Through the Darkest of Nights: Testament IX

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Every few days over the next several months I will be posting installments of a novel about life, death, war and politics in America since 9/11.  Through the Darkest of Nights is a story of hope, reflection, determination, and redemption.  It is a testament to the progressive values we all believe in, have always defended, and always will defend no matter how long this darkness lasts.          

All installments are available for reading here on my page, and also here on Docudharma’s Fiction Page, where refuge from politicians, blogging overload, and one BushCo outrage after another can always be found.

   

    Shannon and Rachael walked together through her garden in the fading twilight.  The warm evenings of summer were over and the cool night air foretold the coming of autumn.  Rachael’s garden had always been a source of comfort to her, and she needed comfort tonight, for she knew she would never be able to watch another sunset from here.  Tending her garden, watching life blossom, breathing the fragrance of the roses and lilac reminded her that all living things need nurturing.  If life is not nurtured, it withers into mere existence.

    Rachael knew that all too well, she had merely existed before she had become a Watcher, there had been no meaning in her life, it had been withering into nothingness until the Watchers had found her, and nurtured her, and taught her the importance of nurturing others.  Her eyes and heart had been opened, and would never be closed again to the world around her.  So throughout her life she had seen what others did not want to see, had felt what others did not want to feel, and had carried burdens others did not want to carry.  

    Rachael had taught her daughter the foundational importance of idealism, and took comfort in the knowledge that Shannon would always listen to her heart.   Being with her tonight, savoring her unexpected return, seeing her wearing the pendant . . .              

    “Shannon?  Where is the pendant?”

    “I gave it to Jericho, mother.”

    “You gave it to Jericho . . . ”  Rachael stared at Shannon.  “Have you told him why you gave it to him?”

    “Not yet . . . I will though, I promise.”

    “When?”  

    “When I see him again.”

    “Oh little one . . .  are you in love with him?”

    “I love Jericho, mother, but I love him as a companion for the journey ahead, as someone we can trust, not as the man I will give myself to someday.”

    “I hear your words, but I see much deeper feelings for him in your eyes.”  Rachael’s smile was bittersweet. “Seeing such love for Jericho in your eyes warms my heart, it brings back so many memories of the love your father and I had for each other.  But it also troubles me, your task will be difficult enough as it is . . . I have to tell you, being in love is going to make it much harder for you to make some of the decisions that are going to have to be made.”

    “Mother, I am not in love with Jericho.”

    “Your father would have liked him . . .”  Rachael’s smile faded, her self-control began to crumble and tears streamed down her face.  “I hope Jericho knows what he’s getting into . . . your father didn’t.  I always meant to tell him about us, to explain everything . . . but I just couldn’t. ”

    Shannon embraced her, and held her close, and slowly, with great effort, Rachael composed herself.  “I’m sorry. I’m an old woman and the regrets I’ve had to live with have been hard to bear.  I loved your father, I loved him so much, but I gave him that pendant anyway.  I thought he was strong enough . . .”

    “Mother, you gave it to him because you loved him.  And he was strong enough.”

    “What they did to him . . . ”

    “Let us not speak of that.  He faced it bravely, as bravely as anyone could.”

    “They are animals . . . animals in suits and ties, animals with human eyes, but there is nothing human behind those eyes.  Nothing.  McCarthy was a beast, and now they are all beasts, every one of them.  They are staining the birthplace of humanity, they are staining it in infamy written in blood.  They stain everything they touch, they destroy everyone who will not kneel at their feet, and when the killing begins, they stand up and salute it.”

    “Why do they hunger so for killing?”

    “They do not hunger for killing, little one, they hunger for power.  Killing is just an expenditure on a balance sheet to them, it is of little consequence in their calculations.  They dismiss it as the price others must pay for submitting to  power instead of seeking it.  They believe in the survival of the fittest, but it is not survival of the fittest, it is survival of the cruelest, the most ruthless, the most heartless.”

    Rachael summoned her deepest inner strength, and drew upon it, and managed to maintain her composure. “These politicians, these CEO’s, these peddlers of dogma sicken me, they profane what is sacred, and sanctify what is profane.  They posture as defenders of America, they call themselves Christians, but they profane America and Christianity with their deceit and corruption.  These men of dogma in the Muslim world sicken me, they posture as defenders of Islam, but they profane it, they cast away the lives of the innocent, and call it Holy War.”

    Rachael reached for Shannon’s hand, she needed to feel the warmth and strength her daughter had in such abundance.  “The first years of this millennium will be terrible, but beyond them another chance for peace awaits humanity.  A last chance.”

    The sun had set and night had fallen.  The stars shone down on them, sentinels of eternity beyond counting, silent messengers bearing tidings of the boundless realm of wonder that awaited humanity if it turned away from bloodshed.  Rachael and Shannon stood together under the firmament of night, and Rachael spoke the words of wisdom all Watchers cherished.  “The past is within you, the present is within you, the future is within you.”

    “And they abide in you, mother.”

    “What has passed, what it is passing, and what is to come abide in each of us, but very few understand this.  Jericho senses it, but he will need guidance.”  

    “And I will offer it.  But I will need guidance too, mother, yet from whom can I seek guidance, once you are no longer with me?”  

    “Look into your heart, Shannon, and you will find the guidance you seek.  You will know what to do, for your heart will show you the way.”

    “My heart does not want you to die, mother.”    

    “Oh little one, when I Ieave this world, I will find the peace I have always sought.   Physical life ends, but love endures, and it will sustain you until we walk together once again, in a garden where roses never fade, where it is always spring and night never falls.  Until then, upon you has fallen the task I thought was meant for me.  To be a Seeker was my destiny, I believed that for all these years, but I have raised and nurtured a Seeker, and that is enough for me.”    

    “I promised myself I wouldn’t cry tonight . . .”

    “Then keep that promise.  Enough tears have been shed, so be the Seeker this world has waited for, be the one who awakens the Seeker in all women, for it is the women of this world who must end the killing.  Men never will, so women must lead humanity to peace.  Hear me now, for it has been written . . .  

    “That moment in your life is drawing ever nearer, little one.  When that moment comes, you will know.  When it comes, open that door to the future, open that door for everyone, open that door to peace.”