I worked in a used clothing store. This young man, maybe 10 comes in with his mom selling cookie dough for some fundraiser.
He gives me his sales pitch and I listen intently. Halfway through; he looks over his shoulder to his mom for that smile of reassurance, receiving her biggest and brightest offering.
Nervously, he handed me the brochure with the pictures of mouthwatering cookie deliciousness.
He watched eagerly as I went over the cookie selection. I marked off my order and handed it back. It was like watching a balloon deflate. He looked at the paper, looked at me and with great distaste voiced, “oatmeal raisin! That’s an old person cookie. You don’t look that old.” 😂
Kol addressed Brum, “we have remains. We did a complete census of Mecca. There is no one missing from our population.”
A small box was brought through the crowd of soldiers and given to Brum. He accepted the box with a heavy heart. “Thank you.” He turned to see children being loved by their parents. The children whose parents were not among the soldiers were being put on horses to be taken home.
Frego motioned for General Marcus to take the Meccian army back inside the wall. Then stood beside his father. “We sincerely apologize that it took so long to bring this tragedy to an end.” He cut the man loose from the wagon and drug him by the hair of his head, across the sand and threw him at Brum’s feet. “We regret that we were unable to bring back the monster that he created. It was decided that the living were more important than the dead.” Frego presented Brum with a scroll. “This is what the beast looked like.” Brum took the paper but didn’t open it.
“Dead!” The wagon puller shouted. “You killed it!”
The children all started shouting. “No more monster.” Then cheered wildly.
Frego took his father’s elbow.
Brum motioned for one of the Shadow soldiers to come forward. “Take this piece of garbage home. I’m going to go to the river and collect the other children.”
“What other children?” He asked angrily.
“Keep that piece of garbage alive until we get home.”
“Yes, sir!”
Another man joined Brum. Kol remembered him from his trip to the forest when Kessa was hurt. “I would like for Amos to join us.”
“Of course,” Kol answered.
A soldier gave Frego a horse. Frego, Max, Kol, Brum and Amos went to the river. There they found Kessa playing with the two children. Just like Frego said, a boy and a girl.
Kessa was in a position where she could see the party coming. The children couldn’t. “I think someone is here to see you?” She smiled and the children turned around. They didn’t look excited. Quite the opposite. They looked like they could cry at any moment.
Everyone but Max joined her. She kept watching with caution and curiosity the looks Brum was giving Kol. They were questioning. Kessa could tell Brum was older than Kol. There was no way she could tell how much older.
Brum spoke softly to the children, “where are your parents?”
The little boy started sobbing. It was the girl who answered. She looked older than he. “Dead.” Her little answer was quick and direct.
Kol was shocked by the force of her reply.
Brum decided to take a different approach. “Who were your parents?”
Tears streamed down the little girls face but she was able to speak, “Mara and Reke.”
Brum lowered his head. He knew at once.
Kessa remembered the name Mara but she wasn’t sure why.
“Amos and I are here to take you home. Would you like to go home?”
“To what?” The little boy asked through sobs.
Amos cleared his throat. “My wife and I have a son. You can come live with us.”
The little girl looked wide-eyed, “really?”
“Sure,” Amos kicked the sand around with his shoe.
The two of them huddled up behind Kessa. As if using her as a shield while they whispered loudly if they should trust this fellow. She grinned from ear to ear.
“We would like that.” The little girl stuck her head from behind Kessa.
The little girl was on one side of her and the boy on the other. It was the boy who asked, “would you come visit?”
“I’d like that.” The force of the hug almost knocked Kessa to the ground.
“Amos, take the children home. I will be along shortly.” Amos gave Brum a wild look but did what he was told.
As Amos was leaving, Kessa stood. Kol gave her the biggest hug he knew how. “Thank God you are alive.”
She smiled a wide smile, whispering in his ear, “God’s got this.”
“King Kol, I never wanted this to happen. I didn’t want it to go this far. I tried my best to get them to wait.”
Kol smiled, “let me guess you have 12 angry men yelling at you?”
Brum didn’t want to smile but he did. “18.”
“Ouch,” Kol grinned. “If you wouldn’t mind me asking; was that man and your daughter supposed to get married?”
Brum shook his head. “He aggravated my daughter so much that we had to smuggle her out of the forest. She wanted nothing to do with him.”
Kessa voiced, “she’s in Mecca.” It wasn’t a question.
“I fear this is what got Mordechai killed. He is the one that helped me get her out. I knew going to his funeral was a mistake. I had to pay my respects and I had a fleeting hope that I would see her.” He took a deep breath. “All of this mess is to be laid at my door.”
“Do you need to go home with your army?” Frego asked.
“Yes.”
“Go, do what you have to do. When you are ready, we’ll help you find your daughter.” Kessa smiled.
“You and Mr. Holmes must find my daughter. Bring her back to me.”
“Do you believe your daughter is alive?”
“I know she is.” I raised an eyebrow that Mr. Parker noticed. “My wife died when Elizabeth was two giving birth to another daughter that passed as well. Lizzie is all I have left in this world. When Emma died, my wife, I had this empty burning in my chest. The touch of Lizzie’s small hand in mine made that burning go away and from that point on I devoted my life to my daughter. My heart is sad and heavy because I have no idea where she might be but my chest does not burn with emptiness.”
“Are there any other details gentlemen that you would like to cover, even the smallest fragment?”
There was a moment of silence in the room, Mr. Merryweather added, “there is one thing, this may not be of any consequence, my wife got a little black book as a wedding present. All these long years, I am unable to find that book. I assume she took it with her.”
“Why would a book stand out in your memory?” I asked.
Mr. Parker sighed, “her maternal grandmother made it for her. It was the last thing she made before the monster of age took her.”
“If we have any more questions, where may we reach you?”
“I live at the bank. I have made it my life.” Answered Mr. Merryweather.
Mr. Parker reached inside his jacket and produced a card. “I will be here.”
The gentlemen got up to leave and bed me good day.
“Gentlemen I do have one more question, if I may.” I asked. I got a nod from both men. “How was one able to get the physician ordinary to the Queen to make a house call?”
Mr. Parker just smiled. “That is a story for another time, Dr. Watson.” He then stopped in the door. “Where is that beautiful lady that admitted us to this establishment?”
“Mrs. Hudson,” I asked.
“Perhaps.”
She came when I called for her. “Cooper, I know you are incredibly busy. You have Grayson take you to the bank then come back to fetch me. I would like to spend some time with Dr. Watson.”
“Of course sir.” Mr. Merryweather smiled as he left.
“This beautiful young lady can help me to the carriage.” Mr. Parker winked at Mrs. Hudson. She giggled. He ushered us back into the room. He shut the door only after he heard the front door shut followed by the heavy trot of his carriage. “Tell me doctor, you’re Sherlock Holmes; does he have a brother named Mycroft?”
At that moment, Holmes came out of his hiding place and stood by the couch.
“How is your brother,” the old man hissed, “Mycroft?”
“My brother has nothing to do with this matter.”
“Yes he does. He is at the heart of this matter.”
Mr. Parker stared at Holmes for a long time. Only because I knew him so well, I could deduce Holmes was trying with all of his might to control his emotions. Emotions that I had seem more of in the past months than I had seen in years. He walked into his room and in a moment came back with a small satin covered box. Mr. Parker took the box with shaking hands. He wept when he opened it. Over his shoulder I could see that it was a ring; a most handsome ring. The old man cried, “It was you!” He closed the box. I thought for a brief moment that he should throw it in the fire instead he gave it back to Holmes. Mr. Parker shuffled over to the table and sat down.
“Tell me true, where is my daughter?”
Holmes’ voice cracked, “I know not.”
The old man raised his fist in anger. “Lie to an old man will you? Lie to me because you hate me? Lie to me because you want to see me suffer!”
“No,” came Holmes’ one word reply.
“Will you find my daughter?” Tears ran down the old man’s face.
“I will find her. I prefer alive but regardless, I will find her. I do despise you. All this mess of life, I lay at your doorstep. What you called devoting your life to your daughter, I call controlling and a manipulation of her will to yours. You never had her best interest at heart only yours.”
I could see the old man shake. I could only presume it was out of anger. Mrs. Hudson and I stared at each other waiting to see and hear what would happen next. “I wanted her to have the best.” The old man said with despair. “Not the affections of some artist reprobate.”
“The best of what?” Holmes was holding on to the back of the couch now. “The best school for females in America that she never wanted to attend. The best arranged marriage to England’s biggest nincompoop. The best empty house in Wales. You sir, you gave her the best life had to offer indeed. Do you know what happens when you cage a Tiger?” Holmes paused, “you break its spirit.”
The old man shook his fist at Holmes again, “it was you after all?” He raised his fist even higher in the air. “I never knew who it was until now. It was you! I have accused the wrong brother.” Mr. Parker began to speak through tears. “When she was little, I knew why she always wanted to play with the Vernet boys. There were no other children around. It bothered me that the old man filled her head with stories of art. No one lives from art. It is a poor man’s trade. I knew my daughter was strong, iron willed.” Mr. Parker looked at his hands for a moment. “On the day of her wedding she cried so hard that I thought she would break. I have never in my life seen anyone cry so hard. I always thought it was tears of joy. But I see it now,” he sighed. “She paced and she fretted like a caged bird. After seven and twenty years I see it. Oh God, how she cried.”
“Get out. Just leave.” Holmes whispered with his eyes closed.
Mr. Parker took Mrs. Hudson’s arm and obliged. After the two of them had left, Holmes collapsed to his knees. I knew not how to help my friend. It pained me so to see him this way.
Cheekie has been in my life 8 years. I’m still learning the frontier.What freaks him out? What causes him to pout?What gives him joy? I know his favorite toys.Thunderstorms are a no-no. He’s quite plan when he needs to go.Yes, this is him. He thinks he’s 10 feet tall. When; in reality, he’s really small.Curious all around. Barking at all the sounds.He’s such a ham. He knows he’s worth every gram.Good smells from the kitchen? I’ll wait. Just don’t leave me in this state.Ready for play time! All the things are mine. Mine. MINE!
Kol’s dream had been right. It took two years for this journey to happen. Two years of climbing rocks. Blood, sweat and silent tears. And more prayers than either Kessa and Frego had prayed in a life time.
As much as it killed their soul, they had to abandon the horses not half way into the trip. When the horses found their way back to Mecca, Max had to scrape Kol out of his prayer closet. The kingdom had to have its king.
Rajaf kept himself busy working on finding out all he could about the remains.
The threat of war did come. Just as God had shown Kol. Brum was at his gate. The talking was finished. The Shadow People would not wait any longer for Kessa and whatever lies she had to tell. Kol and his army was lined up at the walls of Mecca. Max by his side. Brum and his army had their backs to the open desert.
“Please God please,” Kol whispered as his horse fidgeted under him. Brum motioned for the trumpet call. The first battle cry. Archers pulled their bows as arrows were poised at the ready.
It was faint but Kol thought he heard singing. Brum looked at him in disbelieve. Someone shouted, “Meccian trick.” With each second, the singing got louder. A man’s head could be seen in the distance. Kol’s heart leapt, it was Frego. A wagon came into view being pulled by a man. Frego was walking beside this man.
Luke 15:20 Kol jumped from his horse, stripped off his armor and ran to Frego. When Frego realized what was happening, he ran to meet his father. Two members of the Bejhar that hadn’t gone on the journey, made sure the wagon puller kept on moving.
Frego and Kol were grinning from ear to ear. “I can’t believe you left the front line to come to me.” Frego was truly amazed.
“You are my son, why would I not?”
They stood there embracing as the wagon caught up with them. Frego took a moment to let Kol know Kessa was good.
There was singing. Lot’s of little voices singing. They walked arm in arm beside the wagon.
“He’s your son?” A small voice cut through the singing pulling Kol’s attention to the fact that there were children in the wagon.
“Frego,” he stammered. His son just smiled. After a moment Kol answered the little girl. “Yes, he is my son.”
A little boy asked, “why would you send your son to save a bunch of people you didn’t know?”
The man pulling the wagon shouted, “fool!”
“Pull!” Frego shouted.
A little boy and a little girl had their faces almost pushed through the bars of the wagon. “God told me to send my wife to find you. It was my idea to ask my son to go along as well.”
“Kessa has been telling us stories of your God.”
The wagon stopped with a jolt as the man pulling the wagon fell to his knees. The singing stopped.
“I know this man.” Brum slid off his horse. The archers lowered their bows.
One of the Bejhar opened the wagon and children came spilling out. All of them looked to be under the age of 12. Many of the Shadow warriors ran to their children.
Frego spoke to Brum, “good King Brum, Lady Kessa is down by the river with two of the children; a boy and a girl. They wanted to wait.”
Brum asked, “wait for what?”
“That I don’t know. The children spoke with her and she seemed very sympathetic to what they told her. Luke,” Frego pointed to the Bejhar that opened the wagon, “is to go get them.”
Kol motioned for Luke to join them, “When are you to go get Kessa and the other two children?”
“She didn’t give me a set time.”
The man that was pulling the wagon spoke. Still on his knees. Still bound to the wagon. “You fools.” He spat on the ground. “Those two bastards have no parents. They didn’t want to get hurt,” he pouted as he talked, “by all the love shown to the other children.”
“What happened to their parents?” Brum asked.
He licked his teeth with his tongue. “We had to eat something. And I’m not a very good hunter.” The laugh that escaped from him made Kol’s blood run cold. Was he telling the truth?
Chico will bark at any and everything. My neighbors guineas are no exception. Most people are afraid of guineas because they are mean (very protective). Chico thinks he’s a mastiff so this guineas are no match for him. 😂
At the beginning of the video, he’s standing an his back paws. I think that is super cute. I’m not pulling in the leash either. At the end of the clip when he turns his head; I can imagine him saying, “that thing again.” 😂
A cold wind was whipping down Bakers Street in mid-November. Holmes was pacing across the floor like a man possessed; his hands behind his back, and his chin to his chest. I could only imagine smoke boiling from his ears like an old steamer ship. Not only was I struck by the rapid pace he was maintaining but by the fact that he was not wearing a jacket. Holmes’ appearance was always immaculate. A jacket was always required.
“We have a ten o’clock visitor this morning Watson.”
He never looked up nor broke his stride. I was almost sure he was unaware I had even entered the room had he not spoke. “Do you have a card?”
“Table,” his word was as heated as his steppes.
On the table was a white card that read Mr. Cooper P. Merryweather, President, City and Suburban Bank on the back written in pen was Tuesday, 15th, 10:00 am.
There was a knock at the door, Holmes froze in his tracks. “Take care of this. You know my methods.” He flew into his room leaving the door ajar.
I took a deep breath for courage and opened the door. There were two gentlemen. One I recognized from earlier and my opinion of him had not improved. I still saw a snake when I looked at him. He was accompanied by an older man. “Please come in and have a seat.” I took both their hats as they sat on the couch.
The younger man spoke, “is Mr. Sherlock Holmes not at home?”
“He was called out urgently and asked me to assist you. I am,”
The older man held up his hand, his voice was feeble, “you are Dr. Watson. I have read all about you two. I would much prefer to speak with Mr. Holmes. I mean you no disrespect doctor.”
I could not help myself and took a gamble. “How long have you been in England?”
The old man looked at me for a moment, “explain?”
“It is obvious to me that you could not reside here on a full time basis. Your accent gives you away; America then?”
“I did not come here to give you my history.”
“Then why are you here?” I asked as I took my place in what was usually Holmes’ arm chair.
He old man took a haggard breath, “we are here because over the past twenty-seven years I have had the best and the brightest men in the world in this country searching for my daughter. No one has found her. I am an old man full of my days and I am unsure how much longer my health will last. I would like to find my daughter before I die.”
Mr. Merryweather spoke, “I came here some months back to try to speak with Mr. Holmes’ not being well received. Inspector Hopkins assures me he is a man of great intelligence and skill. That is the only reason that I have returned especially after his rude behavior the last time.”
“I am to assume then that you are Mr. Cooper P. Merryweather?” I held up the business card.
“Yes, and this is my father-in-law Mr. James Parker.” The old man would not or could not muster a smile. His old sad eyes looked as if they might break.
I took out my notebook, “very well then. When did your wife disappear?”
“1876.”
I froze for a moment. Neither man noticed they were too involved in themselves to pay attention to me. As soon as I collected my wits I spoke, “What were the circumstances surrounding your wife’s disappearance?”
“My wife was having a hard time adjusting to the difficult Welsh countryside and was sick much of our short marriage, before she disappeared.”
He stopped talking. I waited a moment to see if he was just catching a breath or remembering a fact. Nothing, he said not another word. “That could not be all sir. There must be more to the story?”
“I purchased them an estate in Wales, Caernarfon. Made sure they were set up in a proper home one worthy of my daughter.”
“Tell me about her.”
“She was so full of life. God I dare not imagine her otherwise.”
“Though we had no children yet, I hired a governess. This seemed to cause her great distress and her strange illness started soon afterwards.” Added Mr. Merryweather.
“I cannot tell you how heartbreaking it is to see your beloved child in the state that she was suffering. I hired England’s best doctors to attend to her; even the physician ordinary to the Queen. No one could figure out the cause of her pain.”
It was obvious to me that Mr. Parker was truly concerned about the welfare of his daughter.
“She completely lost it when her beloved horse died.” Mr. Merryweather spoke. There was something about the way he said horse that caused my blood to run cold.
Poetry & More 