As the car meandered along the winding path that snaked through the compound, I become aware of the grand scale of the buildings that we approached. The aged stone that surrounded exposed wooden support beams gave the castle-like appearances a regal appeal. The one hundred year old trees that riddled the landscape reached upward to the sky with their mighty oak branches burdened with leaves. The picture that the landscape painted could not have been duplicated on canvas nor could the feeling of insignificance that I felt in regard to the grandness of the dwelling. Bells could be heard high atop a steeple ringing loudly as their echoes leapt from the belfry and into the divine courtyard filled will flowers of every imagination. The sky seemed to color itself in a particular shade of blue that could not have been created on the finest pallet. Perhaps the atmosphere among these grounds reflected an air more pure and sacred that seemed to favor the heavens more so than elsewhere.
“I need some explanations, Elder Lewis, of course I will.”
Our car entered the courtyard at a walking pace before coming to stop in a large cobblestone circle. The aroma from the flowers surrounded the stone drive and permeated the windows of the car sweetening the air while in my mind I longed to be carried far back to Grandma’s yard where the butterflies flew. The immense entrance consisted of a centuries old wooden door, arched to a point in its center and adorned with blackened steel hinges along with the great door knocker that hung in majesty above the handles.
My fascination was broken as the silence of the moment was interrupted by Reverend Malcolm closing his car door as he exited the vehicle. The reality of our purpose became prevalent while I pushed my appreciation for the skill in architecture in this striking setting deep into the back of my thoughts. I opened my car door and was overwhelmed by the smell of the gardens surrounding me evoking a longing for time to appreciate the fine beauty of the area. I closed my door and with a final breath inhaled the last drop of newness before approaching the entry door alongside of Reverend Malcolm. The preacher spoke not a word but took on an air of professionalism contrary to the youth in the car during our lengthy drive. Grasping the large knocker he pulled at it with a strained tug and released, sending it crashing into the hardened steel plate behind it, causing a dronish thud. He raised his arm and repeated the action with the same effect until the door leisurely began to open to reveal a small man in his late sixties dressed in a brown robe, tied with a single rope at his waist. His somber appearance seemed peaceful and unaffected by our presence as he soberly pulled the weighted door open to allow our entrance. He reflected no emotion through his stony expression, but peered at Reverend Malcolm as if awaiting his words.
“Could you please inform Elder Lewis that Reverend Mal…Reverend White is here to see him? It is quite urgent.”
Our greeter turned unhurriedly without muttering a word and shuffled slowly down the immense foyer toward an elaborate internal archway and turned the corner leaving our sight. The entranceway consisted of large tiles of reddened stone adorning the floor and meeting the walls of planked cherry wood, darkened by age and free of blemishes. Centuries old paintings adorned the walls in frames of such great size that it must have taken six men to suspend them. The paintings were of old men in cloth gowns each with a cap that resembled a child’s beanie. They must have been men of great knowledge and power and most obviously in high regard to the men within these walls. The ceiling towered over us high above like a cathedral of ornate moldings and murals of notable events in Christian history between them. Again I felt a feeling of insignificance by my mere presence within the room.
The sound of shuffling returned to our ears as our greeter returned through the archway and moved towards us still stone faced and sober. As he reached us he grasped Reverend Malcolm’s hand within his own boney clutches and pulled lightly guiding him in the direction that he had turned his body. Reverend Malcolm motioned for me to follow as we were lead through the archway and was quickly seated outside of yet another large wooden door. Our seats were reminiscent of church pews and were as uncomfortable as I had remembered from my days of accompanying my mother to Sunday Mass. The greeter left us without acknowledgement and disappeared again down the length of the hallway and around the corner. Reverend Malcolm and I sat quietly as anticipation filled the air and a sense of fluttering began in my nervous stomach. I leaned to the Preacher and spoke in a low voice.
“Father White? Are you telling me that my first impression of the good preacher is that he is a liar?”
“I am sorry about that, Mr. Abel, but as I told you earlier, Elder Lewis and I were separated by the Board of Elders because we did not conform to the official teachings. Reverend White was a friend of Elder Lewis when he was a young Marine during Operation Summit in 1951. It seems that Reverend White saved Elder Lewis by sacrificing his own life. Elder Lewis gave me the alias and since he is an Elder, had it placed in the preferred visitor’s database for occasional visits. It has served me well and afforded me the opportunity to visit Elder Lewis.”
The large door opened with a click and moved slowly to reveal a small grey haired man in a red robe. He was frail and weak as his thinning hair fell down over his lowered head, which balanced a small white cover, similar to the beanie-topped men pictured in the hallway paintings. The robe that engulfed him seemed much too large and heavy as the old man appeared burdened by the mass hanging from his sagging shoulder. He moved in very small steps and I feared that he might fall, as I stood ready to catch him with every step that he placed. He raised his head as though exempt of energy, straining his wrinkled neck and halting his steps. His eye brows where white as cotton and reached above his eyelids as if helping them to stay open while his blue eyes fought to make out the persons in his presence. His face was a collection of wrinkles placed by age and stress that seemed also too heavy to allow a smile from his stern glare.
“Elder Lewis; it’s me…Reverend Malcolm. Do you remember?”
Elder Lewis spoke in short whispers and was difficult to understand. He seemed to lose his breath before his sentence was completed and I wondered if he would remember the young priest at all.
“Yes, Reverend Malcolm, I do remember my young student. Please come in and sit down. You can put your chair most anywhere that you wish. Come in, come in.”
Reverend Malcolm walked slowly beside Elder Lewis with his elbow raised to help the old priest walk without falling. Three chairs sat atop an ornate woven rug in the middle of the large room that seemed to echo with every whisper. I placed myself in a chair while waiting for Reverend Malcolm to seat the old man. Reverend Malcolm took the seat next to me as we sat across from the chair of Elder Lewis. The old man face was drawn into a strained smile as a quickly fashioned cartoon as he peered down his raised nose.
“What brings you to see an old man Reverend Malcolm? I was told that you would not be visiting these grounds again for quite some time.”
“I have brought someone to meet you. It is of dire attention, I fear, and I thought that you must hear it for yourself. Elder Lewis this is Mr. Abel.”
The old man seemed to be tiring quickly and reached to the side of his chair without looking and brought a gnarled and aged cane to rest upright and between his knees. His eyes closed as he spoke and the smile disintegrated into a lined frown.
“Mr. Abel I am an old man and have seen a great many things. I am a witness to great history that has passed before me. I have seen strong men rise and fall to be replaced by fools that proclaim themselves leaders. I have won and lost and seen deception that I wish not to remember. I am old and I am tired, young man. What is it that you wish to tell me? What is it, Mr. Abel? Enlighten an old man.”
“Elder Lewis, I have brought Mr. Abel here for your guidance. It seems that he….”
“Reverend Malcolm; I assume that Mr. Abel possesses all of the necessary attributes that would make him quite capable of speaking for himself. With all due respect to you, young student, I would like to speak with Mr. Abel in private. Would you object?”
The preacher’s shoulders sunk as if defeated. His confidence turned inwardly into a reverent resentment toward the old man. His face became flush as he shuffled backward toward the doorway with his voice nearly childlike.
“I…no…I mean…certainly not…not at all. I will wait in the hall if you should need me.”
He lowered his chin and, making no waste of time, excused himself from our presence and followed the tiled floor into the hallway, closing the wooden door behind him with little sound. I sat before the elder gentleman searching for the words to begin. So many years have stacked end upon end within my memory that it seemed at this one moment I wanted to see them all topple into a large pile of anger and frustration so that this man before me could sift through them to fill the empty spaces. It is the empty spaces of a man’s life in which the devil waits as a patient void. I felt that Elder Lewis might be the one person who could possibly explain my life and to what I was destined. The old man sat silently inspecting my face as his slender fingers reached above his clasped hands and joined together at a point while they met rested upon his prominent chin.
“Mr. Abel I am searching my mind to find reason that might bring you to me. At this moment I am discovering nothing. Reverend Malcolm is a fine instrument and was one of my most promising students. I feel a certain kindred to him that I do not possess otherwise, as I have no children of my own. I am supposing that in turn I am that of a certain father figure to him. The life within these walls is a satisfying paradigm excepting that for some there is a longing for family. As one comes to understand their purpose within the family of Elders, one will realize, barring a shallowness of reason, that this is purely a problem of pain. Are you familiar with the writing of C. S. Lewis, Mr. Abel?
“I can’t say that I am, Elder. I mostly just…”
“C. S. Lewis writes that in order to be Christian one must deal with the problem of pain. Non-Christians know only the pain of a human kind; being purely physical in aspect. They tend to justify the existence of Christ our Savior as a product of fiction giving freedom of their mind to the probability that evil cannot exist which in turn tells them that goodness cannot. It is riding the fence as it has been stated in the slang nomenclature. The pain that Christians experience is a far greater pain but much more rewarding. As one accepts a wholeness with God, your pain becomes greater but on a much more noble scale. Are you a Christian sir?”
“Elder Lewis, I have a prominent relationship with the Lord that is much more personal…”
“As it is I am to assume that you do not attend church regularly or even occasionally excluding Easter and possibly Christmas. This is the fence that so many choose to stand upon as they attempt to better their feeling of absence by stating a personal relationship that no one else could possibly understand. Of course it is human to draw in to one’s personal self as a final defense against true reason as in that realm you are judge of your actions and the word of other holds no barter there. Am I correct Mr. Abel?”
“I did not travel this far to have some old man attempt to read my pedigree.”
“Alas, Mr. Abel, why did you travel to my door, sir?”
“I’m not sure exactly. I am caught in the middle of something that I do not understand and Reverend Malcolm tells me that you can help me. As a young man, my father used me to help him contain something evil within a…a type of holding cell. He said that while we were fighting this thing, I got something called eklektos. He told that to an old man that he referred to as Balsavoy while they were building a prison for the thing out of rock and mortar. He kept calling my father a Chaser and now refers to me as the same thing. Well, I shouldn’t say now since he is dead. Elder, I have seen things that no one should be allowed to see and now I have this vision or something like it that lets me see if people are marked for some supposed battle between Heaven and Hell. I feel as though I am losing my mind; like I am just a character in a strange book.”
“Mr. Abel, during your exploits did your Father teach you of a higher power of man? Perhaps he mentioned a controlling force beyond understanding of a more numinous interaction?”
“My Father told me of Tonder but he was limited in his knowledge. He said that Tonder was a form of God that he used to present himself to people so that he could be better received; not so overwhelming, I suppose. Everything else about Tonder seems to be implied; kind of like you just do what he says and don’t question it since he hasn’t steered us wrong yet.”
“You mentioned, Mr. Abel, that you are blessed with a gift of sight? I have heard of such a gift but have not in my long life been directly involved with any persons of such talent. This is very interesting indeed, Mr. Abel. Can you tell me…am I marked?”
Peering deeply into the aged eyes of the old man, I found a desperation; a needful longing.
“Elder Lewis, I assure you that you are not…”
“Mr. Abel, are you quite prepared to accept what you have been given?”
“I am not sure what I have been given…”
“For reasons much higher than you or I, you have been chosen as a hub for pureness in a very mortal way. Please do not think for a single instant that you are invincible Mr. Abel, as I assure you, sir, you are very much mortal. Use your gifts wisely, as you possess great power in your knowledge. Your discretion in use of this knowledge may prove to be the deterring of demise: our demise.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I will try to fill you with my knowledge in a much abbreviated manner, Mr. Abel. Our time is drawing very short. If you would please indulge an old man, I would like to stroll within the flowered gardens. They are quite extraordinary, really. As we make our way there I will do my best to give you the details that you require. Won’t you join me?”
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