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In Jesus’ Name

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One of the first songs I heard from famous Christian song artist Katy Nichole is “In Jesus’ Name (God of Possible.)” When I was younger, I assumed it was referring to physical healing, and it does in a sense. But as I got older, I learned it referred to so much more. . .

The song is a prayer for all who are struggling, whether it be physical, mental, or emotional struggles. it reminds us that God is still working and will heal if it be His will; we just have to trust in Him and let Him carry all our burdens instead of trying to lug them around ourselves.

I pray for all who are going through hard times. . . .May the Lord change your situation if He wills it. . .

Poems

Heed the Call

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If you say you walk

In the Lord’s light

But leave behind

The Devil’s night

 

If you say you know

That God loves you

And that He’s there

Yes, He hears you

 

But you push Him away

Because of pain

You see no blue skies

Only heavy rain

 

I say, giving up

Is not an option

Because He’s been there

Through thick and thin

 

Through highs and lows

Yes, He’s seen you

He knows just what

You’re going through

 

Because He is God

And He knows all

So walk in faith

And heed His call.

Books

Book 4: Every Life is Beautiful

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Chapter Six: You Promised

 

The rain ceased the day after Tilry’s funeral. The sun’s golden rays beamed brilliantly, drying the sodden ground and snapped plants. Cloudy numbly plodded to school, feeling as though she had been punched in the skull. Her classes passed in a blur, and her friends laughed and chatted gaily at recess. They begged Cloudy to come play with them, but she declined. Nothing frisky or genial felt right to her now that Tilry was gone. She wished it would rain again, but no such thing happened the rest of the week.

 

* * * * *

 

Days went by, and still Cloudy remained sulky and gloomy. Nothing could lift her spirits. Fun-loving Sniper, who normally could make her laugh by doing something silly, tried to cheer her up, but even her prankster brother could do nothing about her blue mood. Springtime saw the sun melt away behind the clouds of Cloudy’s life and prayed desperately to God that her daughter would once again be joyful. But day after day passed with the same results―Cloudy was sullen and didn’t want to play. She began to do poorly in her classes, and her grades dropped drastically. She barely ate or slept. Springtime continued to cry out, but with no audible reply.

Gradually, March fifteenth arrived. It was now less than a week away from Cloudy’s birthday, but the child no longer felt excited about it. The day that was supposed to be so full of festivity and mirth now swayed overhead her mind like a dark cloud that wouldn’t go away, shrouding her mind in haunting memories of shadow. Even Liloy seemed far away in her thoughts. So did Meta Knight. Often at night whenever he visited, Cloudy would see him by the fence alone, crying. At times like those, she instinctively knew what to say or do, but now she withdrew from him altogether. She knew he was still suffering from the funeral, same as she was, and that likely neither could make the other feel better about the current stances of their minds and souls.

Liloy seemed to skirt her father’s presence as well. Father and daughter were never together much anymore these days. If Liloy was in the house, Meta Knight was outside. They never held hands anymore or hugged. There seemed to be an invisible force pulling them apart, dragging them farther and farther away from each other, unraveling the already-fragile threads that once held their family bond close together. Cloudy found that painful truth incredibly sad.

Even her siblings seemed to notice the silent breach of bonding between the soldier and woman.

“Hey, what’s up with those two?” Sniper asked on the third day when Meta Knight sat on the porch and Liloy on the grass with the children. “Why are they behaving so awkwardly? They’re always apart now. Why is that? They’ve never done that before.”

“I wish I knew, but then again, it’s none of my business, is it?” Cloudy muttered. She trudged away to the opposite side of the house and sat down, her back to the rosebushes. Sniper stared after her, then shrugged and went back to his carefree playing.

 

* * * * *

 

Then the unexpected happened.

Four days before Cloudy’s birthday, Meta Knight asked Cloudy if she wanted to accompany him to Liloy’s house, which lay deep in Whispy Woods. Cloudy agreed, and off she walked with him into the forest. She didn’t know what they were doing but she knew from Meta Knight’s dark-green (meaning anxious) eyes that it was something important. She felt a little flutter of unease and discomfort, but she pressed on through the sharp, winding trails and dense undergrowth. The vines twitched in the occasional breezes that swept through the area, and the boughs of the oaks creaked and groaned.

At last, they came to a modest, well-kept red-brick cabin that stood along Miracilius Trail, which lay two miles parallel to Magnolia Brook. Cloudy smiled as she spotted the well-tended rosebushes in front of the railed porch. Roses were the favorite flower of both she and Liloy; magnolias were second. Cloudy’s mind then traveled back to last year’s Thanksgiving, when Scazzarda had showed a rose to the picnickers and explained that the thorns represented the crown of thorns, or the suffering Christ endured on the cross; the rose petals represented Jesus’ blood, or the washing away of our sins; and the green of the stem and leaves represented the renewal of our bodies and spirits in Heaven, or eternal life. Cloudy had never forgotten that beautiful demonstration of what the design of the rose meant to her and what she hoped would one day mean to all.

She was brought out of her reverie by the sound of scuffling and scraping inside the house. The front door opened and out came Liloy, dragging a large gray box onto the porch, a morose look on her pallid countenance. She raised her head and saw her father and his friend standing in the yard, and a peaked smile replaced her sorrowful look. “Hello!” she shouted.

For the first time in days, Cloudy grinned, her eyes brightening with the old spark of her fiery spirit. There was the cheerful, convivial Liloy they had always known and loved. “Hi!” she returned, darting up the porch stairs and almost tripping on the broken top step. Liloy looked alarmed, but Cloudy regained her balance and hopped over to the box, curiously peeking inside at a load of knickknacks and other odds and ends.

“Hello, Father,” Liloy said happily, smiling at him as he mounted the steps and walked up beside Cloudy.

“Greetings, my child,” he answered gravely. He glanced down at the box. “What are you doing, my dear?”

Liloy’s face suddenly became heartsick once more and she looked down for a moment, feeling uncertain about the recent thoughts she had been having. Her eyes rose to the huge oak tree overshadowing her porch, the tree that had protected her cabin from lightning strikes and fierce hurricanes and floods, from blowing snow and wind for so many years. This wasn’t just any cabin, she knew; it was her childhood home, the place where she had grown up after her mother had married Meta Knight. However, the marriage didn’t last. She remembered all too well the terrible day her mother had thrown her wedding rings at Meta Knight, screamed horrid words at him, and stormed out of the cabin. And she never came back.

Never. The word gyrated in her head. Never.

“Liloy?” Cloudy asked, concerned. “Are you okay? You look like you flew off to a different universe for a moment.”

“Oh. . .” Liloy smiled, trying to mask the tumultuous chaos of her mind. “Oh, no, Cloudy. I was just thinking, was all.” She looked back at the front door, her eyes darkening, and then at Meta Knight. “Father, would you mind coming inside a moment? We, er, need to talk. . .in private, preferably.”

One look at her face and Cloudy knew the news was going to be bad. Since she had already had enough bad news in the last couple of weeks, she decided she didn’t want to listen to what Liloy had to say anyway. “I’ll just wait out here,” the little girl offered. “You and your dad just go on in and talk about whatever needs talking about, okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Okay.” Liloy gestured for Meta Knight to walk inside and shut the door behind them. She led the way into the living room, which, to his bewilderment, was now completely barren of furniture. He watched as Liloy planted herself in the middle of the floor, crossed her arms, and shot him that resolved stare which determined she was about to announce something either truly exciting or completely sad.

In this case, it was neither.

“Father, I need to tell you something,”Liloy answered. “I’ve decided I’m going to sell this house and move.”

That hit Meta Knight hard, but he tried not to show it. “And go where?” he gently asked.

“To Mount Moonstem.” Liloy sighed a little. “I understand they have some cabins there you can buy or rent.”

“That’s why you are moving all the boxes out,” Meta Knight observed, his eyes growing wide in disbelief. “But Liloy, why would you just do this without consulting anyone first? Don’t you love it here anymore?”

Liloy sighed again. “It’s my life. I can do as I wish, Father. And I wish to move.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Actually, the truth is, Father, when Tilry died, I knew I could no longer be happy without him here. To me, it’s just empty, desolate, barren, as if he were never here at all. It feels too much like the days after Dad died of alcohol complications. After he passed, I wanted to run away. The only reason I stayed then was because you married Mom. When she disappeared, I stayed on because of Tilry. Now he’s gone too.” She was crying now. “I’ll never truly be happy here again, Father. The best thing I can do now is leave.”

Meta Knight sighed and closed his eyes. He knew all too well the feeling of having a father who never truly cared. . . “I will indeed miss you living so close to me, darling. But if this is what you choose, then so be it.” He opened his eyes and managed a slight smile. “At least you will have your baby to keep you company.”

Liloy’s face grew cold and her eyes became stony. Meta Knight had never seen that look on her face before. “Actually,” she began, and then halted, seemingly hesitant to reveal the words right on the tip of her tongue. Meta Knight felt a strange tenseness take ahold of him.

“Actually. . .what?” he prompted.

Liloy looked to the ceiling and back at her father, looking him straight in the eye. “I am going to tell you the complete and honest truth,” she said softly yet sternly. “I told my high school friend, Lilith, that I felt incapable of taking care of my child with Tilry gone and asked her help. She suggested I ‘, as she put it.”

Meta Knight gasped in horror. “Liloy! What are you talking about? Are you saying she suggested you to end your pregnancy?! How could she?! That-That is not an adequate solution! . . .I mean. . .I. . .” His voice faltered, and the words died away in his throat.

“I understand how you feel, Father, and I even argued with her on that issue. But she. . .she seems to. . .” She broke off as she recalled that day and their argument. . .

 

* * * * *

“Why can’t I just put him up for adoption. . .?”

““Maybe you could. . .but what if no one adopts him? . . . . Or what if you do decide to raise him and he doesn’t have a mattress to sleep on. . .? . . . . What if he has to live on the street, barely eating, barely surviving. . .? . . . . And all because his mother chose the harder route of suffering instead of doing the kinder thing that would allow him to live in peace?”

 

* * * * *

 

Liloy shook her head as she finished relating Lilith’s words to her dismayed father. “Lilith was right, Father. I can’t do this. I can’t raise my child by myself. Nor can I put him up for adoption; the awful things she mentioned could happen. I don’t want my child to suffer in any way. Therefore, there’s only one choice I can possibly make.” She took a deep breath.

Meta Knight read her thoughts even before she spoke them. “No,” he whispered, shaking his head. “No. You cannot do such a thing!”

“It’s my life,” she coldly remarked.

“It’s not in your authority to take the life of your own child!” Meta Knight shouted at her, fury in his voice. “How could you even think of doing such a thing! This is not how I raised you!”

“I have no other choice! You know I don’t!” Liloy yelled back, her voice rising shrilly.

“You do have a choice!” Meta Knight returned. “You can choose to take the hard road and raise your child yourself! I have seen single parents guide their children themselves and I admire them highly for that! I did the same for you and Gregory when your mother left me, and I never gave up, even when I truly wanted to!”

“I’m not you!” Liloy cried out, the weight of her words slamming full force on him. “I’m not a soldier! I’m not someone who struggles for peace and answers to their questions! I wasn’t abused like you were!” She paused for breath, her heavy breaths filling the stillness of the room. “I’m not you,” she repeated in a whisper, her voice trembling.

“You cannot do this,” the soldier spoke once again, his voice angry. “You are making a big mistake!”

“Then it’ll be my mistake,” Liloy coldly responded. “But I am only doing the best for my baby.”

“No, you are not!” Meta Knight cried. “You will only hurt him of you follow through with such a thing! If you accomplish this awful deed, you will forever regret it!”

“Maybe, but at least I will have peace knowing I only tried to do what was best for him,” Liloy said calmly. She didn’t seem to care about her mortifying plan.

Meta Knight was aghast. Has she completely lost her mind?! he thought, alarmed. He was panicked. She can’t do this! Not at any cost! This is ridiculous!

“Liloy,” came a quiet, rigid voice from the direction of the doorway. With a gasp, both family members turned and saw Cloudy standing there, her normally dazzling eyes dark as night. Who knew who long she had been standing there, listening to their conversation?

“Oh, dear. . .” Meta Knight nervously swished his cape behind him.

Liloy crossed her arm and put her foot down hard. “What?” she shot back, her voice rough.

“Why would you want to get rid of your baby because you feel you cannot take are of him?” Cloudy asked. “God specifically tells us in the Bible that the murder of babies is wrong. And you yourself know you can raise your child yourself without Tilry’s help. After all, you have God. But Lilith’s evil words have blinded you to the duty God gave you as a mother―to raise, love, protect, and nurture your child.”

“I have made my choice,” Liloy said in a tone of finality. “Nobody can change my mind now.” With those forbidding words, she turned and walked toward the front door.

Cloudy was beginning to get desperate. There was nothing else she could now but try to snap Liloy back to reality. “You can’t!” she shrieked, and leaped forward to grab Liloy’s cape. Her teeth closed around the pink fabric and she jerked her head backward, trying to prevent Liloy from walking out the door.

“Let go of my cape!” Liloy ordered.

Cloudy’s response was to lean her head even farther back and tug harder. She refused to let Liloy take the life of anyone, especially an innocent baby who had done no harm and deserved a chance to live. “You can’t do this to your baby!” she wailed in dismay. “You cannot! I’m telling you, you cannot!”

“Let go of me this instant!” Liloy yelled sharply, raising her hand and knocking her fist over the child’s head. Cloudy, stunned, fell backward, the rose-colored cloth slipping from her mouth. Meta Knight was shocked, but Liloy merely stormed out of the room, preparing to leave. But just as she reached the front door, she heard Cloudy murmur:

“You promised. . .You promised Tilry you would take care. . .of your baby. . .”

Liloy forze at those words, and her mind flashed back to the hospital room.  She had been standing beside the bed, waiting for Tilry’s last words to her. A weary hand in hers; it felt ice-cold to the touch. A raspy voice speaking his final words to her:

“Take care. . .of our baby. Promise. . .you will.”

Liloy stood there in a state of semi-shock, dazed, as she suddenly recalled her very last words to Tilry:

“I promise.”

“‘I promise?'” she repeated softly over and over again. Then she violently shook her head, as one waking from a dream. “I. . .did promise. . .didn’t I? But I can’t. . .I can’t do this. There’s no way on earth I can raise my baby. It’s too much for me. It’s too. . .much. . .” With an outburst of anger, she kicked open the front door, sending a shower of dust and wood splinters flying onto the porch. “No!” she muttered to herself, “I can’t do it! I can’t take care of my baby! Not now, when I’m alone! I have no other choice btu to do what I am able!” She stomped off down the steps, slamming the door, leaving behind a bruised, sore puppy and a furious, but helpless, father who stood in the middle of the living room, wondering where he had gone wrong.

Books

Book 4: Every Life is Beautiful

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Chapter Five: Concealed in Darkness

 

The moment the rain started, Reverend Helman ordered everyone out of the flood-prone field, warning all that where they stood was a low-lying area and was susceptible to flash floods. The heavy-hearted mourners scattered, obeying the command. Springtime and her family raced up a steep hill that overlooked Tilry’s grave, and there they halted, breathless.

From her vantage point, Springtime’s eyes roved over the field. Nothing much seemed to have changed about the landscape. The open grave lay in the center of the waving sea of grasses; the trees bordering the field angrily whipped their branches in deadly arcs in the wild gusts of wind; the flowers stood firm and proud despite the rain’s relentless assualt on their delicate stems and fragile leaves. But the atmosphere of the bright, sunny days in the past was no longer the same. It was darker, intangibly heavier. . .harder to bear, somehow.

“Where did Cloudy go?” Scazzarda yelled to Springtime over the roar of the rain.

“She went off with Liloy to find Sir Meta Knight, I think,” Springtime shouted back. “I’m sure they’ll arrive soon.” I pray, she added mentally.

Scazzarda shielded her eyes from the blinding rain droplets and peered across the field to the woods. She stood there a few minutes, waiting for her son, his friend, and his daughter to reappear from among the trees. The women, their veils and shawls flap-flapping in the wind like ghostly banners, and the men, their faces set, waited behind her. No one uttered a sound.

At length, three figures emerged from the dark woods and walked toward the group clustered on the hillside. They were Meta Knight, Cloudy, and Liloy. All three were soaked and their appearances were bedraggled, but they appeared to be okay.

Scazzarda waited until the three crossed the field, climbed up the hill, and joined the group. Then she reached out and took her son into her arms, embracing him tightly. “Magnus, I was so worried about you!” she said softly. “You ran off and I didn’t know what had happened to you! I’m glad little Cloudy and your daughter went after you and made sure you were okay.” She drew back a little and looked deep into his eyes. “Are you all right?”

He didn’t answer for the longest time; instead, he looked over at Cloudy and Liloy, who gazed back at him, their eyes shadowed, their faces dark. At last, he turned back to his mother and quietly said, “I am all right, Mother. I appreciate your concern.”

Scazzarda heaved a sigh of relief. “Oh, good. I’m glad you’re okay, Magnus, I would hate for anything to happen to you.” His eyes flashed gray, but she didn’t notice, thankfully. It’s better to keep her in the dark about the whole thing. . .or is it? Cloudy wondered.

Reverend Helman came up to the group and looked out over the field, which was already beginning to flood. The mucky, muddy water formed puddles in the beaten, pressed corners of the field; the mud made a sucking sound when anyone stepped in it and tried to pull his foot back out. “Thank God we got out of there when we did,” he spoke gravely. “We managed to fill in the grave, but if it floods any more the casket’s liable to be lifted out of the grave and possibly tossed somewhere.”

Cloudy shuddered at the thought of waking up and opening her front door to a casket lying on the porch. Goosebumps prickled along her skin; shivers crawled down her spine. The rain continued to pour down on her, making her feel even more cold, wet, and miserable than she already was. The sun was nowhere to be seen; only thick, grayish-black clouds covered the sky.

“Come on, dear,” Springtime said quietly, steering her away from the congregation of mourners. “Let’s go home.”

Cloudy turned, about to walk away with her family, then paused and looked back one last time at the headstone on which was crudely carved the name “Tilry Stellarum.” She couldn’t believe he was dead, lying in the dirt, and would soon become part of the dust. She glumly recalled the Bible verse of Genesis 3:19, “. . .for dust you are and to dust you will return.” It was a truth undeniable, she knew, but this was the first time she had ever witnessed a process that would soon lead to the outcome of that verse. She turned her face away from the grave and fell into step with her mother, heading down the hill, taking great care to avoid large puddles.

 

* * * * *

 

Meanwhile, Liloy and her friend from high school, Lilith Manshion, were walking down the hill and back to Liloy’s house. Lilith was expressing her sorrow for Liloy’s husband’s passing. “He was a great person,” she said. “It’s too bad he had to die. He would have loved to see his child.”

Liloy sighed and looked up to the roiling sky. Now was the time to reveal her innermost thoughts. “Lilith, I’ve been thinking about something very important, and I need your opinion on this. You’re a great friend of mine, and I know you’ll have some ideas.”

“Sure, I’ll help,” Lilith answered, pausing and gazing intently at her friend. “What do you want to talk about?”

Liloy inhaled and then slowly let her breath out, choosing her words carefully. “What am I going to do about my baby?” she wondered. “Now that Tilry’s gone, there’s no way I can raise him on my own. I’m not even eighteen yet!” She wiped a tear from her eye. “Tilry was the only reason I hung on for as long as I did, but since he died, my rope has been down to a thread.”

Lilth placed her hand on Liloy’s. “Dear, I know how you feel in this situation, and I believe I can provide an answer to your dilemma. It may not be easy, but sometimes the hardest choice is the right one.”

“Really?” Liloy perked up. “What is it?”

Lilith looked over at a dead oak tree rotting away in the misty rain, which was tapering off. “Let go of what you love,” she said. Then seeing Liloy’s puzzled expression, hastened to add, “To put it simply yet nicely, opting for a different path.”

Liloy halted right in her tracks and stared wide-eyed at her friend. “Are you saying to end my pregnancy?!” she exclaimed. “Lilith, how could you advise such a thing!”

“I was only making a suggestion,” Lilith said condescendingly. “Of course, you don’t have to do it, you know. You could just raise him yourself.”

“W-Why can’t I just put him up for adoption or something?” Liloy heatedly demanded.

“Maybe you could,” Lilith replied, “but what if no one adopts him? What if he remains in the orphanage or foster care section for the rest of his life, being worked hard and ordered about day after day? Or what if you do decide to raise him and he doesn’t have a mattress to sleep on, can’t get a proper education, or when he’s older, a well-paying job? What if he has to live on the street, barely eating, barely surviving, because of the lack of money? And all because his mother chose the harder route of suffering instead of doing the kinder thing that would allow him to live in peace?”

“I —” Liloy wanted to speak, to tell Lilith she disagreed with her friend’s interpretation of sacred life, but the words seemed stuck in her throat. Somehow, she had the weirdest feeling that perhaps Lilith was right. Maybe her baby never would get adopted. Maybe they would have to live on the street because she couldn’t adequately provide for him. Maybe getting the load of a new child off her mind and body would ease the tension and the ache of being left behind. But a voice in her heart whispered to her that doing such a thing would not bring relief, only regret.

“What were you going to say?” Lilith looked sidewise at Liloy, her blueish-purple eyes curious.

“I—I—” Liloy suddenly didn’t have the heart to tell Lilith her true thoughts. “I was just going to say that—I will. . .definitely.  .  .think about what you said.”

“You’d do well to,” Lilith answered, beginning to walk again. “I am your friend, and I am only trying to help.”

“I know,” Liloy answered under her breath in a mournful tone, trailing behind her friend.

 

* * * * *

 

That evening, Springtime’s family was sitting around the kitchen table, eating dinner. The rain hammered mercilessly outside, its pitter-pattering making a tinkling noise on the roof. Springtime was only about a fourth through her food when she noticed Cloudy was not in her usual spot. Springtime cast a helpless glance at her husband and saw the troubled look in his eyes, the creased expression of worry on his face. The funeral had no doubt really taken a toll on Cloudy. And I don’t think the fact that I tried to practically shove her over to look at Tilry in his casket helped much either, she thought regretfully. I’m sorry, Cloudy. If I had only know how much this would have affected you, I would never have brought you to the ceremony.

“What’s taking Cloudy so long?” Sniper inquired, sinking his teeth into his third wiener. “She’s missing all this good food!”

“I’ll go see to her,” Springtime offered, rising from the table.

But just as she left the kitchen and crossed the parlor, a rap came on the door. She went to open it, and was deftly surprised to see Meta Knight with his daughter and mother. All three were drenches in mud and rain and looked tired.

“I’m sorry if we intruded into your nightly routine,” Scazzarda apologized, “but I am leaving on a short drive to my sister’s house in Blackville and I don’t want Magnus to be left alone in the cabin. Liloy shouldn’t be alone either, so I brought them here. Hope you don’t mind.”

“O-Of course I d-don’t,” Springtime stammered, trying to get over her amazement at three Stellarum members randomly showing up on her front doorstep at eight o’clock at night. Still, she figured, Scazzarda must be pretty desperate to get these two with company if she walks all the way over here this late. “We’ll find a place for them to sleep tonight.”

“Thanks,” Scazzarda whispered gratefully. Then she disappeared into the slushy, inky blackness of rain.

Springtime escorted father and daughter inside and shut the door. The two stood on the welcome mat, dripping rain onto the floor and creating rivulets of water. “Oh, my,” Springtime chuckled. “How rude of me to stand around nice and dry while you two are probably cold and wet. I’ll quickly run upstairs and grab some towels, and then I’ll make two extra plates of food. After all, in this house, all are welcome!”

“Except for creeps!” Sniper yelled through the partway-open kitchen door.

“Yeah. . .except for creeps.” Springtime then rushed off to do the deeds she had promised Meta Knight and Liloy.

 

* * * * *

 

Springtime pushed open Cloudy’s bedroom door and discovered her child sitting on the bed, the snowy lace canopy curtain creating a mystical appearance around her. Cloudy stared broodingly at the wall, her eyes devoid of any happiness. The joy she felt when she had first heard about Tilry’s possible recovery had been tarnished when he had fallen ill again and completely disintegrated when he had died. Springtime looked out at the rain and saw the sheets descending hard by the hazy ring of the lamppost’s light. Then she came over to he daughter and sat beside her. “Meta Knight’s here with Liloy,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. “Maybe you’d like to see them?”

Cloudy didn’t answer. When she finally spoke, it wasn’t the answer Springtime had expected. “As long as they’re actually here,” she said in a tone which indicated something other than doubt in her mother. Instead, it indicated a shadow that grasped joy and vanished, leaving behind only the wind of bewilderment, tears, and anger. Death was the name of that shadow.

Springtime was taken aback a moment, but said, “Darling, this funeral has really messed with your mind, hasn’t it?”

“It shouldn’t have happened,” the puppy replied, standing and walking to the window.

“You’re right,” Springtime said. “It should not have happened. But because Adam and Eve ate of the forbidden fruit in the garden of Eden, now sin has cursed the world. Everyone sins. And God says that the punishment for sin is death.”

Cloudy heard, but the words didn’t penetrate her heart. She murmured to herself, “It shouldn’t have happened.” And again she repeated those painfully truthful words, “It shouldn’t have, and yet. . .I knew it would.”

Springtime started, alarmed suddenly. “What do you mean, you knew it would happen?”

Cloudy frowned, puckering her brow as she tried to think of how explain her vison of a few days before. “I had a dream,” she said slowly, “and in my dream, I was on a platform that kept turning in all directions. And everywhere I turned, I saw Tilry lying in a casket. When I woke up, I began to wonder if that was another vision I had, since Jacob once told me I had a rare gift for glimpsing the future on rare occasions.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this from the start?” Springtime said.

“I don’t know,” Cloudy said, hanging her head as if she had done something wrong. “I guess I just didn’t.”

There was a quietness so still Springtime almost wished she could hear a pin drop or a crash of thunder. But none of those two things occurred; the room remained silent. And in the strangest way, Springtime though, chills running down her spine, that almost reminds of Tilry. He who once spoke will now forever be silent. . .we’ll never hear your voice again, Tilry, this side of heaven.

 

* * * * *

 

“So your vision served as a forewarning to Tilry’s death,” Meta Knight spoke in a slow, hynotic monotone, staring upward at the rain falling violently and tilting the grass stalks.

“Yeah,” Cloudy said in a hushed voice. “I guess it was. But I suppose at the time, I just didn’t know it.”

The two friends were sitting on the porch, watching the rain and discussing the events of the past week.

Meta Knight released a pained sigh. “I never dreamed such a tragedy would befall my family so soon. And Liloy. . .she so wanted him to see her baby. But now he’s gone. And he’ll never come back. He—” He buried his face in his hands and began to cry, deep sobs wracking his frame. “Why—Why did it have to happen?”

“I don’t know,” Cloudy answered, feeling misery swell up deep within her, threatening to drown her. “I don’t know why it happened, Meta Knight. But it shouldn’t have. It never should have.” She took a deep breath as she lifted her face to the sky and took a few timid steps closer to the porch railing. The rain blew against her face, stinging her nose and forehead. She didn’t flinch in the slightest, though. And suddenly, the rain, the gray clouds, the darkness—it all seemed to remind her of something that once she had taken for granted but now she knew she would no longer. “We can never go back,” she whispered, her voice sounding louder against the roaring rain. “We can only go forward. Forward is the only way left to us now. The past is past; the future is before us. That’s the only way we can go. On and on we must push.”

The words danced in her head. On and on. . .On and on. . .On and on. . . The beat pounded in her head, making her feel woozy and disoriented. She felt as if she were spinning out of space and time. Meta Knight didn’t move; his face remained concealed in his hands; his figure shook with sobs.

Cloudy put out a paw and let the rain cascade over it, wishing she could wash away the memories and scars of this horrible day from her mind. More than that, she wished she could go back in time and change history. She wished she could change the outcome of what was. But it didn’t work that way, though, and she knew it. They could never go back; forward was the only path worth choosing this side of heaven.

Books

Book 4: Every Life is Beautiful

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Chapter Four: River Mourning

 

The daunting sky loomed overhead, overcast with dark-gray, almost black, cumulonimbus clouds. Though no rain was falling, the air was dense and oppressive, saturated with a suffocating humidity. The wind swept past in strong gusts. Cloudy and Star, clad in black, lacy shawls and veils, slowly followed their mother, dressed in similar attire, to the burial ground where Tilry was to be put to rest. Cloudy felt very vexatious about stepping onto land where a dead body was to lie in the ground. Her heart tightened with an inexplicable ache; dread befell her. She wasn’t at all ready for this, and she knew it. She was getting a very bad feeling about this natural burial she was to attend.

At last, they reached the burial plot—a piece of land owned by a woman named Donya Herder—and walked over to where a group of mourners were clustered together, their heads bowed or lifted upward to the sky as if in worship. Cloudy noted that most wore black just as she did—the women veils or shawls and the men cloaks or tuxedos. The garments blended into the shadowed landscape of sorrow and heaviness.

Showerstorm and Cloudy’s brothers were already there, waiting for the women. The boys were dressed in black cloaks. Their glum faces reflected the blackness of the day as they stared at the girls. Cloudy and Star stared back at them, a dull pallor of sadness mirroring their bleak thoughts. Springtime and Showerstorm cast distressed glances at each other, wondering if perhaps this dolorous atmosphere would be too much for their children. “Should we have brought them?” Springtime worriedly murmured.

“If they are going to learn the emotionally hard way what death truly feels like both physically and mentally, now is the time,” Showerstorm firmly replied. “Better now than later. They’ll be able to cope with it better when they’re older.”

Cloudy wasn’t paying any attention to her parents’ hushed conversation. Her eyes were roaming over the field, hunting for a particular person she really wanted to see and comfort but knew he probably wouldn’t be present. To her amazement, he was at hand—Sir Meta Knight.

“There he is,” Cloudy said softly.

Sniper followed his sister’s gaze and spotted the knight. “Meta Knight is here, huh?” His voice was unusually gentle, which struck Cloudy as offbeat. “I feel sorry for him. He lost his son-in-law at such a young age.”

“Twenty-one years,” Cloudy cited. “How horrible to die so young. I wouldn’t want to die in the prime of my life.”

“Me, neither,” Sniper said with a shiver. “Ooh, I get goosebumps just thinking about it!”

Cloudy’s attention was directed back toward Meta Knight. He was standing beside Liloy, his head down. Even from a distance, she could tell he was crying. Liloy was holding his hand, speaking comfortingly and quietly to him, but it didn’t seem to soothe him any. The Malamute’s ears withered and her face fell; she stared at the wet grass. She didn’t know what to do; she felt lost and distant, as if in a dream.

This isn’t fair, she bitterly thought. Tilry shouldn’t have died! Not when Liloy is this close to her time! How could he leave her behind. . .and his child? His son or daughter? What about the baby he prayed to see? How can Liloy bring him up without her husband to be a dad to the baby, to love, care, play with? She scuffed her paw in the wet earth, feeling virulence rise in her. I can’t do this. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to attend this funeral—ever! Instantly she stopped herself, perplexed. Tilry was the one whom she was supposed to be paying her respects to! How then could she think of herself more than the funeral of one who had loved her and prayed for all, no matter his circumstances? Am I just being selfish or are my motivations activated for a different reason? she pondered, thinkng hard about her introspection.

Reverend Helman, the dignified clergyman who was to lead the service at the gravesite, sauntered to the front of the crowd and assumed his place next to the grave. “Let us commence with the opening prayer,” he said formally but solemnly.

As the minister prayed, Cloudy shifted from foot in foot in discomfort of the funeral and the itchy veil she wore. Scazzarda, standing a little ways away from her son and granddaughter, a diaphanous veil of black draped over her blond hair and across her forehead, had her head bowed in prayer. Tears streaked her face. Cloudy, fear shooting through her, looked away from the woman and to the dismal, lowering sky, the clouds gray, swirling masses.

“So, our gracious Heavenly Father,” the minister concluded, “as we assemble to honor our friend Tilry, permeate this abode with Your comforting and beautiful ubiety. Help us through this span of mourning and bereavement of a life well-lived for Your glory alone. In Your holy, majestic Name we pray, amen.”

“Amen,” the congregation echoed, raising their heads.

Reverend Helman then proceeded with the Scripture reading of several key passages on death and resurrection, such as Psalm 23, John 14:1-3, 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14, Job 19:25-27, and a few other portions from the Bible. Cloudy heard everything the preacher read, but didn’t truly let the full meaning of the promise of life after death sink into her heart. She was too grieved about Tilry and worried about Meta Knight to truly listen and accept God’s assurance of seeing Him again if we have faith.

After the Scripture reading was concluded, there was a terse respite. Then Scazzarda softly began to sing a beloved hymn Cloudy had never heard before: “How Great Thou Art.”

 

“Oh Lord, my God,
When I, in awesome wonder
Consider all the worlds Thy hands have made;
I see the stars,
I hear the rolling thunder;
Thy power throughout the universe displayed.

Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!”

 

Cloudy barely auscultated the words of the comely oratorio; she was so lost in her thoughts about Tilry and his painful death. The clergyman led them in a few more hymns, such as “It Is Well With My Soul,” “Abide With Me,” and “The Strife is O’er.” But later, Cloudy confessed she didn’t recall a word of the songs. Her mind was on one person—Tilry.

Liloy was chosen to deliver the eulogy. Cloudy knew she was in no condition to speak tribute, judging from her trembling form and shaky walk, but Cloudy admired the girl’s spunk and spirit to stand up and say what needed to be said in honor of one who was so passionate about serving God and loving others.

“Friends,” she began solemnly, “we are gathered here today in order to celebrate our deceased friend, Tilry Stellarum, who just a few days ago went to his reward.

“My name is Liloy, and I am the wife of Tilry Stellarum. I thank everyone for attending this funeral to celebrate the life of one very special to us all. Tilry was a kind, gentle soul with a prioritized need for others. He helped those in distress, comforted those who were sad or grieving, and served God with all his heart. He was born in Spring Breeze and dedicated his life to humbly, faithfully show God’s glory and light to a dark world.”

Liloy smiled. “One of the most cherished memories locked deep in my heart is when I was about five years old. He helped and comforted me after I fell out of a tree and badly injured myself. He rode with me in the back of the ambulance to  the hospital and kept me company whenever I became lonely by myself in my room. That special moment captured what he was truly like and who he truly was.

“Tilry touched so many lives, and his spirit will forever live on in our hearts, but especially in mine. We will always commemorate his thoughtful, genuine spirit of gentleness and self-control and his love and joy, even in trials.

“Very few have such a passion to persevere and follow God even in their trials as Tilry did,” Liloy closed. “And I pray that all who have witnessed the life of Tilry Stellarum will be inspired to walk the path he did and choose joy, even in death.” She looked around at her family and friends and slowly walked back to her place in the crowd.

Then came the committal. Reverend Helman signaled to four young men to pick up the bier lying a short ways off from the mourners and bring it to the hole in the ground. The men obliged and set it down beside the grave. “Anyone who wishes may take one last look at Tilry before he is buried,” the preacher said gravely.

Cloudy’s blood froze at those haunting words. Liloy stepped forward and looked into the opened casket, and a fiery shadow of rage seemed to pass over her face. Then the shadow passed and she was once more the quiet, sorrowful girl of seventeen. She walked back over beside her father. Others took Liloy’s place to look upon the face of their deceased friend one last time.

“Cloudy,” Springtime whispered. Cloudy craned her neck to look at her mom. “Go see Tilry, dear.”

Cloudy’s eyes popped wide open. All at once her legs felt rubbery and weak. “No!” she responded frantically, backing away, shaking her head furiously. “I-I don’t want to!”

“Cloudburst,” Springtime repeated, her voice ringing with sternness. “I said, go see him.”

Cloudy refused.

“Why not? Don’t you want to?”

“No!” Cloudy knew that sounded extremely selfish, but she couldn’t help herself—she didn’t want to see Tilry in his expired state. She didn’t want to see him lying there so cold and stiff, his body merely a shell which his soul once occupied and did no longer.

Springtime broke away from the crowd and marched over to Cloudy. “Listen to me,” she said coldly. “I want you to go see him. You need to adequately pay him your respects.”

“I can pay him my respects just fine from over here!” Cloudy boldly answered, her eyes flashing fire.

“Cloudy, go over and look at him! That’s all I’m asking!” Springtime exclaimed, tossing her head in frustration. “Why is that so hard?”

“Because—Because. . .” Cloudy didn’t know why. All she knew was that she was terrified of seeing Tilry in his casket. “I don’t know! I don’t want to look him in the face! Please don’t make me!”

“You have to!” Springtime insisted. “Go!”

“No!” Cloudy cried. Her outburst was pitiful and attracted Meta Knight’s attention. He strode over to see what all the ruckus was.

“What is going on?” he demanded.

“She’s trying to make me see Tilry and I don’t want to!” wailed Cloudy. “I’m too scared! Don’t let her do it, Meta Knight!”

Meta Knight clenched his fists. “Springtime, stop trying to force the child to go over there and look a dead person in the face!” he ordered. “She’s so young and the last thing I want is for her to become disturbingly traumatized as I am! Do you hear me? Do not make her look at Tilry!”

Springtime withdrew at his angered tone, her eyes vast in disbelief. “I didn’t mean anything,” she said in a small voice. “It’s just—when my aunt died, my mom made me look her in the face, even when I didn’t want to. She explained it was a way of showing you truly did want to pay your respects and honor the deceased one. I just wanted Cloudy to understand that.”

Meta Knight turned away, his breathing heavy. He realized he was losing control of himself and tried to calm down, but he was unable to. “Just—leave the child alone,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Please.” He quickly walked off by himself and leaned against a tree, shaking all over.

Cloudy’s ears flattened on her head and she whimpered. Springtime stared at her for a moment, then turned away, her eyes showing she was in abysmal thinking mode. The darkening sky seemed to echo her turbulent, troubling thoughts.

Cloudy watched Star hesitantly approach the casket and place her front paws on the bier, bending over to look inside. The moment she peered inside, a look of horror, fright, and loathing spread over her face and she released a loud shriek, darting back to her mother and burying her face in her chest, wailing loudly. Springtime attempted to pacify her, but to no avail. Star kept on crying. Meta Knight heard the noise created by Star and glanced over at her. His eyes faded to a dark gray and his head lowered. Cloudy felt terrible.

Reverend Helman then gave the order to detrude Tilry into the earth. As the four young men did so, Liloy began to cry aloud, her emotions raw and uncontained. Meta Knight didn’t move, but Cloudy could see him trembling. Her ears went back in discomposure. A few looked sympathetic at Liloy’s grief while others seemed embarrassed.

The clergyman began to pray the committal prayers. “Dear Father, we allot this body to the ground, earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, searching for Your blessed hope of resurrection. We allocate this venerated to Your care, and we ask for Your peace to besiege us as we lament the passing of our dear friend, Tilry Stellarum.”

A stifled sob came from Meta Knight. Cloudy gasped in alarm, wishing with all her heart—good night, why did this have to happen?! Why did Tilry have to die?!

“For as much as it has pleased You, God, to remove from this world the irreplaceable soul of Tilry Stellarum, we henceforth commit his body to the earth, searching for that blessed hope when You Yourself shall detrain from Heaven,” Reverend Helman continued. “We praise and thank You for Tilry’s time with us here on this earth, and we know that the body that lies in this casket is not Tilry’s, but rather the edifice in which he dwelt. We accede that Tilry is rejoicing, at this instant, in Your presence, enjoying Heaven’s bountiful blessings.”

Reverend Helman sighed and folded his hands. “In the promise of resurgence to eternity through the promise of You, Jesus Christ, we loyally and triumphantly give Tilry over to Your beautiful and compassionate care.”

He then asked everyone to bow their heads while he recited the blessing: “The Lord bless him and keep him; the Lord make His face shine upon him and be gracious to him. Amen.”

“Amen,” echoed the throng.

Cloudy suddenly heard running footsteps and turned to see Meta Knight dashing toward the woods, his cape flapping in the rising wind. With a cry of anxiousness, she leaped up. “Meta Knight!” she shouted after him. “Meta Knight!”

The knight paid no heed to her panic-stricken calls.

Liloy heard Cloudy’s shout and stared after her father as he vanished into the forbidding mass of trees. Then she jumped to action. “Let’s go after him!” she exclaimed.

“What?!” Cloudy blurted. “Um, maybe we shouldn’t! He might want to be alone!”

Cloudy then noticed the bright sheen of panic in Liloy’s eyes. “That’s exactly why I want to go after him!” she answered. Then she was off.

“Wait for me!” Cloudy yelled, taking off after the swift-footed girl. In a moment she had caught up to Liloy and both raced into the woods, shouting Meta Knight’s name at the top of their lungs. After a few minutes they stopped running, out of breath and exhausted.

Cloudy flopped to the ground, trying to catch her breath. “Where is he?” she asked, panting. “Why did he leave?”

“I don’t know!” Liloy cried out, burying her face in her hands. Cloudy jumped at her outcry. “I don’t know anything! I just want him to be safe! I don’t want to lose him too!”

Cloudy didn’t know what she meant, but before she could ask, she heard the sound of rushing water. Her ears perked up. A river! she thought. And her ears also picked up another sound—a person crying. “Liloy?”

“What?” Liloy asked, wiping her eyes.

“I think I know where Meta Knight is,” replied Cloudy quickly. She jerked her head in the direction of the sound of the river. “I bet he’s by the river. Let’s go to him!”

“All right,” Liloy agreed, running after Cloudy and stepping up her pace a notch.

 

* * * * *

 

Finally, after minutes of walking and pushing through undergrowth and tangled vines, they came to a deep, swirling river dotted with dead foliage and crackling leaves left over from winter. Meta Knight was sitting beside the river, bent over, the edges of his cape draped in the water. Sobs of pain and trepidation escaped him as he shook violently.

Liloy placed her hands over her mouth and closed her eyes. Cloudy half-hid behind her, frightened. “Oh, what’s wrong with him?” the puppy asked in a quivering tone. “Why did he run away?”

“I don’t know,” Liloy answered bravely, opening her eyes, “but I will find out.” She gestured for Cloudy to wait there and slowly walked to her father. He didn’t look up or move. She knelt beside him, removed her veil, and laid it over his shoulders, and only then did he raise his head to look up into his foster daughter’s face.

“Why are you here?” he asked in a choked voice.

“I was afraid for you,” Liloy explained. “You ran off so suddenly and I. . .I was worried. I―” she paused and shook her head as if in dubiety. “Father, why did you leave?” she gently inquired.

“I couldn’t take it anymore.” The words were not proud and forceful, but insecure and precarious. “I didn’t want to see my son-in-law being placed into the ground. I’ve seen that too many times to count with my friends who used to be in the army. . .” His voice broke and he caught hold of her hand, pressing his face into her shoulder. Liloy placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I. . .I couldn’t handle my emotions, Liloy. I couldn’t. . .”

“Hey.” She took hold of both his hands and looked into his eyes. “It’s all right. Breathe.” She hugged him, speaking soothingly to him. “It’s okay.”

Cloudy watched father and daughter with rapt stupefaction, a glint of awe in her eye. “How odd,” she muttered, “but why does that look so familiar to me?” After a bit of thought-searching, she knew. It had occurred last Christmas, when their plane bringing them to Leupochena had crashed and left Meta Knight traumatized. Cloudy had comforted him the same way Liloy was comforting him now.

That was why it was recognizable.

After waiting in the shadows for a while, Cloudy decided to make her move. She emerged from among the trees and made her way over to Meta Knight. At first he seemed startled to see her, but then he relaxed. “I should have known you would follow me out here, little one,” he spoke, rubbing her between the ears.

“Meta Knight, please come back with us to the burial plot,” pleaded Cloudy. Then she wished she hadn’t requested such a thing, for Meta Knight’s eyes flashed dark-green and then gray. His body tensed. There was a long silence.

“No,” he said at last. “I―forgive me, child, but I cannot go back.” His voice faltered. “Please go without me.”

“We can’t,” Liloy said. “We want you with us, Father. Please. Come back.”

“I will not go.” He turned his back on them. “Go without me.”

Cloudy sighed and rolled her eyes to the heavens. She didn’t mean to get annoyed with him, but his attitude really nagged at her sometimes. “Why not, Meta Knight?” she said in a peeved tone. Then without waiting for him to answer, she went on, “Listen, you can’t keep running away from your problems. That won’t help you solve them. It’ll only make the problem harder to resolve.” She tapped her foot on the ground. “If you’re not willing to change your problems, Sir Meta Knight―” She paused for dramatic effect. “―then your problems will eventually begin to change you.”

Meta Knight slowly stood to his feet and turned to face the brave Star Warrior child staring at him with a determined, fearless stare. For a long moment, their gazes locked, and no one said anything. Then without warning, his hand clenched into a fist, and with an anguished cry he struck it hard against a tree trunk. Cloudy yelped in surprise at the loud crack that resounded throughout the woods when his fist landed on and fractured the bark. Liloy gaped at her father, shocked.

Meta Knight lowered his hand and sank to the ground, weeping softly. Cloudy and Liloy looked at each other, eyes wide in perturbation. Liloy’s facial expression asked a silent question; Cloudy answered with a simple shake of the head. There was no use trying to convince him to come back with them. He would never do it.

“Is there nothing—nothing we can do?” Liloy begged.

Her words were drowned out by a sudden clap of thunder. Cloudy stared up at the awning of trees, squinting to see between the filters of overhanging leaves. A drop of rain on her nose surprised her for a laconic moment. Then another fell to the ground, and then another, and another. Soon the raindrops were pelting down, faster and faster, stinging their faces, drenching them all in a matter of seconds.

“Ugh!” Cloudy groaned, shaking herself. “I’m all wet!”

Liloy looked down at the river and gasped. “Cloudy!” she cried out, pointing to the silver filament threading its way through the towering trees standing as erect as sentries on duty to protect their ramparts. “The river is flooding!”

“And we’re right in a low-lying area!” Cloudy said with horror in her voice. “We need to get out of here, and we need to make it snappy!”

Liloy ran back to her father and grabbed his hand, trying to pull him to his feet, but he pushed her away. “Leave me alone!” he ordered.

“Father, the river! It’s flooding!” Liloy cried in desperation, again pulling at his hand, aspiring to get him to safety. He again thrust her away, refusing her help. “Father!”

“Liloy, leave me!” Meta Knight shouted over the pounding rain and roaring river. “Leave me be!”

“Father, please!” Liloy pleaded, but he backed away from her, his hand straying to the hilt of his sword. Cloudy didn’t like his look; she was getting a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Please don’t do anything you’ll regret later on, Meta Knight, she silently begged.

“Meta Knight!” she hollered over the noise of the blowing rain and wind. “We need to get out of here or we’ll drown in a flash flood! Come on!”

“You two go back! I will not depart from this place!” The voice, so cold and steely, caused little prickles of fear to needle Cloudy’s skin. What was he planning to do? What would they do if he did something to himself?

The words spun in Cloudy’s mind as she tried to weave them together in a pattern like silk thread. She repeated them in her head, over and over again, trying to find the sequence of them. Suddenly alarm bells began to jump and go off in her head. Liloy’s words leaped into her mind:

“I just want him to be safe! I don’t want to lose him too!”

That’s it! Cloudy thought to herself, panic overwhelming her whole being. He’s going to. . .  No way, nohow! She couldn’t let that happen!!

“No!” she screamed into the dark woods. “No, no! Meta Knight, come back! Don’t do it!” Her cry was a plea for him to let them help, to let them guide him through this harrowing time of lamentation for Tilry. They didn’t want him to make the most common and the biggest mistake anyone could ever make in their life.

Liloy echoed the puppy’s cry, begging him to stay. “What would we do without you?!” she insisted. “We couldn’t live without you, Father!”

Their words seemed to have a dramatic effect on Meta Knight. He halted, slowly turned to stare at them, and the hardened gaze left his face. The hand that was touching the sword’s hilt gradually dropped to his side. There was no sound but the mournful pat-patter of the rain dripping through the leaves and falling lightly to the ground.

And still the two young friends waited on the high bank, silently begging him to come back with them―alive.

Books

Book 4: Every Life is Beautiful

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Chapter Three: Unexpected Passing

 

The days passed uneventfully in a calm, unremarkable rhythm. Springtime and Showerstorm took turns caring for, tenderly feeding, and unwaveringly watching with determined devotion over the birds. Occasionally when Scazzarda visited, she would take over the job of caregiver, tending to the babies like they were part of her own family. Meta Knight would sometimes come with her, but he never directly assisted with the bird care. He would either stand nearby and watch, or merely linger at and stare out the window for long periods of time, fiddling with the folds of his cape, as if fighting on a battlefield of haunting memories and dark premonitions. He seemed unnerved; an aura of shadow seemed to follow wherever he went. Cloudy observed him sometimes, wondering what was marching across the parade ground of his mind. But when she tried to speak to him about it, he tactfully averted the subject, insisting it was nothing. Cloudy wasn’t buying it, however. She knew him well enough to know when he was hurting or struggling through a difficult season or problem. “Nothing” to her was therefore unsatisfactory when it came to Meta Knight.

It seemed these days Liloy often dropped in for a friendly visit. She would chatter incessantly about the weather, Tilry, her baby, and so forth. Cloudy suspected the only reason she came to visit was to see the development of the birds and because she was lonesome. She didn’t really mind Liloy’s frequent visits, but they were beginning to wear her down. Day after day of trivial weather talk didn’t suit her agenda too well.

And the birds were starting to worry the puppy as well. Cloudy expected them to show a drastic improvement once they were being cared for, but to her consternation, they didn’t seem to be growing much, despite the excellent care and nurturing they were receiving. They didn’t eator drink much, their few feathers were sparse, and they were barely breathing. When this was  pointed out to Liloy, Cloudy didn’t miss the perturbed demeanor on the young woman’s face as Liloy replaced the fruit cubes in the dish. Something was amiss, very wrong. That much Cloudy knew.

Some nights, the birds’ bad health bothered Cloudy so much she could hardly sleep. She tossed and turned all throughout the long hours of the night, wondering if they would survive. Would all their efforts to save them and let them have a chance to live a happy life pay off? Cloudy hoped so, but she couldn’t get the problem off her mind, no matter how much she tried to reassure herself.

One evening, Cloudy invited Meta Knight and Liloy to her house for dinner. After supper was over, father, daughter, and puppy moved to the parlor and seated themselves in a semicircle round the fireplace, though it was not at all cold outside. Liloy was in Springtime’s rocking chair that Showerstorm had made her for their first anniversary. Meta Knight and Cloudy were seated on the floor, looking up at Liloy.

Liloy settled into the soft back of the rocking chair and laughed gaily, her face alight with elation. “Now who wants to hear the latest news on my beloved?” she questioned, her eyes sparkling.

“I presume you mean Tilry?” Cloudy asked absentmindedly, her eyes on the intricate diamond-patterned ceiling.

“Yes, indeed. Father and I been going to see him every few days,” she told Cloudy. “He’s steadily improving and the doctors say he’s going to win against the cancer. Personally, I believe he will.”

Cloudy didn’t say anything. She just glanced at Liloy and then continued her vigil at the ceiling. “Oh, that’s nice,” she mumbled in a hollow tone, attempting to sound like she meant it but failing.

Liloy raised an eyebrow. “Cloudy, are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m okay,” Cloudy said evenly. She sighed worriedly and scratched her ear, her heart heavy, wondering how she should begin to explain her thoughts.

Liloy didn’t notice. “Father,” she spoke, addressing herself to Meta Knight, “do you think it would be possible for Tilry to come to Cloudy’s party?”

“If he recovers, then yes, he can come,” Meta Knight said, his tone measured.

Liloy smiled widely, her eyes dreamy as she played with a loose splinter on the chair’s wood. Cloudy didn’t fail to note that Meta Knight had said the word “if.” Then as that truth dawned on her, she began to get bothered. Did Meta Knight sense, or even know, something was going to go wrong with Tilry? And if so, why did he not come right out and say it?

“Oh, I’m so glad things are getting better,” Liloy said in a relieved intonation. “For a while I was afraid we would never see the light at the other side of the tunnel. But thanks be to God, brighter days are ahead.”

Meta Knight sharply drew in his breath and his grip tightened on his cape. Cloudy stared at him in mingled alarm and confusion. What was going on?

“I can’t wait to show my baby to Tilry,” Liloy went on. “I wonder if it’ll look just like him.”

There was a thump as Meta Knight stood up and crossed the room. Then the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut was heard. Liloy’s face registered surprise, then resentment, and last of all puzzlement. “Was it something I said?” she asked Cloudy.

Cloudy didn’t answer. “Um, I’ll go out and see him,” she offered. “Maybe I can find out what’s the matter.” She scooted toward the door and flung it open, then stepped out into the cool night air. She could vaguely see the shadows of the trees way across the pasture. The faint yellow glow of the streetlamp bathed the slick road, wet from the recent spring rains. And standing at the bottom of the steps, near the blossoming rosebushes, was Meta Knight himself.

“Why did you leave?” was Cloudy’s first question as she tramped down the steps, being careful not to slip.

Meta Knight didn’t turn around as he answered. “I can’t keep doing this, Cloudy.”

“Doing what?” Cloudy pressed, knitting her brow.

There was a long pause. Cloudy waited patiently, silently letting her friend know she wasn’t leaving him alone with his troubles.

“I cannot keep pretending to believe Tilry will be all right,” Meta Knight said at last. “I know he will not, but still I continue to behave as if he will.” He covered his face with his hands. “I swear, Cloudy, something. . .something will go wrong. Something heinous will happen to my son-in-law.”

“What makes you say such a thing?” Cloudy gently demanded.

Meta Knight shook his head. “I have a sixth sense. I get these feelings when something bad is going to occur.”

Cloudy smiled disarmingly. “What you feel cannot always be your main reasoning point for making decisions, Sir Meta Knight. That could lead to rash choices and possibly danger on your part.”

Meta Knight was adamant in his knowledge. “No, Cloudy. I know myself. And I know that every time I get these feelings, something awful happens. Say what you want, but I know. I know.”

Cloudy didn’t reply to that. If there was nothing she could say or do to change her friend’s mind, then she wouldn’t even try. But as she turned to go back inside, she heard herself say, “Not everything goes according to our plans, Meta Knight. But with God, nothing happens that is not allowed.” Then she disappeared inside, leaving her friend alone in the brooding darkness once more.

 

* * * * *

 

Cloudy woke to the sun shining through her balcony doors and immediately felt more cheerful than she had the previous night. She had had one nightmare after another. In her nightmares, she was sitting on a revolving platform made of solid steel. No matter which direction she turned, she kept seeing Tilry lying motionless in a casket and the baby birds sprawled on the ground, dead.

Cloudy jumped out of bed and walked onto her balcony. She squinted against the glaring sunlight, feeling it slowly heat her fur. As she gazed at the bright green grass down below, she remembered last night’s nightmare and her talk with Meta Knight two days ago. A shiver traveled down her spine. Was it possible she was having some kind of ESP, something that was telling her Tilry—and the birds—would die? It seemed impossible, but then again, she realized she probably did have some type of psychic power. She remembered Jacob Osen, her kindly old friend, and his wise, knowing words after she had had a mysterious vision of her plane crashing:

“I think you might have a gift—a very small gift—for glimpsing the future.”

Cloudy hadn’t paid much attention then, but now she was beginning to wonder. Had Jacob been right? Was she psychic? Or was she merely conjuring up silly stories in her mind because of what she thought and talked about?

Jacob’s quiet voice again echoed in her mind:

“Perhaps the Good Lord has bestowed this gift on you.”

Cloudy wasn’t so sure she liked her gift. If she would have to foresee terrible happenings to her friends and family, she didn’t want such a gift, rare and special though it might be. She would almost rather be a normal individual without any worries than be a special psychic Star Warrior with burdens she was forced to drag around day in and day out.

I don’t think Jacob would agree with my thoughts, Cloudy sighed. But I can’t help it. I don’t want to have to know what’s going to happen in the future lest I worry about it all the time. Why couldn’t I have been born a normal husky with a carefree, unburdened lifestyle, not a psychic kid who’s constantly having to wage war on all her enemies because she’s their primary target?

To her surprise, Springtime’s gentle tone crept into her head:

“God gave you this beautiful gift, sweetie. Use it for Him. And don’t fret about tomorrow, for God holds it in His hands.”

It was the simple, honest truth. And Cloudy decided to heed it.

 

* * * * *

 

The seventh of March arrived. At first glance, it appeared to be a normal day in Cloudy’s household. The children were eating breakfast, the parents were bustling about, cooking and cleaning. . .It all seemed perfectly natural.

But was it. . .?

 

* * * * *

 

 

“Here comes Liloy, Mommy,” Yodi announced, peering out the parlor window, the pink curtain half-drawn aside.

“Oh, gracious! Again?” Springtime came to Yodi’s side to look. “This is the third day in a row! What’s she so restless for?”

“Maybe she’s bored. It is vacation, after all,” Yodi said. Emmanuel Elementary, Cloudy’s school, had given the children a week off of spring break.

“I guess it is,” Springtime sighed. “With her baby not born yet and her husband still in the hospital, I suppose she’s got no one to talk to.” She let the curtain drop into place again. “Well, invite her in.”

“Whoa, hold up! Meta Knight and Scazzarda are with her!” Yodi exclaimed, yanking back the curtain again. “And they all look as gloomy as a thunderstorm! Wonder what’s up?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” Springtime grimly replied, her face tightening. She strode to the front door and had it open even before Scazzarda’s finger touched the doorbell. She invited the threesome in and shut the door.

“What’s going on?” Showerstorm asked, walking sedately down the stairs, but an undercurrent of concern laced his voice.

“Didn’t you get my text, Springtime?” Scazzarda flatly responded.

A look of amazement and surprise flashed across Springtime’s face. “Why, no!” She hesitated a moment, then asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Tilry’s dying,” was the brief response.

Springtime’s mouth flew open and she stumbled against the coffee table, upsetting Sniper’s cider and splashing the contents of the cup to the floor. Showerstorm rescued the cup before it crashed to the floor and helped his wife stand upright.

After the shock of the moment had subsided a little, Springtime questioned in a quivering voice, “When did such a thing happen? I thought he was—getting better. Didn’t the doctors say so themselves?”

“Yes, but he had a relapse. They don’t know what went wrong, but he’s dying. The doctors say he’s fading rapidly. They’re giving him only a few hours to live.”

At those words, Liloy burst into sobs, shielding her face from view with her hands. Meta Knight grasped her hand in a comforting motion, his shoulders slumped with grief.

“Good morning, everyone!” Cloudy called as she bounded downstairs and into the parlor, stopping short at the grave scene in front of her. She stared in turn at each solemn face and queried, “What in blazes is going on here?”

Springtime cleared her throat and spoke to her youngest child very gently. “This may come as a great shock to you, honey, but Tilry—he’s dying.”

Cloudy’s eyes widened and she took a step back. Her thoughts of ESP and psychic powers flashed back into her mind, as well as Meta Knight’s conversation the night before. “What?! What do you mean, he’s dying?! He-He can’t be dying! He was doing just fine before! What went wrong?”

“From what I gathered, he had a relapse,” Springtime said softly. “I’m so sorry this had to happen.”

“Well, don’t be,” Cloudy spoke bitterly. “Because no amount of pity or sympathy will ever change Tilry’s situation.” She turned away.

Scazzarda put an arm around Liloy’s shoulder. “I brought her here because I wanted her to stay with you,” she construed, “but she insists on coming with us to the hospital. I’m not sure she should, though. . .”

“Why shouldn’t she?” broke in Showerstorm. “Isn’t Tilry her spouse?”

“Yes, but. . .” Scazzarda faltered.

“Then she should go,” Springtime said firmly. “Her place is with her husband.”

“I will stay here,” Meta Knight said quietly.

Cloudy gaped at him. “You can’t!” she blurted. “What about Tilry? Don’t you want to be with him?”

“Cloudburst, I’ll thank you to be quiet this instant!” Springtime sternly reprimanded her daughter. “Watch your tongue!”

“Watch my tongue?!” Cloudy shrieked. “I didn’t say anything wrong! It’s better for him to go and be with Tilry, is all I said!”

“He doesn’t have to!” Springtime reminded her.

“Yes, he does!” Cloudy cried. “He needs to! It’s necessary! It’s vital!”

“Why?!” Springtime thundered.

“Tilry’s his son-in-law! They’re very close!” Cloudy exclaimed. “Besides, this could be his last chance to see Tilry before he’s put in the ground!” The moment the foreboding words left her mouth, she was sorry. She felt miserable when she saw the knight’s head drop and his cape came up to cover his face.

“Magnus, don’t feel like you’re obligated to go,” Scazzarda quickly told her son. “You can remain if you wish. Liloy and I will go instead.”

Meta Knight shook his head. “I want to go,” he managed. “I want to see him.” He drew in a shaky breath. “I have to.”

Scazzarda cast a despairing look at Springtime, but the husky shook her head ever so slightly. “Let him go,” she mouthed.

Scazzarda sighed and gave in. “All right. Come along then, Magnus and Liloy.”

“Wait!” Cloudy cried. All eyes turned to her as she asked Springtime, “Can I go, Mommy?”

Springtime and Showerstorm exchanged insightful looks, and he nodded. She nodded too and turned back to Cloudy. “Yes, you may. But listen to your elders and be polite.”

“I will. Thank you, Mommy.” Cloudy kissed her mother and slipped out the door with her three companions.

 

* * * * *

 

The four friends escaladed into Scazzarda’s car, which was parked on the side of the road, and she drove them to Oromo Thuli Hospital. She found an empty parking space, halted there, and ordered everyone out of the car. “Let’s go,” she told them.

Cloudy followed them up the slender steps and into the red-brick building. She gazed at the aquarium that sat in the corner of the waiting room, listlessly counting the fish and other various sea creatures. She was so absorbed in this activity that Scazzarda had to call her name four times before she finally heard.

All four stepped into the elevator and rode to the fourth floor, Cloudy enjoying the ascent as usual. Her throes of hardship and her despondent thoughts of Tilry rushed back to her as they stepped out of the car and slowly toured down the cool, white hallway before they found Tilry’s room—Room 416. Scazzarda reached out her hand and tapped on the wooden door. To her astoundment, it was opened by a nurse dressed in white.

“Yes?” the nurse quizzed, staring at them with staid blue eyes. “Who are you?”

“I’m Scazzarda Stellarum. These are my son and his daughter, Liloy, who is the wife of this room’s occupant. And this is our tagalong, Cloudy. We’ve come to see Tilry. It’s a substantial matter.”

The nurse glanced at each of them in turn, her face expressionless. There was a long silence. Finally the nurse sighed and said, “Come on in. He’s waiting for you.”

He’s waiting for you? Cloudy repeated to herself. Oh, that sounds really nice. Not scary at all. Badly frightened but still determined to see Tilry, she marched confidently into the room, her head held high. Her friends followed.

Scazzarda closed the door and leaned against it, folding her arms across her chest. Meta Knight pulled up a chair next to Tilry’s bedside and sat down in it while Liloy walked to the other side of the bed. There was no sound minus the sporadic beeping of the heart monitor and the quiet loquaciousness of surgeons out in the hallway.

Cloudy leaped lightly onto the mattress and gingerly sat down. When her eyes landed on Tilry’s face, a scare went through her. Never had she seen him so pale or felt him so cold. Never had she heard his breathing so raspy and unsteady. It was dreadful to listen to. She found herself shrinking as far back from him as she possibly could, her ears lying flat on her head. Tilry didn’t stir. His eyes were closed.

“Cloudy!” Liloy hissed, gently tapping the child’s back. Cloudy jumped and emanated a startled yelp. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Liloy whispered more calmly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Cloudy whispered, feeling more at ease. They both glanced sanguinely at Tilry, hoping somehow he would speak to them or even move. But he did none of those things. He remained lying there, his eyes shut. His breathing was still irregular. His color was still poor.

“What are we going to do if he just—dies without ever waking up?” Cloudy asked. She gasped as she spoke those words. It was not inconceivable; it could happen. But Cloudy didn’t want such a thing to result. Tilry had to speak to those he loved one last time before he passed to the next life he was to enter. But what if he never woke? What if they never heard his voice again? What if he went without ever knowing they were there by his bedside, waiting, willing him to wake? One terrifying possibility after another swirled through Cloudy’s head like desert eddies, each darker than the last.

Meta Knight buried his face in his hands, feeling just as terrified as Cloudy and Liloy. His thoughts were fuzzy; his body felt numb. This couldn’t be happening. Maybe it was just a bad dream from which he would soon wake up. But deep down, he knew it was all a lie. Tilry was dying and there was nothing anybody could do about it. Through his grief, he felt a hand touch his shoulder. It was his dear mother, come to comfort him. Scazzarda looked knowingly at Tilry and then pointedly at her son. She knew what was bothering every person in the room, for the same was aggravating her as well.

There was a soft movement from the bed. A stifled gasp emitted from Cloudy and Liloy softly exclaimed, “Tilry! He’s waking up!”

Meta Knight raised his head from his hands and gazed at his son-in-law. Tilry stirred, opened his eyes, and slowly the room came into focus. He stared at his wife, Meta Knight, Scazzarda, and Cloudy, and deep bewilderment glowed upon his features. “What are you. . .all doing here?” he asked, speaking with great difficulty due to his aberrant breathing.

“We came to say goodbye,” Liloy said softly, tears springing to her eyes. Still she pressed on. “We wanted to see you off on your journey to the other side.”

“What are. . .you talking. . .about?” Tilry asked, shaking his head, confused.

“You’re dying!” Meta Knight burst out. Liloy stared at him, shocked, and he hastily looked down at the floor.

“I’m. . .dying?” Tilry repeated. He struggled for another intake of breath. “What do. . .you mean?”

“He means you’re going to die,” Cloudy explained, moving closer to the sick man. “You had a relapse and now you’re not going to make it. The doctors said so.” She heaved a poignant sigh of dolefulness. “We wanted to say farewell, seeing as we now know you’ll never make it through another day. You have only hours left on this earth.”

Tilry managed a weak smile. Yet in that weakness, Cloudy saw, he possessed an unusual strength. The darkness was closing in, but she knew he was not afraid to die. “Don’t,” he rasped. “Don’t say goodbye. . .to me. I’m only. . .going home. I’m not. . .dying. I won’t be dead. . .when I arrive. . .at my Father’s house.” His head lolled to the side and he glanced up at Liloy. “My little wife,” he murmured, feebly stretching out his hand and taking hers. “Take care. . .of our baby. Promise. . .you will.”

Liloy covered her mouth, tears spilling down her face. But even through her heartache, she rustled up a smile. “I promise,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Father,” Tilry said softly. He turned to look at the soldier. “Be. . .brave no matter what. . .like your friend. . .Cloudy. Guard her. . .carefully. . .and take care of. . .Liloy. Have faith. . .and everything. . .will be just. . .fine.” His fragile hand clenched the soldier’s hale one.

Meta Knight couldn’t say a word. Tears stole out of his eyes, running down his face, though no one could see. Tilry seemed to understand the knight’s plight and weakly squeezed the latter’s hand. Tilry then turned to Scazzarda, who watched the scene with glistening eyes, shameless tears streaming down her face. “Scazzarda. . .watch over my wife. . .and child. Don’t let. . .anyone. . .harm them. I love you.”

“I’ll protect them, don’t you worry there,” Scazzarda bravely responded, wiping her eyes, trying to smile.

Cloudy watched each of these morose scenes, a wistful smile loitering on her lips. The smile was suddenly replaced by stunned surprise when Tilry at last turned to her. “Child. . .be aware of those. . .who seek. . .your life. Be kind to those. . .who. . .wrong you. You are strong. . .and brave. You can do. . .the impossible. . .if you put your. . .mind to it. No matter what. . .follow Him. Follow. . .” He couldn’t continue, his breathing getting hoarser and more unsteady by the second. His skin was anemic, he was shivering, and he looked so frail supine. Cloudy was getting panicky just watching him. Then abruptly, Tilry’s breathing stopped and his body went limp.

There was a profound stillness, more reticent than Cloudy had ever heard in her life. Meta Knight released his son-in-law’s hand, entombed his face in his cape, and began sobbing faintly. Liloy covered her eyes with one hand and bent her head in solemn respect. Scazzarda turned away from Tilry, struggling to regain control of her emotions. Just then, the nurse entered the room. She took one look at the patient lying motionless on the bed and gently asked Scazzarda, “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

Scazzarda didn’t trust herself to speak. She just nodded.

The nurse breathed a sigh of remorse. “I’m so, so sorry,” was all she could say. “You’ll want to bury him, won’t you?”

Scazzarda didn’t reply, so Liloy answered. “Yes, we will.”

“I’ll cover the cost for the funeral, as well as the bills,” the nurse answered.

“You don’t have to do that,” Liloy argued.

“Yes, I do,” the nurse said. She sat on the upholstered chair by the door and spread out her hands on her lap. “It’s the least I can do for Tilry’s kindness.”

“What do you mean?” Liloy asked, staring at the woman, This was the first she had heard of Tilry’s kindness to a random nurse.

The nurse shrugged. “I lost my husband a few weeks ago. Tilry must have heard about it from some of my coworkers, because he often arranged for meals to be sent to my home. He also sent me a Bible. He was so sweet to me. Sometimes when I was off-duty, he and I talked together about God’s love and kindness and how those who mourned were blessed. He told me he wanted me to know someone still cared for me.” She stood up. “I want to return the favor. He made me feel less alone, so I want to do the same for his family.”

Unexpectedly, the sun was gone. There was a sudden flash of lightning, following by a crack of thunder. Great torrents of rain lashed mercilessly against the window. The wind furiously whipped small banners and flags about and stripped small leaves off the oak trees.

The nurse slowly stood to her feet and walked to the window. “Why, I can’t understand it,” she murmured to herself. “It was so bright and cheerful a few minutes ago. Now it’s so dreary and bleak. I can’t understand it.”

Scazzarda fought back tears as she swiftly whirled and walked over to the bedside. She laid her hand on her son’s shoulder as he cowered small, wrapped in his navy cape, his shoulders trembling. Liloy gazed dismally upon the dead body of her husband as the nurse continued to look out at the wild thunderstorm ravaging Spring Breeze.

Scazzarda raised her head and focused her tear-filled eyes on Cloudy’s inert figure, but Cloudy didn’t even glance back at her. Her gaze was fixed on the window; she stared listlessly at the black skies as they opened up and poured down huge, satiny sheets of rain. But Scazzarda noted the faraway look in Cloudy’s eyes. It wasn’t a despairing, or lugubrious, or even an antagonized look.

It was a look that spelled simply two words—no hope.

And that was by far one of the scariest emotions ever to retain.

Hopelessness.