Loose Ends and What Knots
By Jeffrey Hancock
The Odyssey of Nathan Embers
Copyright 2018
Table of Contents
Dedication
Forward
The Aftermath
The Funeral
The Package
Payback
A Little Tea Party
Not Again
Moiraine’s Star
To The Pain
Acknowledgments
Dedication
I would like to dedicate this novel to my wife Barbara and my daughter. Their patience with my endless prattling on about this story and the future adventures of Nathan Embers has given me the strength to put fingers to keyboard. At last, the goblins in my head have hushed their voices.
Forward
This is not a standalone novella. I highly recommend you first read The Forging: The Odyssey of Nathan Embers.
What happened to the cast and crew of The Forging? Did Moiraine return home safe and sound? What of Marcy? What happened to Ms. Refrain and her flying monkeys? Is Mr. Waters still a dick? How did Nathan dispose of the body? Inquiring minds want to know. I will answer one question here, though. Diego, the cat, is still pretty much a cat.
This collection of short stories answers most questions and raises a few of its own from The Forging.
The Aftermath
We retrieved Moiraine from John’s friends at the American Legion Hall and put her to bed straight away. It is late, so she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. John offered to help finish picking up, but Char would hear none of it. We said our goodbyes to John, and he left for his home.
Char and I walked out into the living room and surveyed what was left. Char had started cleaning while I had been out of it, but there is still a little left to do. I started moving the big furniture back in place while Char started dusting. We lost quite a bit of the small stuff, a frame here and there, and some tchotchkes. Thank God, the Christmas decorations weren’t out. Charlene would have been beside herself if any of those had been destroyed. I checked out the television, and it is working fine. Charlene will be disappointed. She has always had a personal animus against television, for some reason. I’ve never understood why. I watched as Char rearranged what remained on the shelves of the entertainment center. She cleared the top-most center shelf of all items. She retrieved my sword from where it sat propped up in the corner. She examined it. I saw her stand there for a moment. She gave a slight nod and placed my sword on the top-most center shelf.
“Nathan, we need a proper holder for the sword,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Maybe my dad can throw something together.”
“I thought you didn’t like it. Now, you give it a place of honor. Why?"
“Guns were useless against that… that… whatever it was. But you defeated the monster with your sword. It earned a place of honor in our home.”
“And me, Charlene, did I earn a place of honor in our home?” I asked in a tone which conveyed my doubts.
“Nathan, you have always held a place of honor in our home. Why would you think otherwise?” Char asked as she walked to me and took my hand.
“I have failed at so many endeavors in life. I failed when Moiraine was born.”
“That is not true, and you know I don’t like it when you say it,” Char flared.
“A man knows when he has failed. I’ve also failed at finding a decent job so I can provide for our family. I failed to protect you at the corner.” I let go of Char’s hand and turned from her and bemoaned, “I failed to put a bullet in the thing’s head when I had him in my sights.”
Charlene grabbed my shoulders and turned me back around to face her. She pushed my chin up, so our eyes met. “My father nearly cut the creature in two with his shotgun. It made no difference. If you had pulled the trigger, it would have changed nothing.” After a few moments, Char asked, “Nathan, why didn’t you pull the trigger?”
I swallowed hard and paused a moment, “I didn’t want to be a murderer.”
“Nathan, your choice was anything but a failure.” Reaching up with both hands, she held my cheeks and gently pulled me down to her lips for a tender kiss. After the kiss, she slowly pulled away and returned to her cleaning.
After a few more minutes of tidying up, I looked around. We had made decent progress in getting our home back in order except for one last chore.
I went out to the backyard where we kept our trashcans. I dug through the garbage until I found the used coffee can I knew was with the rest of the garbage. I took it back into the house and cleaned it.
“What’s the can for?” Charlene asked as I finished up.
I walked over to the pile of debris, which was once Mark Galos. I stood there a moment and contemplated my task. “I thought I would put Mark’s remains into this and send them to the police. They will confirm it is his body and see to it his remains are returned to his family.” I bent down. With a dustpan and whisk broom in hand, I started sweeping up the dried-up bits and pieces of Mark’s body and placed them into the large coffee can.
“Nathan, is that important right now? I mean with all this…” she spread her hands out and turned pointing to what remained of our living room. “We should put him in the trashcan along with all the other refuse. What he did to you, Moiraine, and what he did to me...” she started sobbing so hard I could no longer understand what she was saying. I put down the broom and dustpan and took Charlene up in my arms. She had been in control, but since the danger is past, cracks formed in her stoic exterior. I held her close. She buried her face deep into my shoulder. I whispered sounds of comfort and pet her hair while she let it all out. I could not understand her words through the tears, but her words weren’t important. Letting go of the fear and the uncertainty in our lives is what mattered. After a few minutes, she pulled away from me and wiped the tears from her face and eyes. She put on a brave face and asked, “What was that thing? It looked vaguely like the man who attacked us at the school crossing, but it looked more like some monster from those horror movies I hate.”
“All I have is theories and conjectures. What I do know for sure is it is not the true Mark Galos. I talked to his ghost before he traveled to the other side. Whatever it is, it had been living inside of Mark’s mind for most of his life.” I told her all this while I pulled her over to the couch. I urged her down, and we sat next to each other. We sat there for a few minutes taking it all in. She began crying again, but not uncontrollable sobbing only tears running down her face and dropping off her chin and making a puddle of sorrow.
She sat up straight and turned to me with panic on her face, “You said you trapped it in your mind.” I nodded. “Aren’t you afraid it will take control of you or, Heaven forbid, kill you as it did with Mark Galos?" She asked with increasing expression of horror.
“No. I am not worried. If I start slipping, I will tell you, and you can follow the carefully laid out plan I had which you so casually tossed aside when it did not suit you.” I gave Charlene the same look I give Moiraine when she does not listen. In a lighter voice, “Besides, my mind is pretty strong. Whatever it is, it took years to gain control of Mark. In the end, the Entity needed some heavy antipsychotic meds to destroy the life force of Mark Galos." Charlene accepted what I told her, but I still saw a hint of worry behind her eyes.
“Nathan, what are we going to do with Blossom?” She turned and looked at the old blanket which served as a death shroud covering her beloved pet. Don’t get me wrong. I loved Blossom too, but she had always been Char’s dog.
Dogs choose their owners, and Blossom chose Charlene. Blossom was a loyal dog, and she died a hero coming to the defense of her family and
home. She distracted the creature long enough for me to draw my sword and slice the head off the horror. Funny, in a way, I am a little jealous of Blossom. I am the one who is supposed to die for his family. Guilt started gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. I can see how if I indulge those thoughts, I would be fighting off another source of depression and migraines.
In a reassuring voice, “The body under the blanket is no longer Blossom. It is the empty vessel which once held her soul. Blossom is here,” I pointed to my heart, “and she is there,” I point to Char’s heart. “I say we bury her in the backyard. We’ll have a ceremony. A funeral for her will help Moiraine deal with Blossom’s loss.” I looked in Charlene’s eyes and said, “And help you deal with her loss also.” I realized I need closure, as well.
Char nodded yes and took my hand and squeezed it. “Nathan, I want us to make love. I want us to be together. I need comfort and reassurance. I need to feel safe." Charlene swallowed hard and spoke soft and tenderly, “I always feel safe in your arms, and it seems like we have been in such jeopardy for so long.”
“I wish we could make love right now, too, but you are under strict orders from the doctor. We could cuddle for a while.”
“Nathan, with your perfect memory, tell me, how many times, in our whole relationship, have we ever only cuddled?” She asked with a smirk on her face. I could see her healing had begun.
I answered, “None, but there is always a first time.” Charlene smiled at me with a twinkle in her eye.
As she stood from the couch, she announced, “I am tired. I’m going to bed.” She started walking to our bedroom when she said, “Goodnight.”
I started doing my nightly routine of checking windows and doors. After I made sure everything was locked up tight and secure, I went to spy on Moiraine as she slept in her bed. I opened her door quietly and looked inside. She is peacefully sleeping. On her bed is the teddy bear. It had been giving her comfort and courage to go on. She no longer had it in a death-grip. It is merely lying next to her. “That’s my girl, Moiraine,” I thought to myself. In a whisper, I said, “Goodnight Moiraine. Goodnight bear.” There was a strange trick of the light as I closed the door to Mo’s room. I could swear the bear winked at me.
I went back into the darkened living room and sat alone there in our recliner. My life has been one hell of an adventure lately. It is all over now. All except dealing with the Entity imprisoned in my mind. I have some research to do. A lack of information can kill you, and I plan to live to a ripe old age. One thing is certain, though. I can’t protect my family every day all day. It is the classic dilemma for comic book heroes. Most caped vigilantes forgo friends and family for fear of their loss, but you can’t let fear rule your life. They don’t see the struggle as what it is: a war. War is an ugly, nasty business. In a war, there are casualties, and sometimes those losses are loved ones. This is the dreadful truth which I fear I may have to face. The thought began to burn a hole in my mind.
“Nathan, come to bed. I want to cuddle.”
“I’ll be right there,” I declared most enthusiastically.
“Only cuddle, Nathan,” she replied most emphatically.
“Oh,” my disappointment could be heard in the tone I used in saying the one word. I went into our bedroom, climbed into bed next to Char, and cuddled. Once I felt her fall into the arms of Morpheus, I crawled out of bed; I needed a shower in the worst way. It had been a long, tough day of fighting monsters, thwarting evil, and all. My body ached in places I don’t remember having. I took a long hot shower before going to bed.
Char is still quietly sleeping, as I stepped into our bedroom to dry off. Next, I started to brush my teeth. Glancing behind me in the mirror, I saw a tall man, taller than me. He is standing there, smiling at me. He wore a uniform similar to the one the parasite in my mind is wearing. As I spat into the sink, I looked into the mirror at the intruder behind me and said, “Give me a minute to finish up, then I will kick your ass too.”
Wiping my mouth on a towel, I prepared myself. Wasn’t the hero supposed to get some much-needed rest after he saves the day? But wait, I am not the hero, Blossom was. Looking at my assailant in the mirror, I saw he still had a smile on his face. Well, I’m going to knock his smile off. Spinning quickly, I launched at him. We grappled against the dresser. I tried to pin him. What I would do with him if I am successful, I had no clue. He pulled a reverse and pinned me. I struggled, but his hold is too strong. Calling on my strength, it didn’t answer. I had spent all of my strength in my skirmish with the Entity inhabiting Mark Galos’ body. “Char! I need your help.” In the scuffle, I could hear her mumble a few words. As I glanced in her direction, I saw her roll over and steal most of the covers to boot. “Typical.” Hey, you know a man gets cold too sometimes.
“Quit your yelling. I am not your enemy. I am more your brother than foe. Stop your futile attempts at freedom. Let’s talk.”
Slowly I stopped my resisting, and his grip lessened until he released me altogether. “Who are you to say you’re my brother?” I asked. I stretched and worked my right shoulder. He had pinned me rock-hard. The armlock he put on me is this side of painful. His voice is familiar, but it is elusive. “Okay, brain get to work. I need an answer.”
“To be honest, I don’t recall my first given name. I have lived so many lives through the ages.” A look of sorrow touched his face as he slightly turned his head and looked away. “We have been together since your birth. So, you could say we are like brothers,” he pointed to my noggin. “We have been twins of the mind you might say.”
“Great.” I thought. “Another person playing in the Rube Goldberg machine of my mind.” Okay, I’ll bite. “How can I know you are telling the truth. Strange goings-on is the norm in my life lately. But before anything else, we need to take this out into the living room. I don’t want to disturb my wife. One of us at least should get some sleep.” We walked into the living room, and I motioned for him to take a seat. (You know manners and all.) Not wanting to be caught off guard, I stood by the entertainment center. This stranger took the seat, offered him, and made himself right at home. If he has been living with the bats in my belfry, this place is somewhat of his home too.
“Fair enough,” the stranger in my home agreed. “I have been there with you your whole life. Should I recite something only you would know? Something you did in private. What about all the embarrassing time you spent alone in the bathroom when you started puberty?”
“Every young man spends a lot of time alone in the bathroom at the onset of puberty. You’ll have to do better,” I scoffed.
“Yes, time alone with magazines is a little weak.” He sat there, contemplating a moment. “The girl in high school. What was her name? Terry, yes. When she came to you and told you…”
“Enough!” Anger flared inside me. “We are not going to talk about it. I believe you.” Sighing, I spoke softer. “Okay. You were there. But what do you think living rent-free in my melon gets you?”
“What do I receive?” He sat and thought a moment, “Nothing of course. I only wanted to thank you for freeing me. You don’t know what it’s like living inside someone else. I am a prisoner of their mind. Only ever watching and never to affect the world.”
“Wait a minute. I recognize your voice. You were telling me to murder Mark Galos when I had the chance,” I announced.
The stranger proclaimed, “Guilty as charged. I screamed as hard as I could, but you fought me. Thinking back, I believe what you saw was Mark Galos’ spirit. Oh, pretty cool being able to talk to spirits.”
“Why were you so anxious for me to end his life? What is it to you whether he lived or died?”
The stranger’s tone became gentler and with no sarcasm in it at all, “Truth is I love Charlene.” He let it hang in the air for a moment, “I grew to love her during your courtship. She is a fine, strong woman. She is the kind of woman who makes you want to be a better man. A better man than you can ever be, but you still try.” He paused and looked
intently in my eyes. “Lucky you became a virtuous man, or I would have found some way to wrestle control from you. Then, you would’ve had to watch as the woman you love fell into the arms of another.”
It is a great deal to think about. What torture it must have been never to be able to touch the woman you love, only to watch her love another. “Wait a minute,” with anger rising again in my voice, “You watched every time Char and I…”
“No. It would have been the cruelest of tortures.” He turned his head and gazed into the distance. “Out of respect for her, I always turned away.”
Somehow, I knew he told me the truth. It was the way he said respect. “Okay, you have given me your thanks. I think you should go, but first, tell me about the uniform. The creature I have locked in my brain is wearing one similar to it. Although, his has more bright and shiny bits.”
The intruder in my home stood and looked down at himself, “I haven’t worn this uniform in a long time. It is the first uniform I ever wore. Through the centuries, I have worn so many uniforms. I guess I am wearing it to remind me of my curse. No, it is not a curse. It is a punishment.”
Loose Ends And What Knots Page 1