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Book 4: Every Life is Beautiful

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Chapter Seven: Final Chance

 

Cloudy slowly rose from the hard, cold linoleum floor, her head throbbing from the blow of Liloy’s fist. Meta Knight, rooted to the spot, stood staring dumbfoundedly at the front door, his eyes glowing a fiery orange. Cloudy struggled to her feet, wobbling a little, and only then did the soldier seem to shake himself free from his trance. “Cloudburst! Are you all right?” he inquired.

“I’m fine, but Liloy. . .” The child stared up at him with wide, frightened eyes. “Is she really going to follow through with what she said?”

Meta Knight couldn’t answer her; he didn’t know himself. “She always told me,” he said, “that she believed every life was sacred and beautiful beyond what words can describe. So I don’t understand her reasoning. . . .” He sighed and placed a hand to his head. “Why would she listen to her friend’s evil words? Why?

Cloudy spoke in a slow monotone. “Sometimes grief and unresolved trauma can drown out good advice and morals, Meta Knight. Perhaps that’s Liloy’s issue.”

Meta Knight sighed. “I do not know how to get her to listen to reason,” he admitted.

Cloudy’s eyes sparkled with a strange glint. Meta Knight recognized that look. “I believe God will rescue her just in time,” she declared.

His eyes grew wide as he searched her determined face, but he did not speak.

 

* * * * *

 

That evening, Cloudy picked at her food and vaguely listened in a fog of distraction to the conversation her parents were having about what to do for their children’s upcoming birthday. Cloudy wasn’t at the dinner table; she was miles away at a cabin in Whispy Woods, her brain fixated on Liloy and her problems. She tried desperately to think of ideas of what to do for Liloy and how to get her to snap out of her depressing thoughts, out of the ominous darkness that threatened to swallow her whole.

“Cloudy, what do you think?” Springtime asked.

Cloudy snapped out of her reverie and stared at her mother. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. What did you say?”

“I asked, what do you think would be better for the party? To have a chocolate cake or a strawberry one?”

“Even a carrot cake would work,” Showerstorm added.

Springtime puckered her lips and made a face. “Eew, I hate carrot cake. That’s for the rabbits!”

“What do you mean?” Showerstorm playfully demanded. “Carrot cake is the best kind of cake there is!”

“According to your standards,” Springtime joked.

Cloudy wasn’t in the mood for kidding around. “I don’t know. Anything will work; I don’t care what kind you make. I’m not picky,” she responded, her patience with her parents thinning rapidly.

Springtime and Showerstorm traded glances. “Honey, is something aggravating you?” she inquired. “You’re sort of snappy tonight.”

Cloudy knew talking about Liloy’s daunting plan wouldn’t collaborate well with the merry mood at the dinner table. “I’ll tell you about it after supper,” she whispered quietly in their general direction.

Springtime nodded in understanding.

 

* * * * *

 

“Liloy’s going to do what?” Springtime cried.

Cloudy and her parents were sitting on the sofa after supper, discussing what Cloudy had been so distracted by. Cloudy had tried to explain Liloy’s plan in the most discreet way possible, but judging from her mother’s horrified look and her father’s stern one, she began to wonder if her explanation had been as discreet as she had tried to make it.

“Liloy’s going to try to end her pregnancy,” Cloudy repeated.

“Why on earth?” Springtime gasped.

“I don’t know,” Cloudy said, her head sinking. “Maybe she’s too deep in her emotional stress and overwhelmed by her trauma to care much about anyone else’s opinions. Heck, she won’t even listen to her own father’s advice.”

“That’s not good,” Showerstorm said grimly. “Have you tried talking to her?”

“Yes, I did, and her response was to knock me over the head!” Cloudy gingerly reached her paw up and touched the bump on her head, wincing a little as she did so.

“Oh, dear. I’m afraid she’s too beyond hope,” Springtime said regretfully.

Cloudy was shocked. How could her mother talk that way! Didn’t she know no one was too far out of reach for God to save? “No, she isn’t!” she angrily objected. “I believe God will save her and her baby just in time! I believe that!”

Springtime took a deep breath and slowly released the air in her lungs.. “I know, dear. And. . .I’m sorry. I guess. . .I wasn’t thinking clearly. You’re right. No one is too far gone for God to reach out His hand to.”

“But what can we do to change her mind?” Showerstorm puzzled. “I mean, I suppose we could talk to her, but what difference would that make? If she won’t listen to Meta Knight, or even to our daughter, then why would she listen to us?”

“We are older than she is and have more life experience,” Springtime reminded her husband. “Perhaps she’d take our wisdom and apply it to her situation.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Showerstorm agreed, silently praising his wife for her integrity. “We’ll talk to her later tonight and let you know what she says, Cloudy.”

Cloudy nodded wordlessly, but deep down, she wondered if her parent’s effort would make any difference. Then her mind went to the baby birds―still so small and weak. They were barely growing or breathing, and even their food dish was full half the time. Cloudy darkly thought, Maybe this is a forewarning―Liloy’s baby will die, and the birds will perish. Not one of them will live to even see the sun.

 

* * * * *

 

Later that evening, Springtime and Showerstorm were tromping through Whispy Woods, searching for Liloy’s cabin. Eventually, they found it and plodded up the walkway. Then they climbed the steps of Liloy’s now-sold home and Springtime knocked on the door. There was no answer for a long time. The two spouses waited reluctantly on the doorstep, wondering if Liloy was even home or if she had gone away.

After a time, the door opened, and there stood Liloy. Her eyes were red and her face was drawn, but she worked up a tentative smile and said cheerfully, “Well, if it isn’t Springtime and Showerstorm! Won’t you come inside?”

Husband and wife took advantage of the invitation and waltzed inside. Springtime stared round at the bare bedrooms and desolate kitchen, wondering where Liloy slept at night and what she ate. Showerstorm, not wishing to be rude, seated himself on the wooden floorboards of the dining room and said in a mature tone, “Liloy, we have come to discuss something with you―something I know needs to be addressed.”

Liloy held up her hand. “If this is about me and my baby, forget it,” she said abruptly. Springtime was astounded that Liloy would be so rude! “I’ve already decided on my course of action, and nothing you two or anyone else says will change my mind. End of story.” She gestured toward the front door. “Now if that is all, I must ask you to leave. I have to finish packing so I can get to my new home tomorrow.”

Showerstorm was so startled by Liloy’s brusque declaration that he sat frozen to the spot. But then suddenly, he could move again. “Liloy, I’m not going to let you do such a terrible thing to your child!” he said roughly. “God tells us that murder is wrong! Don’t you know that? Or do you just not care?”

“I have already discussed this with Father,” Liloy said coldly. “I do not want to hear anything you have to say. I will do only what is best for my child.”

“But. . .But. . .” Springtime sputtered, seeing red, “you’re not doing what’s best for your child!”

“I said I do not want to hear this!” Liloy shouted, her face twisting with furious rage. Her eyes were flaming, her fists seemed ready to fly. Showerstorm and Springtime, their hearts pounding, edged toward the door, Liloy flailing them with her tongue. “Get out now! Get out of my house and do not ever come back!” As soon as they were on the doorstep, she slammed the door shut with a deafening bang. Springtime heard the lock click as the bolt slid into place.

Husband and wife remained on the porch for the longest time, staring at the door, wondering what in the world had gone wrong.

 

* * * * *

 

“So how did it go?” Cloudy asked as soon as her parents stepped into the house.

“It hardly went at all,” Springtime said miserably. “Liloy became furious when we tried to talk to her about her baby, and she yelled at us, ordering us out of the house. Then she slammed the door on us.” She shook her head bewilderingly. “I don’t understand. She’s never acted so rash and angry before—Lilith must have really influenced her!”

“Ohh, is there nothing we can do?” Cloudy exclaimed, stamping her foot. Springtime thought those words sounded a little familiar. “We can’t just stand around here and do nothing! A life is on the line!”

“Cloudy, I tried and tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen!” Showerstorm finally burst out. “There’s nothing we can do! It’s all up to the Lord now! You must understand that!”

Cloudy shrank back, the room going completely silent at her father’s frustrated outburst. The frogs croaked outside, a peaceful contrast to the tension inside the home. Cloudy stared at each of her parents in turn, thinking, Is there no way out of this horrible nightmare?

 

* * * * *

 

Scazzarda frowned at the text Springtime had sent her during the night. It said plainly, “Liloy’s about to follow through with a disastrous decision involving her baby and she needs to be stopped. She wouldn’t listen to her father, Cloudy, or us, so you’re our only option now, Scazzarda. We need your help.”

Of course I’ll help, Scazzarda thought, a rush of energy flowing through her as she jumped out of bed and began to get dressed. I’ll do whatever it takes to save my precious great-grandchild.

 

* * * * *

 

Scazzarda knocked on Liloy’s door and stepped back, expecting the door to open just as it would have on any other normal day. But it never did. And that was when Scazzarda noticed the boxes that had been gathered on the porch a couple of days ago had vanished. The truth hit her—Liloy must have already left for Mount Moonstem. It was too far away for walking; she’d have to get there by car.

Scazzarda’s face was decidedly steely as she marched through the woods, back to her house, to get her car.

 

* * * * *

 

“Cabin 204,” Scazzarda muttered to herself as she climbed out of her car and walked up the steep incline. “That’s her new address, Magnus said.” She paraded between rows and rows of cabins, mouthing their numbers, “Cabin 201, 202, 203. . .” And out loud: “Ah! Here we are! Cabin 204!” She knocked on the door and waited.

A few seconds later, Liloy was fondly, calmly greeting her grandmother, a stark contrast to the shrieking, furious girl from the night before. Scazzarda couldn’t understand her granddaughter’s shifting attitude as the young woman invited her into the cabin and bade her please be seated on a small velvet sofa, which had belonged to Tilry’s father.

“So what are you here for, Grandmother?” Liloy politely asked. “What’s going on back home?”

Scazzarda knew she had to speak out. Now was the time. “Everyone is just fine, dear, but they’re worried about you,” she calmly said. “See, Springtime alerted me last night about what happened between you and she and her husband, and well, I just came out here to. . .” She broke off as she noticed Liloy staring at the wall, a faraway expression in her sad eyes.

“So they sent you to try to talk me into changing my mind, huh?” Liloy said.

Scazzarda sighed, knowing she couldn’t hide the truth. “Yes,” she confessed.

“I see,” Liloy calmly responded.

Scazzarda rushed to her next words. “Listen, Liloy. I know you’re going through a lot, but you cannot just give up on yourself and your baby. Life is a very precious gift, Liloy, and we only have it a short time. We should live it to honor God and show His glory to all. To murder someone is to mount an attack on the One Who created and breathed life into that special person.
“There are lots of Bible verses that tell us murder is wrong. Psalm 139:13 tells us, “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.”  That tells us that every life is created for a purpose. Everyone has intrinsic value and dignity that God created them with. Another verse is Jeremiah 1:5, which says, “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, before you were born, I set you apart.” This verse underscores the true fact that God has valued life from its very inception, and He has affirmed its sanctity.”

Liloy didn’t answer. Her eyes were now riveted on the floor.

“What I am saying is that you cannot do this to your child,” Scazzarda spoke gently, placing her firm hand over Liloy’s gentle one. “God gave you this baby for a reason, Liloy. He chose you to be the mother of this special life.”

Liloy stood up, drawing her hand away from Scazzarda’s. “Grandmother. . .I have to tell you about something I did,” she said quietly. “Last night, after Springtime and Showerstrom had left. . .I scheduled an appointment.” She didn’t need to say anything else; the horrified look coming into Scazzarda’s eyes told her that Scazzarda knew what she was talking about.

“Why, Liloy?” Scazzarda simply asked. She didn’t yell or get mad, but simply spoke in a soft tone. “Why?”

“I lost myself last night,” Liloy admitted. She covered her eyes with one hand. “Grandmother, I know you and many others are trying to help, but I have to do what’s best for my child. I have to do this.” She hesitated, then went on, “I know God’s laws are moral and upright, but I have to make an exception. I truly believe I have to go against my beliefs this time.”

Liloy, you don’t know what you’re saying. “When do you go?” Scazzarda braced herself for the answer.

The reply was horrific. “March 22.”

Liloy sank onto the couch and began to cry silently as Scazzarda stood up and left the cabin, tears streaming down her face as she glanced back at the snow-draped mountains. Then she got into her car, started the ignition, and drove away, never once looking back.

Writing prompts

My Place to Live

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If I could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

 

Okay, so I’m going to put a little twist on this, everyone. Does this prompt mean the “real world” we all live in, or the fictitious world you’ve conjured up in your mind? I’m going to answer the questions to both parts.

 

  1. The real world – It would have to be down in Cape Town, South Africa. The prettiest beaches are there, and it’s so clean! My mom says she’d love to go there someday.
  2. My world – Lol, this has got to be Cappy Town. I think it would be full of an awful lot of adventure, responsibility, and integrity!

 

So there you have it. . .my ideal place(s) to live.

God bless.

Kirby of the Stars Stories

Down

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The stars in the sky shimmered as the fireflies flickered and darted back and forth among the crowd of onlookers at the July 4th party being held in the Cappy Town square. But amidst the laughter and cheery chatter from the Cappies, there was a hint of discomfort and unease. Though they were now freed from Nightmare, thanks to the Halberd crowd, some felt a strange darkness still lay over their peaceful land.

Unfortunately. . .

. . .they were more right than they knew.

~   ~   ~

On the outskirts of the town, nestled on a little house, was a large castle. A young woman with bright blond hair pulled back in a bun stood on her balcony, her thoughtful emerald-colored eyes as bright as the fireworks exploding in the sky. It was Tiffany Ebrum, now a beautiful woman of eighteen with two children and a wonderful husband. She recalled how when she was younger, at one interval, on New Year’s Eve, fireworks had been popping just like they were now. She, as a twelve-year-old child who loved marine biology and reading, had been standing beside her friend, Meta Knight, as Kirby battled Sasuke, a monster sent by Dedede to wreck the Cappies’ New Year’s party. The dark conversation that had taken place between her and the soldier still remained in her mind and made her frown:

“Meta Knight, what are you doing here?”

“I came to wish Kirby a Happy New Year. . .if he makes it to the New Year.”

Dark humor, Tiff repeated silently, replaying those two words over and over in her mind. Actually, Meta Knight wasn’t the only one to make use of deadpan delivery. Starmonia often used it too, in her everyday speeches, usually in response to Dedede’s insults or Escargoon’s teasing.

And tonight might play out the same way as it did on New Year’s many years ago, Tiff thought dryly, just not quite in the same way.

~   ~   ~

The fireworks burst into showers in the sky should have given everyone a sense of independence and happiness, but it only made the atmosphere melancholy. Mayor Len’s eyes traveled to the castle, to King Dedede’s bedroom. It was impossible to believe the king was dead, gone from cancer; it would be a long time before anyone would recover from his untimely demise that occurred last Christmas. Escargoon, the king’s sidekick, was later revealed to have given the king a strange drug sent from Night Mare Enterprises that killed him, slowly but painfully. Mayor Len remembered the many visits Dr. Yabui had made to the castle; the sleepless nights Tiff and her family had spent watching over the king; the many seizures and breathless nights he had endured alone; Meta Knight and his subordinates standing silently together, talking in low voices; the fear of death that overshadowed everyone in Cappy Town.

Hana seemed to sense her husband’s thoughts and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Dear, I know you miss the king,” se said in her soft voice. “We all do. But we tried our best to save him. And even if it didn’t work, we can rest in the fact that we tried our hardest to help him.”

“It was all Escargoon’s fault, anyway,” Chief Bookem grumbled. “Man, was I glad to run that slimy creep out of town!”

“I can’t believe he actually murdered our king!” Kawasaki chimed in.

“Do not condemn Escargoon,” Hana spoke firmly but quietly. “What right have we to cast the first stone?”

The others silently respected Hana’s judgment.

~   ~   ~

Standing in the castle courtyard, unwilling to join the in the Fourth of July fun, Meta Knight and his subordinates talked by the fountain. It felt too much like the days when Dedede was ill and needed constant attention. It seemed to the knights they could still see Dedede lying in bed, his face pale; Escargoon’s leering expression and the mask of sorrow he placed on whenever he walked into Dedede’s room. The anger they felt when Chief Bookem declared Escargoon the murderer of the king still roiled in their minds.

“The world will never be the same without our king,” Sword Knight declared in a mournful tone.

“Then again,” came a familiar youthful voice from behind some blackberry bushes, “all of us have our death receipts. When our time expires, so does our life.” The speaker was little Ivene, who, though so small, spoke mountains of wisdom. She stepped out from behind the thorny leaves and spoke. “Hurry, the night is drawing to a close. July 4th only comes once a year. Sometimes the best thing to take your mind off a difficult situation is to have fun.”

“Child, you must understand that such a suggestion is not for everyone who has gone through something traumatic,” Sword explained. “We are still suffering from the king’s death.”

“As am I,” Ivene said, her brown eyes clear in the starlight. The rush of fountain water seemed to back her words as it peacefully bubbled into its marble basin. “But death is just the doorway to eternal life, God says. Dedede knows and he accepted the truth at the end. So let’s be grateful, my friends.” And with that, she was off, disappearing into the warm night.

“Aye, p’haps she’s right,” Blade said. Sword agreed, glancing at Meta Knight, who nodded a little.

~   ~   ~

“You look very distant,” came a voice from behind Meta Knight.

Meta Knight turned in surprise to face Tiff, holding her one-year-old daughter, Pamela, fondly nicknamed Pamu. “I am all right,” he assured her, but his trembling voice betrayed his words.

Tiff stared at him with those same green eyes that had always pierced at his soul. He recalled all too well, when she was a child, when he had been in pain or was going through a hard time. . .if he had lied to her about how he was feeling, she would stare at him wit the look that spoke plainer than any words, “You’re lying. I know what you are saying is not true.”

Though she was not a little girl any longer, those eyes still nagged at him, tugged at his conscience. He looked up to the sky as another firework whistled, its pitch getting higher and higher, until it finally exploded. It seemed to him that was how he felt. One moment he would be soaring higher and higher into the sky of delight and peace, and then his dreams would expire, explode, leaving nothing behind by smoke and particles of what he had once dreamed of.

Tiff walked up to him, shifting her child to her other arm, and she reached out and grasped his hand in a quiet, “I’m here” motion. The touch wasn’t much, but it sparked something in him he hadn’t felt in a while. . .the feeling of knowing someone was always there, always caring, even if he didn’t know it. He turned and hugged her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder as she knelt down and embraced him gently. A light gust of wind swirled past, ruffling Tiff’s dress and rustling the soldier’s cape.

“You’re not alone,” she told him at last. “We all miss Dedede, but we all rejoice knowing he’s okay.”

Meta Knight looked full into her face and smiled at her, though she could not see it. She smiled back, almost as if she knew how he felt. Even little Pamu seemed to sense the joy of the moment and gurgled, “Happy!”

Both laughed and then stood up to go down and watch the rest of the fireworks show.

~   ~   ~

By the time the threesome reached the square, most of the fireworks had already been shot off. But the biggest display was yet to come, as Tiff knew from previous Independence Days. As she and Meta Knight stepped toward the middle of the square, hanging back from the huge firework which Buttercup, Chief Bookem’s wife, was to set off, little Ivene grinned widely, leaped onto the statue of Dedede which had been erected in his memory, and paraded along the base of the throne’s armrest, singing:

“Sometimes it’s hard to see what is in front of me
I need a hand to pull me from the shadows
No shackles on my feet, they’re just a memory
I need Your strength to rise above the shallows.”

The Cappies lifted their voices and began to sing with her.

“I’ve walked through fire and weathered pain
Felt emotion like a hurricane
There’s gotta be a better way
Hear me when I say. . .”

Tiff and her husband, Lemu, joined in with their friends. Meta Knight remained silent, watching the happy crowd.

“I was a wreck
Oh, I was shattered and bruised
Then You tore down the dark
And Your love broke through
Down on my knees
‘Cause I couldn’t be found
Now I’m filled with Your peace
As Your love comes down
Down, down, down, down, down
Down, down, down, down, down.”

Then Lemu sang solo.

“I was a broken man living in a broken land
Then You arrived, a love worthy to follow
I could’ve stayed in pain forever and a day
Then just in time, You filled up what was hollow.”

Meta Knight furrowed his brow. That sounded too much like what he had been like before God had come along and rescued him. The thought brought a smile to his lips.

“I’ve walked through fire and weathered pain
Oh, like a hurricane!

I was a wreck
Oh, I was shattered and bruised
Then You tore down the dark
And Your love broke through
Down on my knees
‘Cause I couldn’t be found
Now I’m filled with Your peace
As Your love comes down
Down, down, down, down, down
As Your love comes down
Down, down, down, down, down.”

“Let’s all sing together!” Ivene cried happily.

“I was a wreck
Oh, I was shattered and bruised
Then You tore down the dark
And Your love broke through
Down on my knees
‘Cause I couldn’t be found
Now I’m filled with Your peace
As Your love comes down!”

Meta Knight couldn’t contain himself anymore. As Buttercup struck the match and lit the fuse, he knew he had to sing and celebrate. A wave of overwhelming happiness struck him head over heels and he lifted up his voice to sing with his friends and family.

“I was a wreck
Oh, I was shattered and bruised
Then You tore down the dark
And Your love broke through
Down on my knees
‘Cause I couldn’t be found
Now I’m filled with Your peace
As Your love comes down
Down, down, down, down, down
As Your love comes down
Down, down, down, down, down!
As Your love comes
Your love comes down!”

As the huge firework exploded in a blend of red, blue, and white, everyone strongly finished out the song together:

“Down, down, down, down, down!”

“Happy Independence Day!” Ivene howled, leaping and jumping about with enthusiasm. And then Meta Knight, Tiff, and her family shared a beautiful embrace as the fireworks continued to pop around them, illuminating the warm night.

 

_     _     _

 

The song “Down” was written by Colton Dixon, Ben Glover, and Kyle Lee. All credit goes to them.

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.