There were times, yes, when I held the belief that help would not arrive soon enough to ease the onslaught of sorrow, inevitably to come. I stayed...frozen on that dock, the dock just beyond the pavement of my childhood homes' touch, waiting with great anticipation for heavens will to yield its answer onto me.
I couldn't have been forsaken.
Not at this juncture.
When the initial dreams swept over fear consumed .
I wanted to run, not out of negligence mind you; but out of sense of loyalty, loyalty to the life led thus far.
Not desiring change I remained steadfast in the belief that the calling had been meant for another, surely not one such as I.
Who was I after all to take on the responsibility of heavens will?
Yet here I stood, waiting for further instruction...
Where was the one that they'd send?
No one here but a lone fisherman, a bum by immediate appearance.
He turned, speaking to me in such a manner that it was obvious that he was not of this place...
From there to here I listened with intent; the mysteries of the Dire unfolding before me
I had heard whispers of the lycan many years prior as a young boy
many a sleepless night spent restless by the howling some where off in the distance...
He spoke of her...
She who would come to render insight and help to further the cause of locating and eradicating the general population of the disease of the Elder
I truly didn't wish to open my mind to the possibility
of becoming their warrior...
I realised love; seized it
And that had taken a lifetime to accomplish
I was to risk it all to raise heavy sword in hand
wield the years of self to slay what heaven itself could no longer control
A birthright handed down generation to generation
now resting in my hands
simply
but with great resolution
I nodded in acceptance
what else could I do?
I silently prayed (as I took my leave from the heavenly apparition) that she'd find it in her heart to comprehend what I had been forged to do
she'd know faith in me
as I held faith in her love...
Faith.
It's all we have sometimes...
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He wasn't my white horse.
There were days, days like today where I fell to his feet in tears of frustration, not knowing what I could possibly utter
to make this alright
for him
never me
because he isn't listening...
My life was over quite some time ago.
I live/survive purely on borrowed time... this I've known for many years.
I thought to apologize before I left yet again, but to what end?
He'd eventually find me and claim to have changed, forgiven, he'd steal more of the time running through the sift of now
The perfect thing to say
just when I needed to hear it
I suppose
The past is gone, or so I'd respond as my soul ached for a righteous path to cross over to, to redeem all of the waiting
knowing the outcome would surely rob me of a present
destroy all that I held onto
currently
He often questioned my faith
faithful
not faithful
somewhere between obsession and the stir of a drink
I had to explain things I honestly didn't/couldn't understand
I ran for the coast
dreamt about it once or twice
saw the blade glimmer etched in a battle that seemed to be of an esoteric nature
this opened volumes of past pages read in the novel playing in my mind nightly
one by one
the clues would lead me to the blood stained dock
if only I could find the place just now, I'd have a momentary block of trepidation
I raced like a bullet across the beach sand, hated its feel, loved the waters welcome
I took pause to weep
I'm faithful I thought
painful to be under the gun
shot to this point
but I'd go
he needed my help, that was the directive
I always followed where ever my dreams led
yeah
the fisherman told me that this was the place
I didn't want to be the fugitive here, restless and looking for aim
but there didn't seem to be a choice
this was heavens will
made decisive yesterday
or at least half way
it fell upon my shoulders suddenly, with a thud.
Heavens brightness blinded my eyes
I blinked
regretfully
he caused me to raise my voice in exclamation, never having the time to explain
my head turned
I suppose that's why I never heard; listened
The howling startled the senses
perhaps it was as always, canine running after me... an occurrence that felt oddly enough familiar to this setting.
I laughed as I recalled the legend of the lycan.
Born to be a werewolf surely, I thought.
Smiled as I intuitively knew that they were better kept to mind...
I wondered as I finally stumbled upon the dock, would he finally see my faith to its natural fruition?
Here, before me, was the script...
I read it
faithfully...
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excerpt from book 5, in the Pater Nostras series...
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From my hand to yours,
Sawyer
Saint Andrews
