Stanley Drive

Another silver, summer’s moon had been shedding its hollow light on the world for hours now. It was well past midnight. A warm southern breeze tickled itself through lawn chairs and small maple trees of no natural placement as tacky lawn gnomes stared with empty, frozen eyes from flower gardens that ran the length of most of the houses on the street.

Stanley Drive was a typical street while the sun shone; a street full of children and the scraping sound of bicycle training wheels, but with the setting of the sun, so too did this sugar coating fail to reveal the life that is everywhere that all men see, but few explore; The life that’s left when the smell of freshly cut grass subsides and the burgundy minivan in every driveway, masked by shadow. It is then the silence surfaces.

Dale Gryan sat bare-chested on his porch exploring this life nervously. Hidden from view by the inky shadow of his roof’s overhang, he was revealed only by the occasional, cherry red glow from his cigarette.

Seconds went to minutes, which lead to hours, as Gryan sat and braved the silence that surrounded him. His eyes lazed about his face but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He had far too much to think about. Far too many unwanted thoughts eating at his self. These petty thoughts he hated, but despite himself, entertained every waking hour of his life. Those hours grew longer as time passed and the petty thoughts were his companion. But at least, he thought, at least they were taking his mind off the silence around him.

He crushed the butt of his fifth cigarette and sighed to break the quiet. He listened to the beat of his heart and closed his eyes, drifting through his mind for answers. Any answer at all.

His heartbeat filled his ears and bathed his mind in sound. He enjoyed the break in the silence. Utter silence, he thought was much louder and more piercing than any noise he could conceive. More terrifying. The beating of his heart, that light in his dark tunnel was all there was to break this. But something was wrong. He couldn’t tell what, but something was definitely wrong.

He shifted his thoughts to discover what that something was. He clenched his eyes tighter to ensure total blackness, focusing hard on his heart, and the noise it made. “What is it? What is it?” Thought after Thought.

It could have been a gunshot. It would have affected him no less. He heard a break in his heartbeat and the silence that stabbed at it; a break and a dull scraping noise.

Instinct screamed at him to open his eyes and a surge of emotion took hold of his brain - Confusion, bewilderment, panic - and he could do nothing but obey.

His eyes sprang open as if awakening from his worst nightmare, and with a ripple of gooseflesh over his warm bare chest in the summer’s air he found realization. It wasn’t the beating of his heart he’d been listening too. It was footsteps, and he wasn’t alone.

Frozen but for his wide eyes, red from exhaustion, he sat rigid and frantically searched his field of view for this intrusion. He waited an eternity for his eyes to focus from being held shut for so long and would have screamed at them to hurry had his mouth not gone dryer than his scorched, neglected front lawn.

Shadow after shadow he analyzed for movement. It was a dull clicking he now realized; the sound of expensive shoes on asphalt and it was getting closer. Thanking grace that he had thought to extinguish the glow of his cigarette, the only signal this masked intrusion had to his existence, perched on his raised porch, hidden from the silver light of the moon, he turned his head quickly, searching the street to his left and right. After a few agonizing seconds a figure appeared from around the curve of the street several houses up, walking slowly, nearly a careless stroll.

“Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong.” Gryan mouthed silently, his near frantic gaze transfixed on the intruder. The man drew closer, and passed under a street light some twenty yards away. He was dressed completely in black, wearing a large overcoat that hung just past his knees. “Something’s wrong.” Gryan whispered so quietly. It was too warm for a coat, even this late at night. Gryan’s wide eyes saw the intruder pull something from one of the pockets of his over coat. He pulled it on over his head. It was a ski mask. “Devil … Devil.” he whispered.

The intruder casually strolled by, not 15 feet away and continued up the inclined driveway of the house just across the street. A rented moving trailer was still parked in the driveway. Gryan had noticed the family retrieving boxes and furniture from it for the better part of the day. He had watched them work together to lift the large pieces of their livelihood from the trailer, struggling until they disappeared into the front door of the house. That same door the intruder now stopped in front of.

The man hauled something else from a pocket – Gryan could not make it out this time – and hunched over slightly, working at the door in front of him. Eventually it slid silently open just enough for the man to squeeze inside and pull it nearly closed behind him.

“You’re the devil. Devil.” Gryan whispered as he began to shake quietly in the summer breeze. His mind screamed at him to do something; to warn someone; call someone; Anything his mind screamed. He sat and watched, holding his breath. A minute passed. Two minutes. And he saw a flash in an upstairs window. He thought he heard a muzzled shot. Did he? Another flash…. Yes a shot. He began to violently tremble. His mind froze with his body. He pleaded with his brain to stop showing him this scene. It was fake. It could not be real. The muzzled nose echoed in his ears. He begged for the silence to return.

It could not be real.

Another flash, in another window. He shuddered, thinking about the children in the day light, getting in the way as their parents struggled with heavy chairs and tables. His ragged breath caught in his throat and he began to weep. Another flash, accompanied by the terrible, muffled bang. He jumped, he shook. Another flash. Another. His mind screamed for the silence to surround him. He would never fear it again. It could not be real.

He sat trembling, tears streaking his face, the muffled sound reverberating in his mind as the minutes rolled on. He scarcely noticed the intruder slide out through the front door once more, closing it softly behind him. The sound of expensive shoes on asphalt began once more. And as they began to dim they were accompanied by the distant sound of whistling. A careless, strolling tune.

“The devil.” Gryan whispered, choking back his own tears. He sobbed slowly through the night, listening over and over to the sound of the flash in his ears, pleading to the night for the silence once more. It never came. And some time later, as he sat on his front porch, under his roof’s overhang, holding his knees to his chest crying, the sun slowly began to rise.

He sat, slowly pleading, “Silence…Silence…” until the sun had fully risen, banishing the shadows around him. And when the dew on his scorched, neglected front lawn had finally dried, and the world had come to life once again, he heard the sound of a minivan being started. He heard the wind rustle through the small maple trees around him. He heard the first scrape of a training wheel as it glided across the asphalt before him.

Once more, Gryan softly wept. He stared across Stanley Drive to the door in front of him and wept for those behind it. He hugged his knees harder to his chest and started to plead once more to the world around him.

“Silence…” he begged. “Silence…”

A Beginning: Part 2

The room was full of healers, hooded in heavy brown robes with gold lacing in the front. All were busy reading from large tomes, making arcane gestures and muttering proposals to each other. He pushed his way through the group huddled around the bed and knelt next to it.

Lenowe was lying quietly with her eyes close. She was absolutely beautiful, even in her present state. With large sores covering her arms and legs and her face as pale white as a corpse. Her skin seemed to cling to her bones all over her body. She hadn’t been able to eat for the past week without vomiting and she had lost most of her body weight. Kneeling beside the bed Daniel squeezed her hand and smiled deeply as her eyes opened and found their way to his. She moved her free hand to the bulge on her stomach and sighed. She was well past 8 months.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to get here..." Her voice was weak and fragile. But her smile was just as vibrant as ever. "...Is it dawn yet?”

“Just about. A fourth of an hour maybe.” He was slightly winded from his run, and a little shaken from the fright of the letter, but seeing her made it settle. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Kerlic. He was a brute of a man, a foot over Daniel at least, and twice his weight. He looked troubled. Turning back to his wife, he whispered into her ear, “I’ll be right back.” She smiled and faintly nodded her head. He kissed her forehead before rising.

Kerlic lead him outside the room to the hall, still empty of people. Florn looked up as they passed but said nothing. He stood when the healer said his name. “Florn, there you are. Fetch some ginger tea with rant extract.” The servant stayed only long enough to bow and was off. Just before he rounded the corner into the main hallway, which would eventually lead him to the kitchen, the healer took a step forward and called to him. “Oh, and bring me an incense kettle.” Florn made another quick bow and disappeared around the corner.

The healer nodded as if crossing things off a mental list and then turned to Daniel. “So, I imagine you read the note then.” Daniel looked to his hands but didn’t find the note. Just the goblet, empty now run his rapid dash down several hallways.
“Yes, I-I mean no, no I didn’t. I just ran here when I heard it was from you. What is the matter?”

Kearlic pulled back the hood of his robe and scratched his balding head. Daniel thought of him as his best friend. He was the smartest person he knew, and showed the most respect to him, even though Daniel never remembered the healer calling him by a proper title or bowing before talking to him. He reasoned it was the way the healer never explained things to him like he was a child, unlike nearly all his advisors and even a few of his servants. The respect you show to a king fades when the king dies. The respect you have for a friend is respect.

"My friend, that is just it. I have a band of healers sitting in the keeps library reading into strange illnesses. I have another, reviewing the scrolls from the high priests temple in Lerach, and one more with her right now as you can see, trying all manner of formula that thought provides them with. But I know not what has her in deaths grip."

Daniel turned around and stood there awkardly. He wondered what to do with his hands, what to do with his feet. He pressed the soft part of his palms to his temples and squeezed. The extra pressure felt good.

"So trapped. Kearlic please do not speak those words." He felt dizzy with all this, and his thoughts were strewn about too many episodes to be of help to him. He didn't want to say anything, or to admit to simple truth. But there were questions he had to ask and answers to be found. "Well then, to what end will it be? More importantly, when will this end come into being?" The dizziness was being replaced by nausea, and his face was becoming as pale as his wifes.

Kerlic didn't answer him, and Daniel turned to face him. "Please friend, tell me."

"Daniel, the ladys life blood is losing color, and her existence is weakening. liM is calling her, and the amount I could do for her would but prolonge the inevitable."

"When?"

"It is difficult to tell, mayhap within the hour. The setting of the sun will pass afterwards... assuredly. There has yet to be pain in her sickness, there is no reason to believe she will have it in death."

Daniel lowered his head and he caught himself laughing. He muttered the word "pain" just loud enough for the healer to hear and started mentally listing the types. "What kind of pain Kearlic? The physical entity of life that fades with existence, or the pain that is all that's left afterwards? Hanging like a pungent smell over death, inflicting sorrow on all touched. What will not be felt by my wife? What's more dangerous?"

"Daniel listen..."

"Mayhap later." Daniel's words were but a distant breath over his shoulder as he entered back into the room he had adapted as a care home for his wife. Those 8 months seemed like years now.

For a while he just stood near her bed and watched her chest rise and fall. For the thousandth time in his wedding he tried vainly to find words to express his love. He recalled the night his offspring was conceived. How he gave himself over to blind love, and his complete and utter bliss. He smiled and started to look off into deeper thought when Lenowe turned her head to him and he knelt near the bed. She smiled and a thin wisp of hair fell to her cheek. Daniel waited for her to push it back into place, and his heart ached when she didn't move. She was a perfectionist; she'd always push out of place hair back behind her ear, and in all the time he'd known her, this was the first he could remember that she didn't. He replaced it for her, and kissed her.

Daniel heard the clanking of a tray behind him, and turned to see Florn had returned with the supplies Kearlic had asked for. The healer took the tray from him and laid it on a small end table near the fire place.

"M'Lady, please sip a little of this, it will help relax the itching, and dull the headache." He handed a tiny silver cup to Daniel and motioned him to help his wife drink.

"Do not bother." She seemed almost happy to say it. A dozen heads stoped and looked at her to see what she meant.

"Lenowe, don't fool with us. Please take a sip, it will help you recover."

"Daniel my love, my life is spent, and my soul, forfeit to liM's goodness. Tea cannot bring me back from a destiny such as this. I can hear him calling me."

"What are you saying? This is nonsence, take the tea."

"I have lived a beautiful life, full of love and bounty. I have experienced every kind of love that the good liM has created and have been loved back in all situations. I have done things that I could never have imagined in earlier life, and my regrets are few. In all, I have but one." Her hand slid to her stomach again as she continued. "Tal, has yet to live, and I know not if the chance for life will be given before death. I can wish only the beauty of my life on our child, but I am weak now and likewise for my babe. If this sublime creation is destined to pass with me, then the sorrow I feel is tried, and placed instead as the hope of recompense and more it will recieve from liM in it's first life." She saw the tears welling in her husbinds eyes and her own surfaced.

"I can only hope, that the creation we will be in together some day will have words that I might use to express my love for you, wife."

"I pass now. Cast aside fear: This is not an end, but a change, and one for the better. We will be together again, all of us. In a better place than this." She paused for a moment and looked to a healer near the door. "Is it dawn yet?" He threw his hood back and looked towards the hall.

"Any minute now m'lady, the sun will show it's head any minute."

"Very well. Then it is time. Husbind, take hold my hand and kiss me farewell."
Daniel couldn't think to do anything but what she said. He wanted to comfort her. To tell her it was going to be alright. But it was she who was consoling him. He couldn't move, but to press his lips to hers in one last kiss. He tasted tears. Salty, and backed away to look to her. She smiled again and turned her head away. Her eyes slid close, and her chest sank one last time.

He just looked at her. His face was wet with his own emotion. He scarcly noticed the tickle of one drop run down his chin and onto his neck. He heard the sound of the room kneeling, a healer say,
"Truely today the country shall weep. Their beloved queen, has passed."

Daniel kissed her hand shakily, and brushed his hand across her cheek and down her chin. After a moment he finalized things in his mind and stood. Wiping his face with his sleeve, he turned with a deep breath to Kearlic.

"I do not know what possible good it could do, but the queen is dead. Please, try to save my child. I know not if you can, or if you are willed to, but..." Kearlic nodded that he understood. That he understood everything, and started giving orders to the men in the room.

Daniel stumbled his way into the hall and fell to his knees before an arrow slit window. "Good liM, my wife is in your hands now. Please care for her until I meet her again." He bowed his head and said several silent prayers for her until he was interrupted by the light of the morning sun. He gazed up as the breeze stirred his hair to see the top of the golden ball rising just above the mountains. The sky was a streamer of a million reds and purples. He could never have imagined such a sunrise. Not in his life, or in the hundreds of paintings he had acquired over the years. In no jester's tales of far off lands and myth was there ever beauty of this amplitude. He almost felt immoral towards his mood while in the presence of such beauty. He shifted his prayers towards the ability to find some sort of comfort in a sight such as this which he'd never seen.

Far off he in the north tower he heard the bell of first light. It meant the start of a new day for the castle. He blocked it from his mind for a moment more and just listened to the whisper around him, closed his eyes as the sun warmed his face, and the breeze, playfully stirred his hair.

"Peaceful." He whispered.

A Beginning: Part 1

He was awake again as usual, before the first bell sounded. The servant bell, which would have cooks, small waiters and cleaners scurrying about on bare feet to prepare for the morning meal. He was awake before the rooster could rouse the courtyard and bring it to life with merchants and peddlers and folk rushing off to feed pigs and horses. He was always standing at the window watching the night guard patrol the wall of the castle when it all happened. When the first merchant opened shop and the smells of eggs and fruit swirled their way to his nostrils.

He felt better to be there and watch it all. Being awake made him feel like he was actually in control of things. And not playing it completely by ear like everyone else was. He had responsibility, he needed to have a master plan. It was his job.
The clank of the door to his outer chamber sounded as it did every morning at this time when his personal servants made they’re first rounds of the day. Shortly thereafter the sound repeated itself as the boy left again.

Sitting back on the wooden bench at the end of his bed, he pulled on his knee-high boots and ran his fingers over the fine leather. A brilliant, red stained hide with a golden buckle on the shin. He took off all his rings placed them in a drawer in his armoire. They were heavy things and quite useless for all his concern.

The room was huge, rectangular for the most part, with a large canopy bed along the right wall. Four windows, opposite the door ran from knee height, to just below the ceiling with silk curtains running their widths, and two glass doors on each window lead out to the balcony overlooking the courtyard and a beautiful view of the Krin far of to the east, and the walls, coated in pine wood held paintings of landscapes and waterfalls that most could only dream of.

He opened the door to his outer chamber slowly and peered out. Convinced that he was alone, he stepped out into the round entry room. He wasn’t in the mood for any advisors with political issues or for his sister complaining to him to shackle the servant boy who might have looked at her the wrong way. He crossed the room and found the tray the servant boy had left for him. Breakfast. It was cluttered with plates of eggs and oranges, and several small loaves of bread. He took the silver goblet and drank its contents slowly. It was goat’s milk, his favorite. The rest he left untouched and stood before the window.

He couldn’t eat. Not now. Not with her like this. He just strolled about the castle dreamily and prayed. Prayed to liM, for the power to change things. For the ability to say, "Lenowe my love, you’re going to be alright.”

He stifled back a yawn and straightened his red tunic. Almost dawn. She’d be calling for him soon. He filled the basin sitting on the oak washstand with the large ornate pitcher and splashed the water on his face. Thankfully realizing how cold it was, he ran his wet fingers through his hair and gazed into the table’s small mirror. It showed the face of a handsome man who couldn’t have yet been thirty, but with wrinkles of worry and stress about him that deserved an old man. Plump, heavy bags of flesh hung under his eyes. Deep blue eyes full of truth and even a childish innocence, they seemed distant or isolated right now. He either didn’t notice, or didn’t care enough to.

He felt his chin and the bristly new growth from the night before. He didn’t bother shaving. It seemed trivial right now. He didn’t want to shave, or sign forms or deal with the problem of rats in the cellar. He just wanted her to call him. He wanted to see her. To hear her say something off topic again, like,
“Daniel, stop fussing over me and fix yourself up. You’re a king, act like one.”
She was so unbreakable. He had nearly lost his mind the first night the fever started. She had been losing consciousness and vomiting heavily. The healers said her life was growing weak, but she seemed unscathed. Except, except for Tal.

Tal’Melias’Serin. It seemed ironic how true it was that it really did happen to the best of people. That was the only solution he could think of with all the time he put into thought upon it. It was beyond him as to what an unborn baby could have done to deserve the wrath of liM. He was also baffled as to how he could love someone so much he’d never met, or will never meet.

He took another slow sip and let the silky liquid linger in his mouth. Tilting his head back and closing his eyes he realized he had a headache. It was rather painful, but only when he moved his head. The pain subsided as he looked back to eye level. He swallowed, and almost smiled. He somehow had forgotten everything for just that instant and went to his own world. The one in which nothing was happening, nothing at all.

There was a loud and rapid knock on the door interrupting his thoughts. Bringing him back to life. It was almost nervous, and then there was someone clearing their throat. He stared blankly at the door and sighed as he made his way across the room. The anxious knock had thudded twice more before he reached the heavy iron handle and tugged the door open.

It was a servant, not one of his personal crew. Which was probably why he couldn’t remember the boys name. Rather short for a boy who by his look, couldn't have been short of 16. The boy was showing sprouts of new whiskers coming in under his nose and on the bottom of his chin. No more than a dozen in each area. Clad in the dress for a standard servant of the castle. A dull gray shirt tucked into a short pair of trousers of the same color. His own servants had red sashes over their uniforms and didn’t take part in the cleaning of the castle. But judging by the sweat on his forehead and the stains of mud and other filth on the knees of his pants, he was probably a kitchen aide.

“My liege…” he quickly got out before realizing he was forgetting himself. He knelt to both knees until being told to rise and then continued. “My liege, I was stopped in the hall on my way to the pantry, some terrible rats down there now you know, well of course sire, of course you do. Well its being taken care of now sire, as we speak sire. So you’ll need not worry about anything like that sire.”
“What is your name boy?”

“Florn, m’lord.”

“Listen Florn, I’m sure your doing a wonderful job with the rats and when I get the chance I will have a talk to supervisor Cherub on your performance, but I have a dozen things to attend to before the sun comes up, and a hundred thereafter. So if you would be pleased to get to the point.” The boys jaw touched his chest and his eyes widened.

Daniel liked the boy. He had a sense of dominance about him that could be seen through his attempts at humbleness. The boy continued to stare for a moment until Daniel gave him a slight twist of a smile and a nod to continue.

“Y-Yes m’lord, of course…” he cleared his throat and started over. “I was on my way to the cellar and the healers stopped me. It seemed all of them were there sire. And one of them, Kerlic the head healer I think, grabbed me and told me to bring you this note with all haste.” He produced a small folded scrap of paper and handed it to Daniel with a another deep kneel. “Sire, they were in a frightful hurry and told me to stay with you after you read it.”

Daniel didn’t need to read the note to know what was happening. He dropped it subconsciously and pushed by the servant. Milk from his goblet spilled to the floor as he dashed down the red carpet that spanned the width of the hall. The ceilings ran about 30 feet above his head and came to a point. Huge oak rafters span 10 feet apart in the peak and from each one, hung tapestries that reached almost to the floor. Each one displayed scenes from a battle, with armies of thousands on each side of a battlefield, and arrows and flame being tossed about in the sky above them. Other tapestries showed the relatives of Daniel and previous kings of Corenne, some of them just bright shades of green, blue or red. All made of fleece or silk and etched with beautiful threads and twine. The castle seamstress was a very talented woman and her apprentices were all very worthy.

Daniel scarcely noticed any of the beautiful works now. He didn’t notice anything, just go down the hall to the right and the second door on the left. All that mattered was getting there. He took the turn without slowing and hit a small table holding a glass vase full of bright blue flowers. The vase flew into the air and shattered on the floor. Daniel didn’t slow until he reached the second door. He skidded to a stop and grabbed the doorframe for balance. Florn appeared to his side still running, almost hitting him and then stopped also and sat on the floor next to the door.