Preparing for Glory 1

As promised, here is the first part of Preparing for Glory (I have a lot of catching up to do on this nearly half-over month).

Chapter 1

            The night was clear, and the light from the silver moon cast the forest into a fairy dream.  The shadows from the gilded trees stretched into the darkness, and mist drifted just above the ground.  But the beauty was lost on the drunkard.  He stumbled along the dirt road—one of the only unpaved roads left on the planet—his empty beer bottle dangling from his fingertips.  The bottle’s brown glass reflected the moonlight, a glinting light in the darkness.

            Something crackled under the drunkard’s feet.  He squinted and spotted a paper flyer under his right sneaker.  Teetering unsteadily, he bent down and picked it up.  After several long seconds he realized it was an advertisement for a travelling circus performing in the next village.  Grunting, the man pushed the paper into his pocket and continued on his way.

            A flickering golden light off somewhere in the woods made the man pause.  He shuffled, turning to face the light, and opened his eyes wide in an effort to bring his blurred vision into focus.  The light wavered and dimmed, and a part of the man’s hazy mind wanted to find the source of the light before it disappeared.  Another part told him to ignore the light and continue on, but his curiosity grew the better of him and the man stepped into the trees.

            Branches clutched at the man’s clothes and snagged his hair, but he pushed on.  The light before him disappeared, and in a fit of frustration the man pushed through a tangle of scrub oak.  He paused then, and his empty beer bottle slipped from his hand and clattered across the ground.

            Ten feet away, separated from the man by a patch of seedy grass, was a creature that could only have existed in myth.  Long, white limbs and a lithe body were shielded partly from view by sleek enormous wings.  The feathers gleamed, though their color was lost in the moonlight.

            The creature raised its feathered head, revealing the face of a beautiful woman.  She stared at the man with large, doe-like eyes, her body trembling from cold or pain.  Finally she spoke, and her musical voice sent shivers down the man’s spine.  The meaning of the words were lost on him, and when she spoke again he shook his head.

            The woman lifted one wing, crying out in pain, and revealed a winged child asleep against her chest.  The woman gathered the child in her arms and struggled to her feet, revealing the tattered gown she wore, stained with blood, her misshapen feet, the long, sinuous tail that swayed behind her.

            The man stepped backwards, but the winged creature staggered forward, pressing the child into his arms.  He tried to push the woman away, but she clung to him, her voice pleading, her clawed hands scratching at his arms.  Finally, the man grabbed the child, just to get that woman away from him.  The child’s eyes fluttered open briefly before closing once more.

            The woman smiled then, and tears glistened in her eyes.  She slumped to the ground, lay down, and was still.

            The man stood frozen until the creature’s labored breathing stopped.  He tried to think, but the alcohol numbed his mind.  The man didn’t want this child—this misshapen angel.  He was so thirsty.

            Groaning, the man bent down to retrieve his bottle—perhaps there were a few drops left.  Something in his pocket crackled.  The paper.  The circus flyer.

            The drunkard licked his lips and held the child close to his chest.  The sleeping child turned towards him in response and cuddled against his warm body.  An idea formed in the drunkard’s hazy mind, and he made his way back to the dirt road with more care than when he’d left it.

            Soon he would have enough money for all the alcohol he desired.

*          *          *

            Josias was tired.  With every day that passed he became more aware of the aches in his back, the pains in his knees, the way his hand trembled when he held a cup.  But nothing compared to the hole in his heart.

            He stood in front of the open kitchen pantry, barely aware of what he was staring at.  Uncooked grits and egg substitute sat on nearly empty shelves.  Josias decided he wasn’t hungry after all.  He closed the door.

            A pleasant ringing filled the air.  Sighing, Josias gave a melancholy, “Hello.”

            A screen on the refrigerator, which usually told Josias that he was out of milk and only had a small handful of grapes and an old head of lettuce by way of fruits and vegetables, winked and changed to show the face of his oldest son Matt.  “Hey, Dad,” said Matthew.  He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his narrow nose.  “How are you?”

            Josias shrugged.  “Same as always.”

            “You holding up?  Still going on your walks?”

            Josias looked away.  He couldn’t lie—not to his own son.  “I haven’t felt much like walking lately.”

            Matt sighed.  “What about your vegetable garden?  Are you doing that this year?”

            “I haven’t decided yet.”

            “Dad,” Matt said, and when Josias looked back at the refrigerator screen Matt’s face was stern.  “As a doctor and as your son, I have to say, stop it!  Mom wouldn’t want you to live like this—shut off from everything you love.  You have a lot of life left to live—you’re only fifty-three.”

            “An old fifty-three.”

            Matt sighed again and ran a hand through his short blond hair.  “Look, I hate seeing you so sad.  Michael’s spring break is in two weeks, and I’ll talk to John and see if we can all come up to visit you—you can pester John about that new girlfriend of his.”

            Josias chuckled softly.  “Yeah, maybe John will be the first one to give me some grandkids.”

            “Yes!” Matt pointed at the screen.  “You just keep thinking of those grandkids you need to love.  I’ll see you in two weeks.  I love you, Dad!”

            “Love you too.”

            The refrigerator screen went blank, then proceeded to inform Josias that he was low on practically every form of food.  Muttering under his breath, Josias turned away.  Matt was right—he shouldn’t stay cooped up in the house all day—but he’d been in a deep depression ever since Larue died.  But if he was going to be around to pester John, he was going to need some food.  A walk to the market would do him good. Grabbing a jacket, Josias headed out the door with a canvas bag draped over his arm.

            Josias’s house was a couple miles outside of town.  He owned a good-sized parcel of land that had been handed down through the family for generations, though most of that land was forest. Many times over the years developers had wanted him to sell it, but he couldn’t part with it.  The land was untouched, virgin, and though there were plenty of forests left on Earth hardly any of it could be considered truly wild. It was all cultivated and carefully controlled to keep the ecosystems in balance—as though nature hadn’t been able to do that for billions of years beforehand.  For that reason alone, Josias felt his land was sacred.  It would remain in his family until the day he died, and hopefully long afterwards.

            The sunlight felt warm on Josias’s face, though it did little to warm his heart.  Still, the farther he walked the more his spirits lifted until he had to admit that Matt was, once again, right.  Then he thought about how often Larue would walk with him hand-in-hand to town, sometimes in a sundress and a wide-brimmed hat and sometimes wearing one of those sleek modern two-piece outfits made for comfort, and his heart crumbled.  How could he live without the woman he loved?

            Right before he entered town the forest ended, giving way to a community park. It was usually an empty field with a couple of baseball diamonds at one end and a playground supervised by robot nannies, but today large colorful tents filled the green, triangular flags fluttering in the morning breeze. An elephant trumpeted somewhere among the tents, and the chittering of monkeys filled the trees on the edge of the forest.

            Three children stood clutching the ropes that cordoned off the area, and the oldest read the words on a sign to his younger siblings, “Come one! Come all! Let your minds be astounded and your hearts amazed at the Spectacular Sterling Brother Circus. Gates open at 6 pm, show starts at 6:30. Carnival open throughout the weekend.”

            The three children talked excitedly to each other and ran home to tell their parents. Josias stared at the sign. He had never heard of the Spectacular Sterling Brothers, but Larue had always loved the circus—especially the acrobats.  Perhaps…perhaps it would do his heart good to go to such a light-hearted affair and think of her.

*          *          *

            Six-fifteen found Josias standing in line to enter the big top, one ticket clutched in his hand.  But when he’d found his seat and the entertainment began, Josias was severely disappointed. The Spectacular Sterling Brothers were not like the circuses he’d gone to in the past. The animals were underfed, and there was no sense of love between them and their trainers. The clowns weren’t funny, and the acrobats were less than ideal. During a short break between acts, Josias slipped out of the tent.

            The sun had gone down, and Josias wandered aimlessly between tents and closed carnival booths.  With the main show performing in the big top, the rest of the circus was deserted.  Signs decorated in old-style script advertised fire dancers, freak shows, and talking beasts.  One sign caught his eye:

            Coming soon: Fallen straight from heaven, view the beautiful Angelica, a vision among mortals.

            The sign featured a painted portrait of a young girl in a white gown kneeling on a pile of white sheets.  Her short golden locks framed her face, and her large blue eyes stared off into heaven. Sapphire wings rose above her shoulders and gracefully sloped down to the floor.  Blue feathers were scattered across the sheets.

            Could the Sterling Brothers really have come across an angelic child, or was some poor girl getting trained to wear satin wings and sail through the air using trick wires? Josias felt the whole circus was a sham. The condition the animals were in was enough to convince him to call the authorities.

            A child’s scream pierced through the night air.  Adrenaline coursed through Josias’s body, and he ran towards the high-pitched shrieks, his older age and depression forgotten.  They were coming from a hastily-constructed wooden shed.  Josias slammed into the plywood door, and it crashed open.

            Three men held down a struggling child while a fourth stood above her wielding a bone saw in one hand. There was a confusion of movement, too many limbs for one small child, and it took a moment for Josias to realize that the child had wings—long, deep-blue wings that flailed and thrashed, knocking over buckets and trays, as the child tried to escape its captors.

            The men didn’t notice Josias standing in the doorway with all the commotion the child was causing.  The man with the bone saw grabbed something that thrashed above the child’s legs, a long white tail with a blue-feathered tuft on the end, and pulled it straight.  He lowered the saw towards the tail, and the child jerked.  The saw scraped against the tail, and a thin red line showed up sharp against the white.
            “Hold her steady!” the saw-wielder snapped.  “Why hasn’t she been given anesthesia?”

            “She has,” one of the other men said. “It’s not working!”

            “Then get the tranks!”

            “You wanna kill her?”

            Josias’s rage over the child’s anguish overflowed. “What are you doing?” he roared.

            The men fell silent and stared at Josias.  Their grip on the child slipped, and it clawed at one of the men.  He yelled, and the child slipped out of their grasps and scrambled to Josias in a flurry of feathers.  The child clutched at Josias’s legs and cried to him in unintelligible words.

            The poor child stared at him with large, pleading eyes.  They were the deepest blue he had ever seen—deeper than the purest gem.  The child was naked, but its body was covered in tiny feathers as soft as chick’s down.  The feathers on the child’s back and the back of its arms were blue, as were the long, graceful feathers on its wings, which trembled as they folded tight against its back. Longer blue feathers flowed down the crown of the child’s head, lying on the child’s head like human hair; they reached almost to the child’s shoulders.  The rest of the feathers were the purest white, except for blue feathers just above the child’s jaw line and a scattering of blue feathers that lay across the child’s cheekbones like freckles.  The only parts of the child’s body that wasn’t feathered were the child’s pale pink lips, the palms of its hands, and its feet, which looked more like a prehistoric raptor’s talons than a human’s feet.  Josias couldn’t tell whether the child was male or female, but he knew one thing: it was a child, and it was on the verge of tears.

            Josias’s heart melted into a soft puddle. He gently knelt down and silently pulled off his jacket, which he placed around the child’s shivering shoulders.  “Don’t worry,” he said softly.  “You’re safe now.”

            “Hey!” one man’s rough voice barked. “What are you doing?  That’s our property!”

            “This is a child,” Josias shot back.  He rose to his feet and met the man’s eyes with an unwavering glare.

            The man sneered and spat to the side.  “It sure aint human.”

            “That doesn’t matter.  This child is obviously sentient and is protected under interplanetary law.”

            “We’ve checked the databases.  There’s nothing like her in the registered species—there’s no way she’s from another planet.  No records, no rights.  And that sentience you’re talking about?  Whatever’s coming out of her mouth is no more of a language than monkey chatter.”

            Every word that left the man’s mouth turned Josias’s stomach.  He spoke in a barely-controlled growl. “There is more value in this child’s life than you could possibly imagine, yet you treat it like trash.”

            “Like I said,” said the man, sauntering up to Josias.  “That’s our property.  We can treat it however we want.”

            The child shrunk away from the man, pushing harder against Josias’s thigh.

            Josias placed one hand on the child’s head.  “Fine.  How much?”

            “What?”  The man blinked.

            “How much did you pay for the child?”

            The man thumbed his nose.  “It’s not about how much we paid.  We can make ten thousand extra in one year alone with her in our show.”

            Though Josias’s hand remained steady on the child’s head, his other clenched into a fist. If he wasn’t careful, these men would clean him out of his life’s savings.  Yet could a top price be placed on so precious a life?  Calculating quickly in his mind, he said, “Then I’ll give you thirteen thousand.”

            The man laughed once and turned towards his friends, as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  He turned back towards Josias.  “Twenty.”

            “Fifteen.  That’s all I can afford.” If you’re not in the database, I will need money to raise you myself, thought Josias.  “Now go get your register.”

            Not believing their good fortune, two of the men bumped their fists one on top of the other in victory and left the shack to grab the register.  When they returned, the man input the data to transfer fifteen thousand dollars to the Spectacular Sterling Brother Circus, and Josias exposed his wrist.  It was quickly scanned, and though Josias was instantly fifteen thousand dollars poorer he felt more alive than he had in months.

            The transaction complete, Josias gently lifted the winged child and cradled it in his arms. The child was surprisingly light—no more than fifteen pounds.  The child leaned its head against his shoulder and clung to his shirt with hands whose fingers were tipped with tiny claws.  Something slithered around Josias’s waist, and he stiffened until he realized it was the child’s tail.  Josias stroked the child’s head feathers with one hand and kissed it on the cheek.  “Don’t worry,” he whispered in its ear.  “I’ll take care of you.”