like he’s mustering some patience from somewhere deep inside.

  “But we’ve been here forever!”

  “How long do you think it feels like to Alex?” He eggs me on with that biting remark, just like a personal trainer. By now, Drymus knows me better than anyone in the whole universe. He has seen through that horrible little T.V. all my intentions and all my thoughts, expressed or otherwise. He knows that at this point, the only reason I have to keep going is Alex.

  “I’m so tired. I can’t—”

  “Impossible,” he cuts me off with a bark. “You have no physical limitations. Your mind is fighting you because you don’t want to deal with the issues at hand.”

  Right again. But my mind is tired—sick and tired. I thought that I had been pretty good in life. I mean, didn’t I accomplish my mission on Earth? Wasn’t I a pretty good person?

  “You were pretty good, Tess, but no one is perfect. You can’t fully Open until you realize one crucial point.”

  “And what is that? Pray, tell me!” I say sarcastically, swinging my arms wide to make my point.

  Drymus stands and rakes his long white hair with his fingertips. His hair is thick, like horse’s hair, and smooth and straight like fine silk. Only now do I realize that it is nearly to his waist in length. He really is an impressive specimen.

  “Thanks,” he acknowledges my unspoken complements. “But we are here to talk about you,” he tries to sound annoyed, but I know that deep inside he’s amused by my mind’s constant rambling. “Now focus, Tess,” he orders, in a serious tone now. “Tell me, how do you feel right now?”

  I think for a moment and try to focus. “I feel…frustrated, ashamed, sorry, disappointed in myself…should I continue?”

  “No. Let’s focus on one of these. Sorry. What do you feel sorry about?”

  “I feel sorry that I did some of those things, that I thought those awful thoughts, that I let them enter my mind and fester there.”

  “Okay, so you feel sorry for yourself?”

  I pause and think about that. For some reason this seems important. “No.” I say finally. “I don’t feel sorry for myself.”

  “Then who? Who do you feel sorry for? Why is this sorrow painful to you?”

  There is a long silence while I think. I know he can read my every thought, so I don’t try to verbalize anything. I simply search and search for some elusive answer I know is edging closer to me.

  “Him!”

  Drymus, who had been swiveling on his stool, turns suddenly toward me with a look of shock in his eyes. No, it isn’t shock; it’s more like “Eureka!”

  Chapter 10

  “Him who?” he asks softly and encouragingly.

  “Him, the First One. He has many names on Earth.”

  “Why Him? Why do you feel sorry for Him?” Drymus presses.

  “Because…I made Him suffer, for me.” The moment those words slip out of my mouth, a torrent of grief pours out of me. Grief so intense that I think I will drown in it! Pain and sorrow so deep that I think my heart will break. Exquisite. That’s what it is, exqu
isite pain, pure and undiluted pain for all my sins and mistakes, whether I meant them or not.

  “I’m sorry,” I groan as I crumble to the floor in one neat little heap. Why is it that in low times, we reach for the ground? Is it because, like Drymus said, we were made from it? Because we are dust, and my body is buried somewhere deep in the earth whence it came from, and now, even as I’m separated from it, my soul reaches for it?

  I start begging for His help to release me from this torment. “I’m sorry,” I cry again, and the moment I do, I feel intensely guilty for even asking for release from my pains. I feel immediate shame for even daring to ask for His help. How could I? He, who never did anything wrong! How could I even ask for His help now, when in doing so, I would be adding to His suffering?”

  “Yes, Tess,” Drymus encourages, looking almost wild with excitement. “Now you’re getting it.”

  I shut my eyes and ignore my Spirit Guide. My mind is buried in shame, real shame this time. Not the shame of having Drymus sifting through all my personal garbage, but the shame of the pain I’ve caused Him. Why would He ever forgive me? I wish I were dust again.

  The moment I think that, I feel light coming from somewhere behind me. I open my eyes and turn, only to find that I’m no longer in the little white room, but on a hillside that gently slopes down toward a lake. There’s a man sitting near the water. I know Him at once, not from pictures, or even Dayspring’s wedding, but from the feeling of familiarity, and from the marks that He bears on His feet and hands.

  At that moment, it seems as if He is and has always been an integral part of my life. I feel as if He has been present all along, even while Drymus was Opening me—only I didn’t realize it—just like that poem of the footprints in the sand…He has been with me all along!

  With a genial wave of the hand, he calls me to Him. I obey, not sure why He would even want me near Him. He smiles broadly and encouragingly.

  “I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry,” is all I can say as I approach and throw myself at his feet—his pierced feet. He’s been with me, so He knows all about me and what I’ve done. He knows that what’s going on out there in the mortal realm is entirely my fault. He knows all of it. But as He lifts my chin with his hand, I see that His gaze has compassion in it. And instead of a verbal answer to my former pleas, He responds in a much more complete way—feelings. His penetrating eyes never look away from my own, even when mine stray to the wounds on his hands.

  Then a burning fills me, a very physical burning, and with it, an all-encompassing feeling of love—intense, pure, whole, satisfying—love unlike any other. My whole frame fills with it and purges all the guilt, sorrow, and darkness that has been part of me for so long. As the dross falls away from my soul, His light and love engulf me and I feel like singing.

  The exquisite pain. Gone. The shame. Gone. The guilt, the remorse, and the burden—gone! I can’t even seem to remember any of it! The sting, the ache, the loneliness, and the fear are all gone. For the first time in my whole existence I know without a doubt that I’m important, and that I matter to Him.

  No. Not just me. Everyone. We all matter.

  Suddenly I understand. Every single human life that has ever passed through Earth, or will ever pass, however briefly, matters! Good and bad…they all matter! And now my heart yearns for them all! Unknown as they are to me, they matter and I love them—even Agatha, Eros, Eugenia and countless others—I love them like I never thought I could. They need to be saved just as much as I needed to be!

  I look into His eyes, and He sheds the tears that I can’t. How I wish I could join Him! How I wish I could repay Him this marvelous gift and undo all the damage I’ve unleashed on Earth.

  His answer, again, comes in thought form, “You can…” He says, and makes me see a way for me to help. I can see it clearly in my mind, and when I look back at Him to thank Him, He’s gone. But the feeling remains, the light, the warmth, the message, it all remains, and I thank Him again. Perhaps this is the greatest gift of all—that the peace remains—and is not gone with Him like it was the last time I saw Him.

  I can no longer see His face, but I know He smiles in reply to my resolve and my grateful heart. The fact that He is pleased with me fills me with hope and determination.

  I turn to walk away from the spot, but in turning back, I find myself back in the room with Drymus, who looks up the moment I materialize.

  “I like the way you look,” he states, grinning.

  I look back at him, not knowing what he means.

  “I can see right through you.” He laughs, “well, let’s just say that your thoughts are as transparent as your form. No Vulcan mind-meld needed,” he adds with a crooked smile.

  I grin and curtsy.

  “I can see now why Dayspring likes you so much,” He chuckles, in my head.

  I look up at him and stare, a bit shocked to hear him telepathically, just like I used to hear Alex.

  “It’s called the Link,” he explains. “For some reason, you and your Alex have had a natural Link since, well, I’ve never known you two not to have it.” He brings up a memory of my existence before mortal life. The moment he alludes to it, I remember it in great detail.

  “Is that why we’ve been able to dream those vivid dreams, and to get into each other’s head?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do lots of other people have the same ability?”

  “It’s rare, but not unheard of. Once you Open, you can connect through the Link with other beings who are Open as well. But it doesn’t become really cool until you resurrect and become immortal.”

  “How so?”

  “When your planet and all the beings are judged and resurrected, then…” Drymus nods and sighs approvingly. “Then it gets really fun!” He tucks his arms under his wings and starts pacing. “You see, everything takes back its physical form, people, plants, animals, your whole planet even! When that day comes, you will experience the Link in full force. You will feel what it’s like to be a tree or a bird. You will know what it’s like to be a planet, to orbit, to quake, and rend, to explode in magma from within. You’ll know how the ocean feels when one of its waves crashes against a rocky shore. It’s incredible!” Drymus’ eyes look moist, and thanks to the Link, now I know through him what that feels like too. It’s only a portion of what the real feeling of Linking in that manner would feel like, but it’s wonderful still.

  “What happens to those who never Open?” I was thinking of Agatha, and Drymus nods, understanding what I mean.

  “Everyone resurrects, but not everyone will inherit your Earth. Your home planet is only reserved for those who accept Him and Open. If you don’t, you still get to live forever, but the place will not be as glorious. It will be some other planet, not your mother Earth. You can never fully feel whole without your mother planet.”

  “Is that where Hell comes in?”

  “Sort of, Hell is eternal guilt and remorse, not a place. Those who choose to carry this guilt around forever will never feel comfortable around a bunch of people who can read minds. It’s just nature. They will get a planet more suited to what they feel comfortable with, an imperfect planet that matches their natures. The Eternals don’t wish anyone pain. They are just, fair, and merciful. They will deal justly with all.” Drymus smiles and breaks the Link. “So, now you’re Open!”

  “I have one more question for you.”

  Drymus raises his eyebrows, “It’s not like you can’t read my mind, but shoot.”

  “You said that guilt and remorse are our Hells. Why do you still carry yours? You are Open, and immortal, so shouldn’t you be rid of that?”

  He stares at me unflinchingly for a while; then one corner of his mouth twitches upward. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

  I grin in return.

  He nods and then his smile fades.

  “I’ve been forgiven and cleansed, but I carry part of my remorse around as a reminder. I’ve been told to let it go…but I’m still working on it.”<
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  I fly up and wrap my arms around his huge neck, squeezing him tight, then plant a kiss on his cheek. A minute ago I hated him, now I love him.

  My screams have no echo. The moment they escape my lips they die. Everything around me is dead, dark, and empty. I question everything now. I no longer know why I even bothered to come here. It was to help her, I think, but I’m not sure any more.

  “Alex!”

  “Who? What?” I turn at what I think is a sound, and see nothing but darkness. Did someone really call my name or am I hallucinating again?

  “Right here! Snap out of it, son!” again that soft sound.

  “Uh?” I look around again and vaguely I see a nebulous figure in the distance, then a much brighter one hovering right behind it. I shield my eyes and try to focus again.

  “It’s me, Leo.”

  “Leo?”

  “Tess’ dad. Remember?” The man is whispering and I can hardly hear him. Why bother whispering?

  “What are you doing out there?”

  “Shush, not so loud!” Leo and the bright light approach me, blinding me in the process.

  “I can’t see anything. Can’t you turn that off, or dim it somehow?”

  “Sorry, it doesn’t work that way. I’m bright now,” a woman says softly. Her voice reminds me of hers. I hate her right away and recoil from them.

  “Don’t be afraid, it’s just my wife, Irene. She’s come to get us out.”

  “Ha!” I laugh, cynically. “What’s the point? It’s all over now.”

  “It’s not! We can leave! Come on, take my hand.” I faintly see a white hand in front of me, but I’m not about to take it. “Vamos! Come on, don’t be difficult,” he presses raising his voice just an octave, only to be shushed by his wife.

 

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