#speakingof

Quote/s of the Day – 26 October

Speaking of: The Four Last Things – Part One

“A priest goes to Heaven or a priest goes to Hell with a thousand people behind.”

St John Vianney (1786-1859)

“The issue is now clear. It is between light and darkness and every one must choose his side.”

G K Chesterton (1874-1936) (Chesterton’s last words)

“The doors of Hell are locked from the inside!”

C S Lewis (1898-1963)

“Each and everyone of us, at the end of the journey of life, will come, face to face with either one or the other of two faces… And one of them, either, the merciful face of Christ or the miserable face of Satan, will say, “Mine, mine.”

May we be Christ’s!”

Ven Fulton Sheen (1895-1979)

“We’ve all got a terminal illness. It’s called life.”

Servant of God Fr Benedict Groeschel (1933-2014)

“The national anthem of Hell is “I Did It My Way”.”

Peter Kreeft

“Many who plan to seek God at the eleventh hour die at 10:30.”

Bumper Sticker

Die Leute reden von Wahlfamilie, Communities, Safespaces und ihrem neuen Morgen. In der Vergangenheit sieht es dafür um so hässlicher aus, in den aufgezwungen Familien, den realen Verhältnissen und dem immer wieder aktualisierten Gestern, welches das Morgen zu gut kennt. Davon möchte auch zu Recht niemand etwas wissen, sonst würden uns die positiven Konstrukte schlagartig in den Händen zerfließen. Die grauen Wolken am Himmel aber sagen uns: Ein unallgemeiner Safespace, der das Vergessene vergisst, wird sich früher oder später in sein Gegenteil verkehren - in allzu handgreiflichem Zwang bestehend aus Wiederholungen, Fehlern und Fremdheiten.

Another day, another teaser for DARKENED SOUL: JONATHAN’S TALE--ON SALE NOW AT AMAZON.COM at https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00Q4N5214/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i0

And now...here's Chapter 2 from DARKENED SOUL: JONATHAN'S TALE...

Time: 1853

“Everything all right, Master Jonathan?”

I looked up from my chair by the fireplace. I had not even heard Samuel come in. He stood by the door with his hands behind his back, standing at attention like a good servant. However, I saw the concern in his big brown eyes.

“Yes, Samuel,” I said.

“How long have I served your family on this here plantation, Master Jonathan?”

A sigh escaped my lips. “Since before I was born, Samuel.”

“Now what—”

“You know what?” I snapped. “For once, could you act like I am the master and you are the servant? Am I asking too much of you?!”

The room filled with silence. Samuel continued to stand at attention. I saw it in his eyes thought. I saw the hurt. I shot to my feet.

“Samuel—” I started.

“What’s her name, Master Jonathan?” Samuel asked.

I frowned. “Her name?”

“The name of the girl who has bewitched you with her glaze,” Samuel replied, a sense of play about him. “Surely it ain’t the Sharplock girl who dropped you off...”

“Bonnie,” I said. “Uh...no. It...is not.” I felt my face starting to warm from embarrassment. “I don’t have a name.”

“Ahhh!” Samuel said as if he had gotten the missing clue to a mystery.

“Perhaps you should fetch me some water,” I said.

“A splendid idea, Master Jonathan,” Samuel said, turning toward the door. “You are looking a little—”

A figure stormed into my bedroom. They knocked Samuel out of the way. As the figure paused, I could only stare at poor Samuel. He landed to the floor. A shadow fell over him, making me look up at my visitor.

I had always been told that I took after my mother in looks. Shoulder length dark hair. Soulful brown eyes. Rosy cheeks...sometimes. My older brother Simon Araby however took after our father. Curly black gypsy hair. Dark eyes that betrayed little emotion. A full face with a serious glare. Right now, his glare was on Samuel.

“Watch where you are going, slave,” Simon said hurriedly.

“What is the meaning of this?” I demanded. “Who are you to barge into my bedroom?”

“I am the lord of the estate, Brother,” Simon replied. “This room...this land and every slave on it...belong to me.”

“I believe Father would beg to differ,” I shot back.

Simon smirked. “For now.”

“Unless Father takes ill,” I said, “you have a long wait.” I turned to Samuel. “Samuel, are you—”

“Do not show it compassion,” Simon snapped.

“I do as I wish.”

His eyes narrowed on me. “And if I was to tell Father?”

I glared. “You can certainly try. Which of us is most trustworthy? I am sure Father would say I.”

Silence filled the room again. Simon’s face converged into a snarl. It however did not scare me. My eyes set on him like a storybook knight about to slay the dragon.

“It is a real shame you are not the eldest then,” Simon said.

My blood started to boil. Before words slipped out of my mouth that I could regret, Samuel blocked my line of vision to my brother. I am sure I gave him a glare. He still managed a smile.

“Perhaps refreshments for the masters?” Samuel asked.

“I do not—” I started.

“Cabernet,” Simon said. “Perhaps it will lessen the tension in here.”

“I highly doubt that.”

For a brief moment, Samuel’s eyes went to the heavens. A silent prayer escaped his lips. Then his head turned toward the door. My head...as well as Simon’s...did the same.

Brett Araby stepped into my bedroom. My little brother had also taken after Mother in looks. Unlike me, Brett let his dark hair grow quite long, tying it into a ponytail. His forehead was creased into lines. He paused in the door, his hands behind his back and his brown eyes cautious.

“Samuel,” Brett said, “could you fetch us some brandy?”

“Yes, Master Brett,” Samuel said.

He moved like a bullet in a pistol out of the door. Brett watched him for a moment. Then he turned back to Simon and I.

“Now...what chaos have I walked into with you two?” Brett demanded.

“Nothing that concerns you, Brett,” Simon replied.

“If it causes discord in the house, it very well does concern me,” Brett shot back, his voice one of icy calm.

“No discord in this room, little brother,” I said.

His head looked one way, eyes on Simon. Then his head turned, his eyes on me. It was like being studied by a harsh tutor.

“All right,” Brett said, crossing his arms over his chest. “If this is so true of you. If there is truly no discord...,” He gave both of us a mischievous smile, “...you can shake hands on it.”

“Bah!” Simon huffed.

Before either Brett or I could say anything, Simon stormed out of the bedroom. I looked at Brett. Brett looked at me. We exploded in laughter.

“I swear,” Brett said, “he truly has Father’s temper.”

“He truly does,” I agreed. “Then again, do I not have it as well?”

“Brandy?”

I looked past Brett. Samuel was back. He held a silver tray in his hands. On it were three glasses full of delicious brown ecstasy. Brett took two glasses and handed one to me.

“That will be all, Samuel,” Brett said.

Samuel nodded and walked away. I frowned as Brett drank his brandy. He stopped and stared back.

“Now, now, Jonathan,” Brett said, his brown eyes icy. “I know the tone is not to your liking—”

“Samuel...all of our servants...are human beings.”

“No,” Brett replied. “What they are is property. Bought and paid for. To believe otherwise endangers our very livelihood.” He drank more. “Really...if you brought your nose out of your books, I would think you would realize that.”

“Why, thank you, Brett!” I exclaimed, every word dipped in sarcasm. “Wherever would I be without you?”

Brett grinned. “Let us hope you never have to find out. Speaking of which...Bonnie Sharplock has invited us over to a little gathering.” He smirked. “Ready to put your book down?”

***

I have never felt so bored.

I would give Bonnie’s family one good quality. They truly knew their wine selection. I took another drink, its sweetness lighting my tongue with exquisite pleasure.

“All I am saying is that it is not about being inhuman. It is our livelihood. And who would be out in the fields? Surely not us.”

I took another drink. We had been around Bonnie’s large rectangular dinner table for two hours. While I had enjoyed the feast her family had laid out for all of us here, I had not liked Brett getting into an on-again/off-again debate with Percy Orton. Then again, I had never liked Percy Orton. I found him to be too full of himself. Even now, he sat across from Brett, waving his arms about like some drunken layabout in public...something he was known to do.

“Why not you?” Percy challenged, tossing his short curly blond hair. “It is your land.”

“They are treated well,” Brett fired back.

“On your land,” Percy corrected. “Can you speak for the rest of the Southern states? I think not.”

“Gentlemen!”

I looked past Brett. Bonnie had sat at the end of the table, the very picture of a hostess in her short sleeved blue dress. Now she stood up, her hands holding her up. She looked positively irritated at the two of them.

“I did not invited you here to get into a long drawn-out debate,” Bonnie declared. “How about we leave that up to our President?”

“As if that is a wise thing,” Brett muttered beside me.

“Why would it not be?” Percy asked.

“How about we talk,” said a light-haired brunette who sat across from me, “our new arrival?” She gave Bonnie a frown. “Speaking of which...I thought she was going to be in attendance tonight? This is her welcoming dinner.”

I looked at Bonnie. “New arrival?”

Bonnie glared at the brunette. “She was invited. I had the invitation sent this morning.” She looked at me, smiling. “Yes, new arrival, Jonathan. It is...was...our mystery person in the carriage the other day. My mother found out what the name of the family is. The Ashcourts.”

“Is that all she found out?” A long-haired blond woman sitting next to Brett asked. She gave Bonnie a smirk. “She is slipping.”

Bonnie shot the woman a look. “For your information, Cecily, the Ashcourts moved into the old Cory estate.”

Whispers shot up from the other dinner guests. Everyone in town knew of the old Cory estate. Everyone knew of the series of events that befell that family. Everyone knew of the murders.

Suddenly, pain erupted from my forehead. I grabbed it quickly. My eyes squeezed shut, trying to will the stabbing pain away. If I did not will it away soon, I...

ThOsE mUrDeRs. Oh, DeAr.

WhO iS hE tO...

JoNaThAn ApPeArS iLl.

“Jonathan?” Bonnie uttered. “Jonathan, are you...”

“I am well,” I said quickly, standing up. “I just need...air.”

I hurried toward the hallway. When Brett and I had first showed up, Bonnie had given us a little tour. That tour had included a view of the balcony that overlooked the long driveway of the front of the estate. I took to it now, my hands gripping the stone railing as if at any moment I would fall into a dark bottomless pit.

Curse these headaches. They had been with me as far back as I could remember. It was like someone was slowly nailing spikes into my head...then slowly pulling them right back out. It was extremely unpleasant.

What made it worse was what followed. The voices. They filled my head. They were not my own. They were other people’s voices. Other people’s voices with their hidden thoughts. The more I attempted to drown them out, the worse the pain became. I had no control over when it occurred. That was a disadvantage I could not afford.

“Well...”

I spun around. My feet stumbled into each other. My left hand grabbed the railing again just in time. Otherwise, I would have fallen to the concrete floor.

For a moment, I saw nothing but the windowed door I had walked through, the long windows on each side of it, the curtains hanging over it all, and the shadows.

Suddenly, the shadows swung to life, revealing a slender figure. As the figure came into the light, I saw it was a woman. It...was her.

Her hands were behind her back, her arms gloved. She had on a long black dress that had buttons that lined it for her neck all the way down to the bottom of the dress. Her jet-black hair was straightened, a few strands of it caught in the light breeze blowing. She bought her head up to look at me, her beautiful eyes looking inhuman in this light.

“...alone at last,” she said.

“I am afraid...you have me at a disadvantage,” I said.

“Really?” she said, tilting her head. “Because I do not think so.”

“Replies the fiend coming out of the shadows,” I said.

“Now, Jonny, do not be a spoilsport.”

My surprise must have shown on my face. She stepped forward. A trace of a smile appeared on her smooth face. I was rapidly feeling out of my depth.

“Yes,” she continued, “I have heard all about the great Arabys.” She stopped walking. “Especially you.”

“It must have been an extremely brief tale,” I commented.

She walked toward me again. Her right hand shot out and landed on my chest. I felt the heat through my shirt. I wondered if she heard my heartbeat increase to her touch...so slow...yet firm.

“Oh, Jonny,” she said. “There are quite a few stories in you yet.” She leaned closer. “I...can see it in your big brown eyes.”

I felt a stirring within me. I also felt excitement in my trousers. She was close, her scent of jasmine. She stared in my eyes without flinching, her dark eyes holding a playful glee. Then her body was against mine, the heat between us increasing like a fire consuming wood. Her lips were inches from mine. And I...felt myself leaning closer.

“Jonathan, are you—”

I jerked away from her. Bonnie looked at us. I saw shock appear on her face. I definitely surmised surprise. For a moment, I saw something else. If I did not know better, I would have said it was jealousy. I chalked that up to a trick of the light.

“I was coming to be sure you were all right,” Bonnie said. A slight frown appeared on her face. “It would appear so.”

The dark-haired woman looked at me still. Her hand was still in the air when my chest had been. She smiled at me.

“Yes,” she said, “it would appear.”

“Pardon me,” Bonnie said, “but who are you?”

For a moment, the beautiful woman’s face darkened. She dropped her hand. She spun around to face Bonnie, her face all pleasantries again.

“Surely, you know never invite someone to your house without knowing who they are. It is simply proper etiquette,” she said, a slight hint of ice in her tone. Then she smiled. “Ursula Ashcourt.”

“Bonnie Sharplock,” Bonnie said. “I am sure you know that already.”

“Why, of course,” she...Ursula replied. “I try to learn all about my new surroundings when my family moves.”

“It sounds like you travel a lot,” Bonnie said.

“Such is the luxurious life,” Ursula said. “Perhaps we can discuss it over tea some time.”

I watched her. The way she moved with confidence. The way she looked which was like royalty. I had to get to know her. I had to see her again. I had to get closer to her, feel that heat against me again.

HmMmM, nEw PlAyEr...NiIiIiIiCe...

“Ah!”

It shot through me like a lightning bolt touched to ground. Someone...was watching us. And...I heard them.

“Jonathan!” Bonnie cried, running to my side. “What—”

I reached out and touched her shoulder. It relaxed her. For a moment, we looked at each other, our eyes meeting in a short moment of understanding. I managed to smile which relaxed Bonnie more.

“I am all right, Bonnie,” I said in a whisper.

“Then,” Ursula said, cutting into the moment, “how about Miss Sharplock show me this lovely feast she has crafted in my honor?”

“Yes...of course,” Bonnie said.

She stared at me a moment more. Then she walked away from me. She walked past Ursula. I stared at her, saddened that she did not look back at me.

“It was nice meeting you, Jonny,” Ursula said. “I look forward to conversing with you again. Soon.”

Ursula turned and walked away. I watched her go as well.

My mind could not help, but wonder what I had allowed myself to get mixed up in. Two women? I wondered if this was what Simon experienced from time to time. Goodness knew he talked about his conquests enough...

I looked over the railing. For a moment, I saw something move among the trees. It was a little too fast for a deer.

My mind fell to thinking about the last voice I heard in my head. It sounded unfamiliar to me. Usually the voices sounded as if they were playing a game of chess.

Was it a good omen...or a bad one?