so this is the Prologue and Chapter 1 of my latest venture into the worlds of fancy, 'Change'. i'm not sure if i'll stick with that name, but for now i guess it'll suffice.
i should probably say, i do NOT hold any veiws it might seem like i express through this story, though it isn't obvious just how controversial people could make this when i'm done from what i'm posting now. PLEASE, don't bring religion into this--if you think i'm trying to deface the Catholic Church(or christianity, or any religion) you're wrong. i intend certain things to be shocking, and perhaps make people take a different perspective on certain real-life things, but NOTHING is literal. it's FICTION. try to take it figuratively.
okay, sorry, just had to make sure i was absolutely clear on that. here it is.
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Prologue
Father Hughes sank back into his bed, weary after the day's events.
The boy will be fine, he thought. It was a miracle he survived.
Despite his tiredness, sleep came reluctantly. What if?, he thought repeatedly. What if he's...one of them?
Finally, after several hours of tossing about on his hard bed, he fell asleep.
“You.” The voice was deep and resonating, coming from all places and none.
Father Hughes was confused. “What...what's going on?” His voice seemed feeble in comparison.
“I am here to give you a mission.”
“Who are you?” he asked, although he had a feeling he already knew.
“I am who I am.”
There was no longer any doubt; this Voice he was talking to was his Master, his Lord.
“I have a mission for you,” the Voice repeated patiently. “Will you accept?”
The priest stuttered, “Y—yes! Of c—course!”
“Good. You must help the boy. Take him to the Tower.”
His resolve wavered. “But...Lord....”
“You admit I am your Lord?”
“Yes, but...”
“And you accepted your mission?”
Father Hughes marveled at the calm willpower of the Voice. “Yes.”
“Take him to the Tower.”
He gathered his courage to ask the Voice a question. “Why? I thought...I thought the tower was a place of our enemies?”
“It is," the Voice said firmly. "Have no delusions about that. I will tell you the purpose of this soon enough.”
“Yes. I understand.”
“You understand all you need to. You know where your loyalties lie. Do not fail me.”
“I won't.”
The Voice left and Father Hughes awoke to a bright room lit by a fine spring morning that was completely oblivious to the terrible things he knew he was about to set in motion.
Chap 1
Jeriah woke up scared and groggy. For a moment he thought he was back in his burning house, flames roaring and his flesh slowly being eaten by the inferno.
“Jeriah!” Father Hughes' old voice intruded on the frightening scene. “Jeriah!”
He sat bolt upright, eyes wide.
The priest said with a smile, “If you slept any more soundly, I'd never be able to wake you.”
“Sorry, Father.”
The priest's lighthearted mood dissolved at the sound of the boy's voice as though he had just remembered some grave business. “Get up and get packed. We're leaving in two hours,” he stated grimly.
Jeriah gaped. “What! Where are we going?”
“Away. Get packed.”
He left before the boy could respond.
Jeriah was actually quite glad to be leaving; many of the villagers were suspicious of him after he had escaped his burning house unscathed.
He looked down at himself beneath the covers. The flesh had been perfectly intact, but his clothes had been completely singed off. His entire family had been killed. How had he survived?
He threw the sheets off of him and got up, stretching his sore body. The small bed Father Hughes had let him sleep on was very firm and uncomfortable.
As he dressed with the clothes the priest had given him, he thought, Pack! Pack what? I have nothing left.
This was not completely true. He had a secret collection of his most prized possessions hidden deep in the forest neighboring the village.
But the value of those objects was sentimental. What use were they for their trip? He would go through them later, but at that moment he had something far more important to do.
So after he finished dressing in Father Hughes' old clothes, he left the priest's humble home to meet with Samantha.
Jeriah and Samantha had been having secret affairs for months. Secret, because her very wealthy family would never allow the poor farm boy Jeriah to be with her.
He went to their usual meeting place on the edge of the forest, across the village from her house. They had picked this place because it was hidden from most of the village, with the exception of Samantha's bedroom window, which had the best view of the village in the house.
When he arrived there, he sat on the ground an examined the warm spring morning.
The trees were budding and flowering, the hues of bright green and pink and white covering the top of the forest. The unused field was the domain of countless half-opened blossoming flowers and bees. From the trees came the sound of cicadas, the rise and fall of their buzzing almost symphonic. The golden sun was bright, barely off the horizon, casting sharp edges of light and dark throughout the landscape.
He did not have to wait long for Samantha. After about five minutes, he saw her appear at the top of the rise that separated their spot from the village's view.
She was tall, almost as tall as Jeriah, and her light, wavy hair flowed behind her as she descended towards him. Her skirt hardly hampered her approach.
When she reached him, they hugged without conversing a single word.
Then they ran holding hands to a spot that was completely hidden from any vantage point. It was a small area of short, soft grass surrounded by forest.
They took off their shoes, feeling the green bed of earth beneath their bare feet. Jeriah laid down and Sam slid over him.
Her mourning appeared greater than Jeriah's. “I'm sorry about your family, Jeriah.” Her voice was high and sweet. She was the best singer in the village, and everyone knew it. She also had ambitions to be an actress.
Jeriah took a soothing tone. “Don't be. You had nothing to do with it.”
She seemed to tense for a moment, but Jeriah thought nothing of it.
He looked down at her. Her head rested on his chest and he caught the faint scent of strawberries from her hair. “I'm leaving.”
She looked up at him. “What!”
“Father Hughes is taking me somewhere. I have a feeling it's very far away.”
“Will I ever see you again?” she asked hopefully.
He shrugged. “I don't know. I hope so.”
Oddly, she appeared to be in a slightly better mood. “One last kiss?”
Jeriah managed a weak grin and proceeded to kiss her for as many minutes as he dared waste.
And a few he didn't.
