The Eternal Call: Part 7

     Hours later, after the kids had run themselves ragged, they came in and helped set the table for dinner.  They worried that their grandmother might put an end to the stories.  She had looked awfully upset earlier.  Yet, after their meal, there was no hint of resistance when it was time to resume the tale of terror. 

            “Well, if you kids want to hear any more tonight, we’d better get started,” Grandpa announced as he settled into his favorite recliner.  “Tomorrow is a school day so you’ll need to get to bed early tonight.” 

Delighted, they circled around and settled in.  Even the ladies were in attendance, though Grandma’s forehead creased with worry as Grandpa picked up right where he’d left off. 

“Drums pounded a rhythmic beat as chanting servant girls danced in the flickering light, writhing in time and welcoming the wickedness of the flesh.  In a silken ceremonial mask and robes, the lead warlord stepped forward with his book of spells.  Hanging from his belt, a curious curved blade shimmered in the torchlight.  The blade’s metal seemed to take on a life of its own, swirling with blood-red streaks that would expand and contract as if pushing a life’s blood through the implement and bringing it strength.  The warlord freed the knife and held it high in the air as he called upon the spirits to imbibe him with their powers.  Until that moment, the sky was dark and silent but in response to his plea, a fork of brilliant silvery-blue lightning split the sky as rolls of thunder shook the ground.  Terrified, the helplessly bound traitor cried out, shrieking, pleading for help but none came.  In desperation, the bound man searched the deep recesses of his mind, attempting to find a counter-curse for the unspeakable evil that was about to be projected onto his body.  The warlord paid no attention to the pitiful whimpers coming from his sacrifice.  Instead, he proceeded with his own spell, tossing the necessary accoutrements into the cauldron while speaking the vilest of incantations.  Meanwhile, the chanting slave girls grew louder and more aggressive as the drum’s rhythmic pounding intensified.  It was then that the razor-sharp, curved blade came down hard, biting into the traitor’s flesh.  With the skill of a surgeon the warlord manipulated the blade, twisting and turning to channel enough blood from the victim to pour into the cauldron but not enough to kill the traitor-at least not until the right time. Paper-thin slices of flesh were flayed from the screaming man’s body and cast into the cauldron along with the other horrors.  Blood, bat’s wings, foul smelling powders and thick, viscous liquids were poured on top as the servant girls fanned the flames under the pot.  In a final rally-cry, the bound man cast out his own curse on the warlords but they were unable to understand his words over the drumming, chanting and screaming.  The traitor’s last words had uttered just as the dreaded curved blade severed the man’s heart from its valves.  With the twist of the wrist, the bloody organ plopped into the cauldron.”

     The children gasped, nervously tittering, their eyes were alight with anticipation.  Erica tried not to chuckle at the look of horror plastered on her mother’s face. The old man did his best to avoid her displeased glower as he continued. 

“The contents boiled hard and fast with copious billows of thick black smoke roiling out to reach the dark sky.  What began as tendrils of black smoke, coiled into claw-like fingers, reaching out and grasping hold of the cauldron.  The abomination, a demon from the depths of Hell burst forth from the pot with a fiery blast, spewing the befouled contents onto the ground.  Entranced by the effects of his dark magic, the warlord cried aloud with glee, weeping with excitement over his triumph.  Yet when the warlord tried to command the beast to his bidding, the demon reviled.  It snatched up the warlord in its scaly claws and tore through the silken robes into his tender flesh, shoveling innards into the gaping hole of its maw. Smoldering with the fire of Hell, the abomination’s scales seared and cauterized all that it touched.  The weaker warlords attempted to flee in a riot of terrified screams, stampeding over anything in their path but the demon had other plans.  A flaming blaze projected from the terrible creature’s mouth, engulfing many of them a column of fire.  Moments later, all that remained of those who had been trapped was a brittle mound of charcoal, flaking in the gentle breeze.  With each soul it consumed, the demon grew larger and more powerful until it was able to scoop up the remaining slave girls with one grisly hand and soar high into the air with their searing flesh melting through its claw.”

“Oh my heavens!” Grandma exclaimed.  “What on earth are you telling our sweet babies, William?  This is not an appropriate tale for the children!” 

The four grandchildren vehemently disagreed.  They were enraptured and wanted more.  Sensing that it was pushing her mother to the brink, Erica suggested calling it a night.  As she tucked her children into bed, she promised she would have a talk with Grandma, and they’d be permitted to continue Grandpa’s story the next evening.  

The Eternal Call: Part 6

The two days without their grandchildren moved painfully slow for the old man and his wife.  The house felt empty and dull but was soon filled with the hustle and bustle of a young family again.  The children, like always, tore through the house.  Hugs, kisses and even some homemade Veteran’s Day cards were showered lovingly on their grandfather.  With the help of their mother, a special lunch and an array of desserts were spread out for a quiet celebration of thanks.  Like a plague of locusts, the children devoured every scrap of food.  Only then were they ready to gobble up their grandfather’s story with the same zeal as their lunch.

            “Okay, we left off with the traitor rethinking his affiliation and considering a return to the four captains.”  He started.

            “But the warlords were already planning to chop out his heart and create a demon,” Zack interjected. “Don’t forget about that!”

            “Would I do that to you?  No way!”  Grandpa chuckled.  “The traitor stood from his seat and announced that he’d shared everything he could remember.  He turned and headed for the door when the warlords rose.  Their leader, and by far the strongest in the dark arts, stretched out his long, boney hand.”  To embellish the story, the old man stretched out his hand, took a deep breath, making his eyelids flitter before continuing. 

            “In a deep, raspy voice, he called out a spell.  Instantly, black snake-like cords shot out from his fingertips and constricted around the traitor. As they enveloped their prey, they became more and more reptilian.  Bound tighter by the serpent strands than any ropes could manage, the prisoner realized that his life was forfeit.  The warlords would never allow him to leave the village, at least not alive. He was secured to a wooden post in the center of the village after the sun went down.  Torches burned against the darkness, wisps of smoke twirled into shapes reminiscent of eerily shaped eyes, portholes from the pits of Hell to watch the proceedings.  The villagers hid in their homes, none brave enough to witness the birth of a demon.”

     Grandpa sipped his coffee and took another bite of his cake, wondering if perhaps he had made the story too frightening.  The children were flushed with excitement but did not appear too fearful.  Even his wife and daughter had edged in, listening with intense fascination.  With a wary, raised, eyebrow the old man’s expression asked the question he dare not say aloud.  Had he gone too far?  Erica, his daughter smiled, realizing he concerns. 

            “I’ll bet you never knew your grandfather was such an accomplished storyteller,” Erica laughed.

Tousling her boys’ hair and planting a loving kiss on Madeline’s head, she casually interceded for a brief reprieve. 

            “How about if we let Grandpa finish his cake and give his throat a little rest before he continues?”  She suggested.  “If he loses his voice, we’ll never find out what happens!” 

Any resistance she might have heard from her children was instantly squelched at the mere mention of their master storyteller losing his voice.  To give the old man a much needed break, the kids set off outside to burn up some energy.

            “You know, Dad,” Erica whispered when the kids had gone. “They talked about this story all weekend long.  They love it and they couldn’t wait to get back to hear more but if you get worn out, tell them you need a break!  And don’t worry, you’re not scaring them.  You’re scaring the crap out of Mom... but the kids are just fine!”  

The Eternal Call: Part 5

With the children’s minds soothed, the story resumed. 

            “The turncoat expected a hero’s welcome when he crossed into the village.  Instead, he was forced to wait for hours before the warlords would even consent to meet with him.  He was treated with a cold disdain and the more he divulged, the less impressed they appeared.  Insulted by their callous treatment of his efforts, the man withheld a great deal from Demetrios’ plans, deciding to switch sides again.  Perhaps, he concluded, it would be better to fight on the side of freedom.  In truth, the warlords knew that a man who would betray his compatriots could never be trusted.  They didn’t even need to use black magic to know that the traitor’s heart had been corrupted.  All along, the warlords had planned to kill their lackey.  His blackened heart would be more useful to them to conjure one of their most wicked spells.  They believed a traitor’s blood became irreversibly tainted and as it pumped through the body, the heart warped and became stained with a dark evil.  The traitor’s heart would be cut from his body while he was still alive and tossed, mid-beat into the flaming cauldron.  Once combined with the key ingredients from their spell books, the evil would concentrate.  Then the warlords would be able to release the wickedness back into the world as a demon- a demon they commanded.”

     The old man paused for a drink while his grandchildren whispered excitedly amongst themselves.  They had been anxiously waiting for the really scary parts to take off and finally the story was weaving in that direction.  Even Maddie was hoping the traitor would suffer yet she did not like the idea of the warlords having control over a wicked demon.  She feared for the brave captains and their loyal men. 

            “Grandpa, how come the warlords can be traitors and no one cuts out their heart?”  Nathan asked. 

His grandfather smiled in return.  He had hoped that one of the boys might notice the correlation between the minion’s treachery and the fact that the warlords had commanded him to do just that. 

            “Have you heard this story before?” He asked the boy, teasingly, for he was certain the boy had never heard this story before. 

            “Nope,” Nathan responded.  “It’s just not fair that they sent that man off to spy and then they call him a traitor.  They’re the traitors for using evil to make people into slaves and then they pretend that they’re good when they’re really the bad guys! Does the black magic backfire?”

At this, his siblings shushed Nathan and told him to quit interrupting Grandpa.  They preferred hearing the story the way it was intended rather than their brother’s attempts to puzzle it out.  But before their grandfather could continue, another interruption plagued them.

            “Are you all having a good time?” Their mother asked.  “I hope the story is almost over because we’ve got an early bedtime tonight.”

     The cries in protest rose loud and bitter.  Friday nights had always been the one night they were allowed to stay up later.  Instead they were being sent to bed earlier than a school night.

            “Did you forget we’re spending the weekend at Uncle Mike’s?  It’s Tyler’s birthday so we need to hit the road early to get there in time for the party.”

     Now the kids were torn.  Their Cousin Tyler’s party would ordinarily be a source of great excitement but they’d been sucked into the story and hated the idea of missing out on two whole nights while they were away.  Tyler was a cousin on their father’s side so their maternal grandparents would not be attending the party and even if they did, there was no way their grandfather would tell that story outside of his own home.  Since school was closed for Veteran’s day, they would not return until Monday afternoon.  In support of his daughter, the old man ordered everyone to bed with the promise that they would start the story earlier on Monday as a compromise.  He tucked the children into bed and wondered what he was going to do with his spare time for those two days. 

****Please return for Part 6 on Monday, November 11th****  

The Eternal Call: Part 4

    With homework and dinner behind them, the kids filed into the living room and formed a semicircle around their grandfather.  True to their word, they were ready to sacrifice their allotted television-time in favor of the story.  Their grandfather gleamed with pride but more than that, he was overjoyed to have his own special bonding moment with the kids.  They wouldn’t stay young forever and in time they would be too busy, or too cool, to want to hang out with their grandparents.  This was the stuff memories were made of.  He didn’t even have to ask where he had left off in the story; the children were quick to remind him.  He had left off where the four captains had raised the morale of their troop so much that they were all about to pledge their lives to fighting evil and injustice-all except one. 

“Hidden within the ranks,” the old man began.  “One of the warlord’s minions had disguised himself as one of the soldiers.  He’d been sent to ferret out their enemy’s plans. He listened as Demetrios, Eleon, Linus, and Praxis laid out their battle tactics, taking mental note to relay every word to the greater warlords.  After the outline for the campaign had been exposed the traitor slipped away from the ranks to earn his reward.  As he crossed back into the village, his mind swam with the honors he expected to be bestowed upon him, such a loyal and willing servant.”

   The children were livid, particularly the older boys who had a greater understanding of the ramifications of a traitor in the ranks.  Little Madeline’s eyes welled.

            “Could someone do that to my Daddy while he’s fighting?”  She fretted.

The old man scooped the precious girl into his arms and together, with her brothers, convinced her that their dad was going to be just fine. 

            “You’ll see, Princess, traitor are always discovered and good triumphs.”  He assured her. 

   The child smiled, relieved that the bad man was going to get his comeuppance.  Though the boys would never say it aloud, they too were concerned and their wise grandfather allayed their fears too.  

The Eternal Call: Part 3

The house was a bustle of activity the instant the kids stepped off the bus and dashed inside.  Books and backpacks were tossed aside haphazardly, the horde was hungry.  Snacks and juice were divvied out and almost as quickly as it began, the dust settled and the mini-tornado that had touched down, was gone.  The old man looked at his wife and smiled.  Curious, they wandered toward the bedrooms and peeked in. Each of the four children had their books open, working on their homework.  Just before five, Erica returned from work, surprised to find her children hard at work.  Homework was often a struggle.  She returned to the kitchen to find her parents working together on the dinner preparations.

            “Okay, who are they; and what have you done with my children?” Erica laughed, pointing toward the bedrooms.  “Not that I’m complaining but I usually have to threaten to tie them to the desk before they crack open the books.  So, what’s your secret?  Incriminating photos, mind control drugs in their juice boxes, what?”

Her father shrugged, indicating that he had no idea what inspired the change.

            “Don’t you dare act all innocent,” the matriarch scoffed, her hands planted firmly on her hips.  “Those kids are dying to hear more of your story and they don’t want to be interrupted again like last night. Maddie let the cat out of the bag.  She said they all decided to get their homework done ASAP so they could spend more time with Grandpa.  She said they’re even willing to sacrifice TV time because you’re, quote, cooler than anything on television.” 

The old man’s chest puffed with pride.  He’d never been called “cooler than television” before but he was beginning to like the sound of that. 

“Not bad for a retired, old, Viet Nam Vet,” he quipped.  "It just so happens we're about to get to the good stuff soon."

The Eternal Call: Part 2

Even the name, “Aeterno Vocatus” sounded creepy.  Four pairs of tiny eyes widened, silently urging him to continue.  In his best ethereal voice, the old man continued.

“Long ago, long before the colonies banded together to form our great nation and became the United States-before the Europeans discovered there was an America and even before the common folk realized the Earth wasn’t flat.  Since the ancient times, there have always been brave men willing to stand up for freedom, risking their lives to win independence from tyranny and battling darkness to bring forth the light.  One particular group of men did just that; they called themselves The Brotherhood of Eternal Glory.  Their mission was rid the world of darkness and evil.  They fought against oppression and, sometimes, against the devil’s minions.”

“What’s a minion?” Maddie gasped; her deep brown eyes grew wider. 

“It’s a follower,” Zack hissed.  “Now keep quiet!” 

“Yes,” her Grandfather continued.  ‘A follower: a man, woman, or in some cases even a demon, willing to do whatever the devil commanded but I’m getting ahead of myself.  I need to start the story before the brotherhood gave themselves a name.  Back then, it started with just four Captains leading their men into battle. Time and time again when the four captains led the charge, they were successful.  It was not always so when the four were separated but together they were unbeatable.  Their orders were to vanquish…Madeline, vanquish means destroy… a neighboring village that had been overrun by evil warlords.  The warlords had used black magic to enslave the villagers.  They made live sacrifices of those who refused to do the warlords’ bidding.  Our heroes, the young captains; Demetrios, Eleon, Linus, and Praxis, led their men bravely to what seemed to be their impending doom.  The men serving under the brave captains trembled with fear.  Realizing that the morale of their troops was suffering, Demetrios pulled them all together and gave a speech so stirring, so eloquent, that right then and there, each of the soldiers pledged their lives to completing the mission.”

      The old man paused and took a sip of his coffee.  His grandchildren sat with baited breath, yearning for more. 

            “Did they die, Grandpa?” Nathan gasped.  “Did they get sacrificed then turn into zombies?” 

Chuckling, he assured the boy that no one turned into a zombie.  Disappointment flickered across young Nathan’s face but not for long. 

            “But there are things worse than zombies that one could become,” Grandpa replied in a sinister voice. Again, he had the children’s undivided attention and they settled in for more.  “Now, where was I?”

            “The soldiers pledged their lives to complete the mission,” Ethan replied eagerly. 

            “That they did, Ethan.  Those men realized that the fate of their nation, perhaps even the entire world depended on their success.  If they failed, the warlords would grow stronger and their evil would spread.  Village after village, country after country would fall into darkness and despair unless the four captains and their soldiers were victorious.  In a voice that thundered like Zeus atop Mount Olympus, Demetrios called to his brothers in arms and vowed that if they succeeded he would not stop with this one mission, his pledge would continue until his death!  If God smiled on their campaign and granted them favor, he vowed to continue fighting the good fight until God called him from this world. His men were so moved that they all agreed, pledging their lives to the same fate….all but one.”

            “Hey!” Their mother shouted from the other room, “is everyone’s homework finished?” 

 The children had been focusing so intently on the story, they jumped, startled by their mother’s interruption.  Their faces said what their mouths had not; they still had homework to complete.

            “C’mon, get your butts in gear and get that homework finished,” their grandfather ordered, shooing them off.  “No pouting, the story can wait.  Your schoolwork is more important.” 

The children scattered to collect their books and assignments, playfully marching to the old man’s cry of, “Hut, two, three, four”.  With the children gone, he eased back into his recliner, sighing, and reached for the remote.  A moment later his wife joined him, perched on the arm of his chair, smiling.

            “What were you telling those kids?  Erica is having a heck of a time getting them to settle down.  You’ve got them all wound up.”  She teased, playfully wagging her finger at her husband.   “If they have nightmares tonight, you’re in trouble mister!”

The Eternal Call

Instead of just one day, I’d like to dedicate the entire month of November to the brave men and women who have put their lives on the line to protect our freedom. Welcome to Veteran’s Month.  To those who have served, thank you!  To those who are currently serving, you have my deepest respect and to those who will serve in the future, may your bravery see you through. 

*********************************************************************************

 While the grandchildren whooped and hollered, dashing at top speed through the yard, the old man sat in his porch swing and smiled.  He envied their energy.  Youth is truly wasted on the young, he decided.  In their own way, each of the children exhibited their own strengths.  The youngest, Madeline, was attempting to outdo her older brothers.

“Watch me, Grandpa!  Watch me!”  Maddie squealed before launching into a cartwheel. 

Ignoring the aches and crackling joints, he rose and applauded his granddaughter’s effort.  Ever the little princess, she pulled the hem of her jacket out as if it was her gown, and curtsied.   He chuckled and eased himself back into the swing.  A moment later his daughter came and sat beside him.

            “Dad, are you sure it won’t be too much on you and Mom for us to stay here?  The kids can be a handful and you two aren’t used to all the noise.  John’s worried that…”

            “Erica, your mother and I are thrilled to have you and the kids stay with us.”  He replied.  “Look, we all knew this day might come; it’s just part of the life.  I’d say our family knows that better than most.  You’ve always been my pride and joy, sweetheart, but I have to admit, you outdid yourself when you decided to marry a Marine.  It shocked me, especially since you were the most vocal about your displeasure with my vocation.  I distinctly remember a very heated discussion when you were about sixteen…you swore that you’d never marry a military man.  If I’m not mistaken, I believe you told your mother she was insane for marrying a Marine.  The core was, quote, ruining your life and it wasn’t fair that we had to move all the time.  Later, when I was deployed, you said it was wrong for them to send me away when I had a family to take care of.  The constant moving wasn’t easy on you or your brother and deployment is even harder but you survived.  You and your little ones will survive this too.  You’re more equipped to help them deal with it than your mother was.  In the meantime, we’re glad you agreed to stay with us for a while.  It will put John’s heart at ease while he’s over there.”

             “Thanks, Daddy.”  Erica whispered as she hugged her father tightly.  
Despite his advanced age, he still carried himself like the officer he had once been.  Active duty or retired, once a Marine, always a Marine. 

Later that evening, while Erica and her mother cleaned up the dinner dishes, the kids had huddled in front of the television, commandeering it for their favorite shows.  Their grandfather scowled but endured the tedious programming.    

            “Okay, gang.  TV time is up!”  Erica called from the kitchen.

Her announcement was met with a chorus of groans from the children but a grateful smile crept across the old man’s face. Struck with inspiration, the children exchanged conspiratorial whispers, eyes glowing with excitement.  After a quick round of Rock-Paper-Scissors, the middle boy, Nathan, stepped forward.

            “Grandpa?  Would you tell as a story?”

The old man smiled and nodded.  There was almost nothing he wouldn’t do for his beloved grandchildren.

            “Hmm.  Let’s see.  Once upon a time…”

A collective disgruntled groaning rose from the kids, coupled with eye rolling and snorts of derision. 

            “Ugh!  We’re too old for fairy tales.”  Zack, the eldest boy, grumbled.  “Forget it.”

            “Yeah,” said Ethan.  “We want to hear a scary story.  Fairy tales are for babies.”

Even Madeline wanted a scary story.  His sweet angels wanted bloody, gory death instead of happily-ever-after.  The old man smiled wistfully, the days of innocence were long gone. 

            “Well, I know one but if any of you have nightmares or are too afraid to sleep alone, we go right back to the kid stuff, got it?” 

The children nodded in unison, as their anticipation grew.  They crowed in closer, hoping their mother wouldn’t overhear and put an end to the story before Grandpa got to the good part. 

            “This one is called Aeterno Vocatus or in English, Eternal Call”