Once there was Darkness
Chapter 41
Part 2
Kessa brought the conversation back around, “how old was the king when his parents dropped him off?”
“Oh,” she continued with a start. “Not his parents. The queen mother. I never met your father. Sometimes I wonder if he knew at all that you spent the better part of your life in the temple. When you, as a family unit attended service; when you did, it was as if you were one happy family. I honestly don’t think he knew.”
“Explain to me how he would not know.”
Kessa spoke, “my husband, how many things have I done under your nose that you have had no idea about?”
He sweetly answered her, “but a child. I would have come unhinged if Abraham or Rajaf would have taken Frego to the temple or the barracks and just dropped him off without telling me. I don’t accept that.” His gaze went back to Sister Sheryl. “How old was I? When all this started?”
“A month old. Maybe two at the most. You spent the better part of the first 5 years of your life with us.”
“Where does Abraham fit into this?”
“Abraham came every day.” Kessa held up her hand for Sister Sheryl to stop talking. Jolla came out with a plate of bread and cheese.
Sister Sheryl was amazed, “she’s growing into such a fine woman.” When Jolla left the garden, Kessa motioned for Sister Sheryl to continue. “Yes, Abraham visited you every day. Some days it was only for an hour or so. But I can’t think of a time he didn’t come to at least check on you.”
“Were you the one that pushed me in a chair and yelled at me for hours because I took Max food at the river?” Kol asked quietly.
Kessa looked at him with a stunned expression.
Sister Sheryl choked on her tea. “Heavens no. I do remember there were several times you wondered off. I followed you at a distance a couple times. The act itself was very kind. I told Priest Solomon and Abraham.”
“Abraham was the one who talked Max into coming to the temple in the first place.”
“Yes, you and he brought Max with you one afternoon.”
“Did I talk much?”
Sister Sheryl thought about that for a moment. “Now that you mentioned it, very little. You would speak when spoken too. Answer direct questions. You were never chatty.”
“I have a memory of playing in this garden when I was 5.”
“Shortly after your 5th birthday, the queen mother came and got you. Telling Priest Solomon that you would be starting your military training in a few months.”
“You’re military training. When you came to us, you walked with a slight limp. We were told you had cut your foot that morning.” Kessa added.
“Who told you?”
“Abraham.”
“What is the longest amount of time I stayed at the temple?”
“Your official training started when you turned 2. The only time you left after that was on your birthday. And you officially left when you turned 5 to start your military training.”
Kol was lost deep in thought. Kessa didn’t disturb him. She motioned for Jolla who delivered Sister Sheryl a large tray of cookies to take back with her. Kessa walked the sister to the garden gate. “Thank you.”
“I really shouldn’t say anything. I have no proof. I always thought Abraham was his dad.”
“We will see you at worship. Enjoy the cookies. I know Jolla enjoyed making them.”
“Thank you.”
Do, do, doodle me this
Thankful Thursday on Sunday
Today I went to Hazard to visit the friend I’ve known the longest. She, her husband and I went to high school together. The drive back was peaceful. Cheekie only whimpered a couple times. 😉 After listening to our sermon, I thought about all the miles I had put on that road. All the money I had fed the toll booths over the years. The one speeding ticket I’ve had (knock on wood) was on that road. The student loans. The useless degree. How would my life have been had I not pursued that course? Many of you have read my testimony; had I not left, would I have ever comeback to Christ?
Wether I lived in Williamsburg, Richmond, or London; when I drove past that ‘Laurel County’ road sign, I had always felt a sense of joy and excitement. I made it out one more time. Freedom!
Today when I drove past that sign, I smiled. Remembering how passing that sign felt. How many times that if I could, I would have high fived that sign as I drove past.
That sign still means I’m closer to home than I was. But now that sign means so much more. I’m closer to people that love me and that I love.
I’m sure I will travel down that road again. And I will drive past that sign. That sign will forever be a reminder of what was. It has a new meaning now: I’m closer to God than I ever was.
The Snake and The Rabbit
The Forest of Dean
We had just begun to settle back into breakfast and our discussion of the narrative, when there was another knock at the door. Again, it was Mrs. Hudson.
“Mr. Holmes, sir there is a gentleman here to see you sir.”
On Mrs. Hudson’s heels was a young looking man. He was maybe in his late 30’s. Smartly dressed and walking with a slight limp. As he brushed past Mrs. Hudson she scolded him.
“I have disrupted your meal. Forgive me. But Mr. Holmes it is an honor and a pleasure to meet you.” He extended his hand in greeting.
Holmes did not accept it. Instead, pointed to the chair opposite me at the table. “My friend and colleague Dr. Watson.”
“Indeed a pleasure.” He shook my hand, and then apologized to Mrs. Hudson.
He handed Holmes an envelope. “This sir is for you.” Holmes had a look of confusion on his face. Our guest took off his hat laying it on the sideboard before joining us at the breakfast table. “It is a most amazing story.” I could not say why Holmes did allow our intruder to stay. He had a jolly good nature about him. Though I knew my friend was tired and not feeling well. Perhaps it was the draw of hearing his tale.
“Pray talk,” Holmes said as he closed his eyes.
“My father owned a large track of land in The Forest of Dean and as such started a mining operation. He was always considered fair and honest by all who knew him. One cold April morning, father and I had gone to the hunt. It was our custom on Saturday; ever since I was but a lad and the rifle bigger than my person. This particular morning was unnaturally cold. As we passed through the woods, that I was all too familiar with, I tripped over what appeared to be a pile of leaves. Almost broke my neck. Examination of the obstruction produced a person. Tattered clothing, blood and scratches covered the skin. It was hard to tell if the creature was dead or alive. Father decided it would be best to take it back to the house. Mother started to clean it off and to our horror she discovered the creature was indeed a woman.”
“Really?” I interjected.
“Yes, you can imagine our horror and surprise. Mother sat, nursed her for a month before she was able to get up or even move about the house. She turned out to be one of the most amazing people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. She was with our household for three years. Gentlemen I promise you, we never heard her utter a sound. She could read and write. Not one word did she speak. Holmes half opened his eyes. “We learned, quite by accident that she could cook.” Our story teller continued.
“What a wonderful quality.” I admitted.
“There are no words to describe the meals that she placed on the table. The Queen herself could not have consumed better food. One day we received word that there were three strange men in the local village. When she heard this, she begged father to put her in the mine. Of course, he was opposed to putting a woman in such a dangerous position. I will never know what moved him to do so but he agreed. She stayed hid out for three months. The men in the mine held her in great respect. She worked harder than most of us.”
“Us?” Holmes asked.
“Oh yes sir, by the time I was one and eight, I knew everything that could be known about the business end of running fathers mine. So I set out to learn about mining itself. The strangers in the village came up to the mine, one older gentleman and two other men. Pinkerton’s they called themselves.”
Sherlock Holmes set up in full attention.
“They interviewed everyone on the property. They were searching for a lady that in a lot of respects fit our ladies description. As it turned out, the older man claimed to be the missing girl’s father. Though I never understood why if you were only concerned about the welfare of your child that you would feel the need to have two detectives around? After a full month, they left. Not long after this account, there was an accident in the mine. No one was severely hurt save me. Gentlemen, she saved my life. Now, it occurs to me why no one spoke up. Had she not been there, I would have surely died. That is why I walk with a limp.” He smiled. “Father wanted to do something special for her. After all, she saved his son’s life. She would hear not of it. For after all, we had, she wrote, saved her life. Finally father suggested leaving her something in his will. To this she agreed and named you Mr. Sherlock Holmes as her benefactor. My father died short of two months back. It has taken me this long to collect my wits about me.”
This was truly an amazing story. I glanced over at Holmes who seemed to be staring at his untouched breakfast. “Sir,” I asked, “what was your father’s name?”
“Oh how forgetful of me.” Our young guest seemed to get embarrassed. “Morse Pennington. I, James M. Pennington am the only child.”
Holmes finally spoke. His voice was almost a whisper, “tell us what you remember most about this woman?”
“Well as I stated earlier sirs, she worked just as hard if not harder than the men; which won her great respect. She never spoke a word. She was a most attractive person after all the bruises and scrapes healed. I may have forgotten to note, mother cut her hair when she was first discovered. Clean,” Mr. Pennington made the motion as one having their head shaved with his index finger over his head. “When it grew back, it was the grandest shade of red I ever saw. No colour as yet have I witnessed to describe it. She never let it grow past her shoulders once it started growing again.”
Holmes groaned, “Did she possess any jewelry, eye glasses, anything?”
“A necklace sir but I never saw any of it save the chain. I know nothing of jewelry therefore I know not how to describe such.”
Once there was Darkness
Chapter 41
Part 1
Kessa and Kol were sitting in the garden enjoying a relaxing evening when a sister appeared. Her brown frock was as peaceful as she was against the beauty of the garden and the calm of the evening.
“Priest Solomon sent me to speak with you.”
Kol rose from his seat, “join us.”
She was confused. This wasn’t the action of a tyrant. She was rarely wrong about people. He genuinely seemed kind. Priest Solomon had filled her head with the images of a power wielding tyrant who trampled people under foot with wild threats and abuse of power. With great hesitation, she took the seat he offered. As he motioned, another chair was brought out and placed beside the queen.
Kessa motioned and a sweet young lady brought out another service for tea and placed it before the sister. She thought she recognized this young lady. “Tea,” the queen asked, as she filled the cup. When the sister raised the cup to her mouth, the smell of the liquid tickled her nose. She smiled as she concealed a giggle. “My dad made the tea. God has given him many talents.”
“Delicious. Thank you.”
“How may we help you?” Kol asked.
There were those violet eyes. He was the only person she had ever met with violet eyes. And in her life, she had met a lot of people. The queen mother had light blue eyes, almost gray. But what the sister remembered most about the queen mothers eyes, they were cold and empty. The king’s eyes were kind, questioning but the overwhelming sense of authority lay behind them. Kessa had piercing blue eyes. The sister couldn’t look at them for very long. It was as if the queen was looking through her. Into her very soul at the most intimate parts of her being. She discovered she did better looking at the bridge of the queen’s nose.
“I am Sister Sheryl. Priest Solomon sent me to speak with you because unlike him, I took no oath. His oath didn’t encompass the width of the church. I prayed that you would liken his words to the ramblings of a senile old man.” She smiled. “There is nothing senile about Priest Solomon. Looks like God has allowed his words to take root in your heart. While he has chosen not to break his promise. I made no such promise.” Sister Sheryl took a sip of her tea. “Priest Solomon and I grew up in the church. Perhaps that is the thread that binds us. Priest Solomon knows all of my secrets and I know all of his. I think we are as close as we will ever be without being married.” She looked up. “Perhaps this is a conversation we should have in private?”
Kol had a finger on the corner of his mouth as he listened. “This is private.” He lowered his hand.
“Yes. Maybe Abraham should be here instead of me.”
Kessa looked at Kol, “we have spoken with Abraham.”
When she saw the love between these two, she knew in her heart that God wanted her to talk. Maybe the words she had to say would bring peace to the king’s heart. Though with Kessa by his side, it seemed to her that he needed answers more than peace. Kessa made another motion. The young lady appeared with a tray.
“What are these?” Sister Sheryl asked.
Kessa smiled and the young lady answered with great excitement, “cookies.”
“Thank you Jolla.” Kessa was still smiling.
“Jolla,” Sister Sheryl gasped. “I thought I recognized you.”
Jolla smiled, bowed and left.
“She looks so happy.”
“She is,” the king answered. “Her cooking skills are amazing. Though she seems to prefer baking.”
Sister Sheryl took a cookie from the plate, “what do you remember of your childhood, sire?”
“Kessa, Abraham, and some very close friends are helping me with major events.”
“Priest Solomon takes care of the church and I take care of the children. Though I haven’t given birth to any of them, I feel like they are mine. I want them to grow up healthy and happy. To become strong members of our community. Not knowing the love of a parent can change a child. Sometimes for the worst. I pray that with God as our guide, we can show each child the love they deserve. My queen, as you know, not all children fit in with temple life. Some of them choose to join our military.” She stopped taking a bite of the cookie she had chosen. “This is divine.” She marveled as she laid it back on the saucer. “Max, for example, has grown into a fine man and a good leader. From what I’m told.”
Kessa added, “Max is indeed a Godly man.”
Sister Sheryl smiled. “That makes my heart glad.” As she looked at the king, her expression was sad. “I remember you. When you were placed in my arms, all I could think about was how tiny you were. Out of all the children I’ve ever held, you are the one I thought I would break. So tiny.” She trailed off. “It isn’t uncommon for parents with high status lives to bring their children to us. You were different. Our doors are open to all people, as you know. When those parents brought us their children, it was for a week here. A month there. I honestly thought when your wife died.” She looked at Kessa, “my apologies. That you would have brought your son to us. I kept expecting you but you never showed up.”
“It never occurred to me to throw my son away.”
Sister Sheryl bristled at this, “oh the children aren’t thrown away.”
“What do you call it?”
“Redirection. Direct direction to God.”
“Forgive me, but I don’t need the temple to give me a direct direction to God. Jesus did that. I understand the importants and the function the church serves in our kingdom. But don’t ever think you are my direct link to my heavenly father. The church is only part of the journey. I feel your function is one of support and guidance.”
Sister Sheryl didn’t know how to respond to this. Even if she should.
The Snake and The Rabbit
The Little Book
The little book was on the table between us. I produced my notebook to make some notes. “Who do you think this woman is writing to?”
Holmes was silent for a moment, which was his custom most of the time. “At present, us. We are the ones reading the narrative.”
“There are times in the writing Holmes, that it seems she is writing to you.” Holmes said nothing. “We can deduce from her wording that she is an American?” I asked.
“Agreed.”
“By her own admission this was an arranged marriage.”
“From the tone, I suspect there was something amiss between the unneeded governess and THE MAN.” Holmes added.
“What was Shire?” I asked.
Holmes raised an eyebrow, “a horse.”
“Really?”
“Shire’s are draught horses. They are bred to work; bred to be massive horses. Some have been known to be 19 hands high and weight more than 820 kg’s. It will take more data before I can formulate an opinion as to how THE MAN killed him, poison is always an option. As I suspect he did.”
“But there is nothing in the book to assume he was poisoned.”
“Noted.”
“The same person that wrote the letter wrote in the journal?”
“Yes.”
“The writing in the letter is neater than the book.”
“Different pens. Different setting.”
There was a knock at the door which surprised us both and quiet alarmed me. It was Mrs. Hudson.
“Mr. Holmes sir, your brother is here to see you.” She stood out of the way and Mycroft Holmes stepped inside.
“My boy, stay where you are. I cannot stay long.” He walked over to the fire. “I popped around to apologize.” He stood with his hands clasped behind his back facing Sherlock Holmes. “As you know, this is out of my usual routine. I felt it was important to tell you that though I feel strongly about what I said,” he pointed a fat finger at Holmes. “I am right after all.” He put his hand back behind his back. “I may have gotten a little out of line in my presentation.”
Holmes scoffed. For along moment there was silence between us. Finally he said, “accepted and appreciated.”
“Come around to the Diogenes Club when you can.” He moved to leave, “both of you.”
“As long as that subject never comes up again,” Holmes remarked.
“I cannot promise, though I will try.” Mycroft said smiling as he walked out the door.
Waste not. Want not; drying rack
This poem is being written in stages to highlight the things I do toward frugal living.
Paid $15.00 some time back.
It’s paid for itself triple and more.
An electric dryer, I’m yet to score.
Save on electricity aka juice. 😉
Use that money someplace else to spruce.
Waste not. Want not.
Growing up; my daily life was filled with the saying, “waste not, want not.”
When you’re young, what clue do you have in lives dot?
As we grow; we learn, “money doesn’t grow on trees.”
I save the salt from chocolate squeeze.
To my stew you are added.
Flavor has been padded.
Aw sheet!
Blasted hole. This is not a treat.
I’m gonna fix you. I guarantee.
From my needle you need to flee.
More time will be added to your life. Around you I shall mend.
So more dream filled nights, you can tend.
Coffee. Nectar of God. You help me through another day.
Upright and functional, you help me stay.
What about your grounds?
A use for you, I have found.
Nutrients to the soil you will add.
Helping my veggies grow big and strong. Which will make me very glad.
Leftovers are my jam.
From me, they do not scram.
I freeze you to eat you for lunch.
Which helps my overall finances a bunch.
Someday I’d like to retire.
I’m sick of this mire.
Toothpaste: squeeze, squeeze you. But never tease me.
I will cut you open before I let you be.
Give me all your power.
Your contents, I will devour.
Inside I find more paste.
Enough for at lease 5 more brushings. No waste.
Mustard, ketchup, butter, pepper, or salt.
I don’t eat out a lot. Put that spending to a halt.
When I do, those condiment packets will be saved.
Eaten later or added to a recipe, usefulness will be made.
Some restaurants now days are making us pay for those.
Concerning our budgets, we must be on our toes.
I’m doing dishes anyway. No electric dishwasher near.
I pack my lunch almost every day. These sandwich bags here;
I haven’t bought new ones in years.
I wash them out until cracks appear.
Organized in old tissue boxes. Painted and labeled neat.
Baby steps toward my financial goals, meet.
Sincerely, I’m addicted to chap stick.
My lips, I do not lick.
I have it everywhere; on my desk, in my pocket, in the car, on the coffee table, by the night stand.
Use a tube to the nub. Throw it away? No way man.
Use a cosmetic spatula to get every last soothing ounce.
Apply to dry lips, give them bounce.
I got the yummy delicious benefit of the meat.
To my taste buds, it did greet.
Save the left over grease for my dog.
Add it to his kibble. Then share it on my blog.
Cheekie gets more than just grease from the table.
Added treats to his kibble, whenever I’m able.
Being single allows me some latitude.
Some of the things I do, your partner might give you attitude.
With the exception of my kitchen, my trash cans are small.
Even it has been retro fitted so; grocery store bags, I reuse them all.
I even have a cute storage sleeve.
I only buy trash bags if I need them for a specific project. Price too high, peeved.
Homemade things are the best?
I put that theory to the test.
I made all my people birthday signs.
They didn’t seem to mind.
Happy Birthday!
That’s what the signs say.
From old t-shirts as rags.
To making a drop cloth out of a trash bag.
If it can be used til it screams,
I’m gonna make it dream.
Recycle, reduce, reuse –
I’m going to make it produce.
Dust is everywhere. It grows out of the ceiling and the floors.
Think you got it all, WRONG! Here’s some more.
Where does it all come from?
Hum –
I put cheese cloth or chiffon on the back of my fans.
Filter some of that dust out, oh man.
Been to the grocery lately.
Cause you to have heart failure, matey.
My bestie and I eat dinner together almost every night.
Try to ward off some of that cost, plight.
Plus, I get to see my bestie more.
Added value to dinner, score!
There’s an app for that.
I use Fetch Rewards to squeeze out every penny, flat.
Collecting is slow.
But that’s okay, watch my points grow.
I cash points in for gift cards.
Get all the value out of my receipts before I discard.
What do you see in this canister?
There is no parameter.
Cookies? Oh yes.
They are the best.
What else is inside?
Cupcake papers it does hid.
The Richest Man in Babylon
I knew what I wanted to do with the money. In my dream, I felt like I couldn’t tell my fam-ends what I wanted to do. They would make fun of me. In part of my dream, I was in a snow storm. Then a Chinese restaurant. All the while, this very specific amount of money is present. $19,600. I don’t remember getting to eat in my dream, sadly.
What book was I listening to? The Richest Man in Babylon. This is a delightful book full of useful information. Maybe not so simple to implement but easy to understand and learn from. The author ‘George S. Clason’ has used interesting stories about everyday events (from ancient Babylon) to teach the reader/listener how to be wise with your money.
Once there was Darkness
The breakdown, Part 2
“I’m so tired of fighting. That is what I accidentally told Max in the bell tower. Let it be finished.”
Kol’s voice cracked, “you would leave me?”
“It would break my heart..” She couldn’t finish her thought.
“I have forgotten so much. You know this. I remember the moment I fell in love with you. Do you know what that moment was?”
“You told me you would marry me and gave me a grass ring.”
“And you kept it.”
She smile, “nosy.” She teased.
“You and Max; you were on one side of the bed and Max on the other. General Marcus came in and said that someone was being kicked out. You started crying. Marcus asked if you disagreed? You said no, that he made the right decision. It made you sad because you thought he was our friend. And you prayed that God would light a path for him to follow. That was you. You showed compassion for someone who had done a wrong. You prayed for him. That was amazing. That took strength. That is my Kessa. The Kessa I fell in love with. All of the other things, the army, the fighting, drawing, cooking, making medallions,” he smiled. “that’s what you do. That’s not who you are.”
“How did you get so wise?”
“I have amazing teachers.” He smiled. “Your hip doesn’t hurt all the time or your shoulder?”
“No. It takes spells. It’s then that I feel less of a person.”
“I love you. If you will let me, we can do this together. What burdens your heart burdens mine.”
They were still kneeling in the sand. “I know in my heart that you and God are on my side. Satan takes every chance he gets to play with my emotions and sadly, I let him.”
“If you will let me, I will help you figure this out.”
“Will it be enough to say that I will try?”
“Yes. Together.”
Poetry & More 