Rage, Rage Against the Dying of the Light
Some Mystery Becomes the Proud
Thursday, February Seventh, 9:28 P.M…
After Haven found me, I had jumped on the back of his horse that had whinnied fiercly at the new weight. He tapped its sides and the steed seemed to burst into life.
We crossed vast oceans of grass all the way up to the horse’s shoulder. At one point, we crossed a small stream before descending a steep hill. The darker it became, the further away from any hope of recognized civilization we traveled.
Once it was completely dark, he slowed his horse down to a trot, easing it to a walk as the soft clops of hooves on grass turned into harsh sounds of the horseshoes on gravel. I saw clusters of trees lead up to a house, the lights dim but not off.
“Haven, where are we?” I asked softly, unwrapping my arms from around his waist. The riding had made my legs go soft, just like jelly.
“This is my home. I live out here.” He gestured in the darkness. I could barely see his form. The lights leading up the driveway were dim, almost a cool red glow. I followed closely as he led his horse to a barn on the side of the house. I peered around dark shadows of tree trunks, seeing the vast expanse of plains that we had traveled around us.
Silence ensued. The horse, maybe a second as well, snorted to one another right as we left the barn. Haven seemed to sigh in contentment.
“Careful, there’s three steps.” He warned. I could make out the two blue eyes in the darkness, sparkling gently. I followed up the creaky wooden steps and passed through the door as he held it open for me. His arm brushed my back, making me jump. He chuckled as the lights flicked on, revealing a large, open house.
We stood in his living room. A couch was seated patiently in front of a dark TV. Chairs formed a ring around it. Some are recliners, others sitting like cushioned stone, an oxymoron of its own being. The walls were painted a soft blue, like that of a misty spring sky. The blankets were a creamy white. A coffee table was littered with a half drunk mug, magazines, newspapers, and a laptop. The kitchen was just down the hall, right past the dining room with a table facing the glass wall.
Open glass was a window to the darkness outside. I assumed this could be a beautiful sun room if only it were light outside. Right now, the stars were a brilliant superhighway over the tiny enclose. The table was seated under the glass roof, four chairs at each side of the rectangle. A simple centerpiece of flowers wilted by the hour inside of the rounded vase.
Stairs spiraled upwards, leading to a second floor above me. The balcony looked out over the living room and I could see a little sitting area in the second story, a place for a watchman to keep eyes on the area all at once.
Everything seemed so out of place in the middle of nowhere. I expected a rustic cabin, not a modern house plucked from an upper-class neighborhood.
“So, what’s your name?” Haven asked quietly. I was snapped out of my frozen posture, eyes flickering from the room to the man in front of me. His eyes shone curiously. He gestured for me to sit down on one of the couches, across from him and the coffee table. The man scurried to clean up the area, tossing papers in a haphazard disarray on the dining room table.
“Orion Greening. Rory…for short.” I spoke slowly, waiting for his reaction, patiently watching to see what he would do. Haven looked up at me, his eyes sparkling.
“Well, Rory. Zila didn’t exactly give me notice that I was going to have guests, so I apologize about the mess.” Haven apologized. I smiled weakly. I don’t care about the mess. I was just glad to be in a safe house again.
“It’s fine. She didn’t exactly give me notice that I had to be here either.”
“It’s pretty late to be up for chit-chat, but is there anything you want to know?” He asked suddenly, abruptly. I was caught off guard, mid-yawn, almost. I tried to straighten out my thoughts. Haven was a very straightforward guy, unlike Zila. While she disguised every sentence as a riddle, Haven was right to the point.
“Well, will anyone find us? This house is kind of in the middle of nowhere, but people can see you, can’t they?” I asked him. He shook his head, grinning happily. He finally stopped moving to sit down on a chair, relaxing back.
“Oh no, don’t worry about this. First off, this is the beginning of the tree line. Trees start to pop up around here, which gives us a little cover. Also, we’re about a seven hour normal walk from the nearest road, and about thirteen hours from the main highway, which winds just south of us. No one makes the journey on foot, and people rarely use aerial around this area. Sure, we’re on google maps. There’s no way to hide it, but from above, it just looks like an old house that’s broken down. The gravel drive is pretty hidden in the trees, and the barn looks run down from above. We’re fairly disguised from above, and no one rides their horses out here because it’s so far away and in unknown territory for most people.” He chuckled. I nodded, forcing my eyes open.
“Do you get visitors on the occasion, or has it happened when people stumbled upon this place?” I furthered. He looked up fondly.
“There was once, once when a girl found my place. Well, actually, I found her, and brought her here. But her arrival…that’s a story for later. Zila comes around, but she never keeps a schedule. Mostly, she’ll come out to the end of the road, spend a day scaring folks who are stupid enough to walk the long road, and then give me a call so that I can ride out to her and pick her up. She’s sporadic, just like this Montana wind. You never know when she shows up, she just does, and you enjoy the time she has with it. She usually calls me when she wants me to help take care of someone for a little while, mostly in desperate situations.” He reflected fondly. My stare was trained on him.
“So other girls come in frequently?”
“Frequently? No. Only on the most desperate situations when Zila herself can’t help them. You’re the first one in a couple of years. It gets lonely out here, but I go into town on occasion.”
“What do you mean, ‘when Zila herself can’t help them’?” I asked slowly. It seemed impossible that a girl that strong couldn’t take on anything in the world!
“Well, sometimes, a band will be too hot on her tail or the girl’s for Zila to lead the girl back to her home, so she’ll send them to me for their trail to cool off.” I thought back to what Chris had relayed to us as Haven spoke.
Zila was still a part of the Guides program, but she wasn’t a super prominent person. She was the secret of the group. Chris said that Jason told them that Zila took names and then took care of the situation herself.
Zila had her own way of dealing with things. I better not get into the middle of that.
“Okay, so is Zila hiding out as well?” I asked. Haven shrugged, laughing slightly, as if a memory tickled his smile. I waited for him to finish up. He seemed so happy and I didn’t want to interrupt.
“Oh no! No, no…when Zila sends someone like you to me, she goes and tries to distract your followers. Whichever band was following you, she’ll take care of them. Last time, she told me she planted a beehive into the bus and waited on the roof, listening to the bees being discovered, and the panic ensuing. Another time, she slashed the tires so that they were late to three concerts. The record label was mad at them and the band had to delay their search to deal with that. Let’s just say that the girl who had been with them got home safely after that deal.” Haven chuckled. I smiled a little.
Zila would surely be a person who would do that. I couldn’t help but close my eyes and remember back to when she dropkicked the BMTH boys. “Yeah, that does sound like Zila.”
“This is why I never get on her bad side.”
Silence passed. The clock ticked on.
And then I asked: “Has Zila ever killed anyone?” Haven stared at me, his eyes not angry, but thoughtful. I could only look at his colorful shirt and think of how different he was from her. Haven was sweet, open, and caring. Zila was darker, secretive, and didn’t trust others. They seemed to be great friends, but they were so different, like oil and water.
With a sigh, he bowed his head, eyes closing in weariness, remembrance, or another emotion. “Once. Once and once only. Rory, do you know the one thing that can drive a man or woman to kill?”
To this, I shook my head.
“Love. Love does great and terrible things to the soul.”
“But why?” I responded softly. His blue eyes looked at me, sadly, sadly, sadly.
“Would you kill someone who was about to murder your sister, mom, dad, or someone you love?”
I didn’t have to think before I nodded.
“What if the man holding the gun to your mom’s head was someone that you trusted or even loved? Could you kill the people you trust and love?”
I couldn’t answer that. What if Ricky was about to kill Virgo? Could I kill Ricky, whom I love and trusted dearly, just to save my sister? Could I live with myself if I did pull the trigger?
“This is not my story to share, but I will tell you this: Zila has killed once, and she killed because of love. A lot of anger, rage, and sadness came from the event. I never knew the Zila before, but the Zila that appeared after the event was someone who was changed, broken, shattered. I don’t want to talk about it, I want to leave it to her to share her story, but she doesn’t trust anyone now. I was lucky enough to get what little trust she has left to share.”
And I fell silent as well, staring at the soft carpet that swam around my feet.
“Rory, don’t get the wrong idea about her. Zila is many things, but she is not a killer. Killing because of…those reasons…doesn’t always make one a murderer.”
And I couldn’t respond to that. How can one respond to that? It left me in question, in constant suspicion, but can I still trust her? Do I have a choice?
Desperate times called for desperate measures. At one point, I was ready to slaughter those that kept me captive until my chance for a quicker escape came. I cannot judge one whose story I don’t know.
“Get some sleep, Rory. It’s been a long day.” Haven spoke softly. I nodded, silently, breathlessly. He led me upstairs to a guest bedroom with green covers on top of a bed. He left me, wishing me an easy sleep, and I fell into the covers, kicking off my shoes and bundling up in my shorts. The bag and skateboard lay against the opposite wall, reminders of my travels.
That night, I could barely sleep.
After Haven found me, I had jumped on the back of his horse that had whinnied fiercly at the new weight. He tapped its sides and the steed seemed to burst into life.
We crossed vast oceans of grass all the way up to the horse’s shoulder. At one point, we crossed a small stream before descending a steep hill. The darker it became, the further away from any hope of recognized civilization we traveled.
Once it was completely dark, he slowed his horse down to a trot, easing it to a walk as the soft clops of hooves on grass turned into harsh sounds of the horseshoes on gravel. I saw clusters of trees lead up to a house, the lights dim but not off.
“Haven, where are we?” I asked softly, unwrapping my arms from around his waist. The riding had made my legs go soft, just like jelly.
“This is my home. I live out here.” He gestured in the darkness. I could barely see his form. The lights leading up the driveway were dim, almost a cool red glow. I followed closely as he led his horse to a barn on the side of the house. I peered around dark shadows of tree trunks, seeing the vast expanse of plains that we had traveled around us.
Silence ensued. The horse, maybe a second as well, snorted to one another right as we left the barn. Haven seemed to sigh in contentment.
“Careful, there’s three steps.” He warned. I could make out the two blue eyes in the darkness, sparkling gently. I followed up the creaky wooden steps and passed through the door as he held it open for me. His arm brushed my back, making me jump. He chuckled as the lights flicked on, revealing a large, open house.
We stood in his living room. A couch was seated patiently in front of a dark TV. Chairs formed a ring around it. Some are recliners, others sitting like cushioned stone, an oxymoron of its own being. The walls were painted a soft blue, like that of a misty spring sky. The blankets were a creamy white. A coffee table was littered with a half drunk mug, magazines, newspapers, and a laptop. The kitchen was just down the hall, right past the dining room with a table facing the glass wall.
Open glass was a window to the darkness outside. I assumed this could be a beautiful sun room if only it were light outside. Right now, the stars were a brilliant superhighway over the tiny enclose. The table was seated under the glass roof, four chairs at each side of the rectangle. A simple centerpiece of flowers wilted by the hour inside of the rounded vase.
Stairs spiraled upwards, leading to a second floor above me. The balcony looked out over the living room and I could see a little sitting area in the second story, a place for a watchman to keep eyes on the area all at once.
Everything seemed so out of place in the middle of nowhere. I expected a rustic cabin, not a modern house plucked from an upper-class neighborhood.
“So, what’s your name?” Haven asked quietly. I was snapped out of my frozen posture, eyes flickering from the room to the man in front of me. His eyes shone curiously. He gestured for me to sit down on one of the couches, across from him and the coffee table. The man scurried to clean up the area, tossing papers in a haphazard disarray on the dining room table.
“Orion Greening. Rory…for short.” I spoke slowly, waiting for his reaction, patiently watching to see what he would do. Haven looked up at me, his eyes sparkling.
“Well, Rory. Zila didn’t exactly give me notice that I was going to have guests, so I apologize about the mess.” Haven apologized. I smiled weakly. I don’t care about the mess. I was just glad to be in a safe house again.
“It’s fine. She didn’t exactly give me notice that I had to be here either.”
“It’s pretty late to be up for chit-chat, but is there anything you want to know?” He asked suddenly, abruptly. I was caught off guard, mid-yawn, almost. I tried to straighten out my thoughts. Haven was a very straightforward guy, unlike Zila. While she disguised every sentence as a riddle, Haven was right to the point.
“Well, will anyone find us? This house is kind of in the middle of nowhere, but people can see you, can’t they?” I asked him. He shook his head, grinning happily. He finally stopped moving to sit down on a chair, relaxing back.
“Oh no, don’t worry about this. First off, this is the beginning of the tree line. Trees start to pop up around here, which gives us a little cover. Also, we’re about a seven hour normal walk from the nearest road, and about thirteen hours from the main highway, which winds just south of us. No one makes the journey on foot, and people rarely use aerial around this area. Sure, we’re on google maps. There’s no way to hide it, but from above, it just looks like an old house that’s broken down. The gravel drive is pretty hidden in the trees, and the barn looks run down from above. We’re fairly disguised from above, and no one rides their horses out here because it’s so far away and in unknown territory for most people.” He chuckled. I nodded, forcing my eyes open.
“Do you get visitors on the occasion, or has it happened when people stumbled upon this place?” I furthered. He looked up fondly.
“There was once, once when a girl found my place. Well, actually, I found her, and brought her here. But her arrival…that’s a story for later. Zila comes around, but she never keeps a schedule. Mostly, she’ll come out to the end of the road, spend a day scaring folks who are stupid enough to walk the long road, and then give me a call so that I can ride out to her and pick her up. She’s sporadic, just like this Montana wind. You never know when she shows up, she just does, and you enjoy the time she has with it. She usually calls me when she wants me to help take care of someone for a little while, mostly in desperate situations.” He reflected fondly. My stare was trained on him.
“So other girls come in frequently?”
“Frequently? No. Only on the most desperate situations when Zila herself can’t help them. You’re the first one in a couple of years. It gets lonely out here, but I go into town on occasion.”
“What do you mean, ‘when Zila herself can’t help them’?” I asked slowly. It seemed impossible that a girl that strong couldn’t take on anything in the world!
“Well, sometimes, a band will be too hot on her tail or the girl’s for Zila to lead the girl back to her home, so she’ll send them to me for their trail to cool off.” I thought back to what Chris had relayed to us as Haven spoke.
Zila was still a part of the Guides program, but she wasn’t a super prominent person. She was the secret of the group. Chris said that Jason told them that Zila took names and then took care of the situation herself.
Zila had her own way of dealing with things. I better not get into the middle of that.
“Okay, so is Zila hiding out as well?” I asked. Haven shrugged, laughing slightly, as if a memory tickled his smile. I waited for him to finish up. He seemed so happy and I didn’t want to interrupt.
“Oh no! No, no…when Zila sends someone like you to me, she goes and tries to distract your followers. Whichever band was following you, she’ll take care of them. Last time, she told me she planted a beehive into the bus and waited on the roof, listening to the bees being discovered, and the panic ensuing. Another time, she slashed the tires so that they were late to three concerts. The record label was mad at them and the band had to delay their search to deal with that. Let’s just say that the girl who had been with them got home safely after that deal.” Haven chuckled. I smiled a little.
Zila would surely be a person who would do that. I couldn’t help but close my eyes and remember back to when she dropkicked the BMTH boys. “Yeah, that does sound like Zila.”
“This is why I never get on her bad side.”
Silence passed. The clock ticked on.
And then I asked: “Has Zila ever killed anyone?” Haven stared at me, his eyes not angry, but thoughtful. I could only look at his colorful shirt and think of how different he was from her. Haven was sweet, open, and caring. Zila was darker, secretive, and didn’t trust others. They seemed to be great friends, but they were so different, like oil and water.
With a sigh, he bowed his head, eyes closing in weariness, remembrance, or another emotion. “Once. Once and once only. Rory, do you know the one thing that can drive a man or woman to kill?”
To this, I shook my head.
“Love. Love does great and terrible things to the soul.”
“But why?” I responded softly. His blue eyes looked at me, sadly, sadly, sadly.
“Would you kill someone who was about to murder your sister, mom, dad, or someone you love?”
I didn’t have to think before I nodded.
“What if the man holding the gun to your mom’s head was someone that you trusted or even loved? Could you kill the people you trust and love?”
I couldn’t answer that. What if Ricky was about to kill Virgo? Could I kill Ricky, whom I love and trusted dearly, just to save my sister? Could I live with myself if I did pull the trigger?
“This is not my story to share, but I will tell you this: Zila has killed once, and she killed because of love. A lot of anger, rage, and sadness came from the event. I never knew the Zila before, but the Zila that appeared after the event was someone who was changed, broken, shattered. I don’t want to talk about it, I want to leave it to her to share her story, but she doesn’t trust anyone now. I was lucky enough to get what little trust she has left to share.”
And I fell silent as well, staring at the soft carpet that swam around my feet.
“Rory, don’t get the wrong idea about her. Zila is many things, but she is not a killer. Killing because of…those reasons…doesn’t always make one a murderer.”
And I couldn’t respond to that. How can one respond to that? It left me in question, in constant suspicion, but can I still trust her? Do I have a choice?
Desperate times called for desperate measures. At one point, I was ready to slaughter those that kept me captive until my chance for a quicker escape came. I cannot judge one whose story I don’t know.
“Get some sleep, Rory. It’s been a long day.” Haven spoke softly. I nodded, silently, breathlessly. He led me upstairs to a guest bedroom with green covers on top of a bed. He left me, wishing me an easy sleep, and I fell into the covers, kicking off my shoes and bundling up in my shorts. The bag and skateboard lay against the opposite wall, reminders of my travels.
That night, I could barely sleep.
Hahaha thank you! Sorry I was watching Jane Eyre with my mommy
5/10/15