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| Choices Chapter Four |
He found a place, after some time of exploring, deep in the woods and far outside of his
little gorge. The place was on a shelf of land on the north slope of a steep mountain side.
The mountain continued to claw its way upwards, well past where the small plateau was,
and climbed so high that the top would remain capped with snow almost all the way
through summer.
There was one particular spot, about halfway across the plateau where a tangle of trees
grew. He was not sure what variety they were, but there was one huge old tree laying on
its side. The lower half of the tree had melted into the earth - Carter did not want to even
begin to guess how long that had taken - but he found himself sitting behind the giant
corpse of the tree, looking across it through the intertwining branches of the living,
thriving descendants of the fallen giant.
The branches, the thorny bark of the fallen trunk and the twisted but healthy trunks of
those still standing framed the sun perfectly; the side of the mountain as well seemed to
intersect the sun at the perfect spot to create fantastic rays of light, seemingly pointed
right at this one vantage spot; rays of light which lanced Carter’s soul, suffusing the
deepest parts of it with the golden glow of the setting sun - the glow which the sky itself
held firmly in its bosom, reluctant to let go of it and eager to welcome the same the next
day.
Such a thing had always been proof of God as far as Carter was concerned. He could not
turn away from that most innate knowledge; that whatever trickery the devil was playing
upon him, this sight before him was a gift from the Creator himself.
Such a simple thing, but . . .
With such small realizations does the world itself alter; for to humans, if not to the
universe itself, perception is always a great part of reality. To many, they would say that
perception was the greatest part of reality.
It had been weeks now, and it was gradually sinking into him that Shahhan was staying
there with him - that she was not going to leave any time soon if ever at all. The sleeping
arrangements were awkward; he could almost feel her breath in the same room - and that
breath caused his own to pause in his throat.
Despite the intense loneliness her close presence created he was glad to have the
company - he came to realize at some point over those weeks that in fact he would have
chosen never to let that go.
The longing to hold her, sweet and sour, he could stand - he would never dishonor her by
acting upon those feelings, but in the deepest parts of him those realizations were
emerging as well as his genuine liking for the woman.
He prayed as he watched the sun set; for some reason the mules had been on his mind.
Tomorrow, he thought to himself, he would start to build a plowshare. After that was done,
he would plow several fields that he had found; they had good sun, and he thought he saw
a way he could rig irrigation fairly easily. Most of it would be carried out by the structure of
the mountain itself, if he planned properly and if the rain was even moderate.
There were deer about, or what he thought of as deer even though they were not exactly
as he remembered them; he wondered what crops he would end up planting (to tell the
truth, he did not even know what seeds he had), but he was sure whatever it was that the
deer would like it. He would have to think of that.
The sun slipped all the way below the horizon; Carter got to his feet, and walked back
towards the house. He reached out and touched the nose of a deer as he went - and then
thought to himself that he would not have any trouble with the deer eating his crops after
all. A bit later a small bright bluebird landed on his shoulder; it caught the last of the
reflected light from the sky, and sang out to the dying rays.
The blue bird’s song matched Carter’s mood, and his step. He was not sure what he felt
about Shahhan; he was fairly sure that he did not even want to think of what he might be
feeling towards her. There was plenty of other stuff he had to concentrate on in any case.
The days were getting shorter; he would have to hurry on the fields. At the least he would
have them ready for seed next year.
He felt he would have a need when people came; a need to show them what would work in
this region. They would not be innocents, he knew that - but he was sure they would need
his help. What he did not know, especially after Shahhan’s outburst, was whether this was
their hell - or wether it was simply the world that they knew. Perhaps he could still do
Jesus’ work here, by spreading the word - but he had begun to wonder about his own
ability to interpret the Word correctly. He had begun to wonder exactly what he would tell
these people when it came to Jesus.
He got the little bluebird to sit in his hand, and when he went through his front door he
deposited the bright eyed little bird into it’s nest above the door. A last chirp followed him
into the bright warmth of the house.
Listening to Shahhan’s breathing at night got harder, and harder - and threatened to keep
him awake every night. She did her share of the work and more, and they talked every day
and every night. He found her mind interesting, and the way that she thought things
through. He had no bible, and no way yet to put words to paper, but she had a near perfect
memory - he found that he did to, about events since his awakening in this world. Parts of
the world before that grew dim, and some things he had to struggle to remember, but
books were not one of them.
They talked of all manner of things, and he quoted long passages from the Bible and from
other works. She related her own religion and it’s myths, which had turned out to be just
as wrong and confusing as his had. She had adapted to the idea of this much quicker,
though.
She would not talk about what she had done in between the time they had seen each
other last - and she said very, very little about what her former life had been like, other
than to say that it was hell.
Then she looked at him from her piercing eyes, and said to her this was heaven. Carter
felt his throat close up with words that he wanted to say but felt he could not. He finally
said something inane, and with a small sound of anger she got up to do the end of night
chores.
Carter heard her bang back in; the cold gust that followed her seemed to cut right through
his covers.
“Do you consider your wife dead?” Shahhan said, her voice sounding strange and tight.
“She is in your heaven, correct?”
“Yes, that is right,” Carter barely recognized his own voice; to his shame he thought less
and less about his departed beloved.
“And you are a preacher?”
“Yes.”
“Then marry us, preacher - I want to be your wife; I want to sleep in the same bed, and kiss
after dinner, and do . . . other things. I know you don’t like to talk about them, but I hear
you breathing when you finally go to sleep, and I can think of nothing but how that breath
would feel against my neck.”
He was not sure how, but she was suddenly against him, her lithe body pressing in
between his legs as he sat stunned on the edge of the bed.
He said the first thing that came to his mind - “My soul for you, my wife,” and heard her
repeat the same words. Those words still hold as the words for a marriage ceremony in
that world, and according to prophesy will never change.
They cried and then laughed, and then they did what all married couples had done since
time began.
little gorge. The place was on a shelf of land on the north slope of a steep mountain side.
The mountain continued to claw its way upwards, well past where the small plateau was,
and climbed so high that the top would remain capped with snow almost all the way
through summer.
There was one particular spot, about halfway across the plateau where a tangle of trees
grew. He was not sure what variety they were, but there was one huge old tree laying on
its side. The lower half of the tree had melted into the earth - Carter did not want to even
begin to guess how long that had taken - but he found himself sitting behind the giant
corpse of the tree, looking across it through the intertwining branches of the living,
thriving descendants of the fallen giant.
The branches, the thorny bark of the fallen trunk and the twisted but healthy trunks of
those still standing framed the sun perfectly; the side of the mountain as well seemed to
intersect the sun at the perfect spot to create fantastic rays of light, seemingly pointed
right at this one vantage spot; rays of light which lanced Carter’s soul, suffusing the
deepest parts of it with the golden glow of the setting sun - the glow which the sky itself
held firmly in its bosom, reluctant to let go of it and eager to welcome the same the next
day.
Such a thing had always been proof of God as far as Carter was concerned. He could not
turn away from that most innate knowledge; that whatever trickery the devil was playing
upon him, this sight before him was a gift from the Creator himself.
Such a simple thing, but . . .
With such small realizations does the world itself alter; for to humans, if not to the
universe itself, perception is always a great part of reality. To many, they would say that
perception was the greatest part of reality.
It had been weeks now, and it was gradually sinking into him that Shahhan was staying
there with him - that she was not going to leave any time soon if ever at all. The sleeping
arrangements were awkward; he could almost feel her breath in the same room - and that
breath caused his own to pause in his throat.
Despite the intense loneliness her close presence created he was glad to have the
company - he came to realize at some point over those weeks that in fact he would have
chosen never to let that go.
The longing to hold her, sweet and sour, he could stand - he would never dishonor her by
acting upon those feelings, but in the deepest parts of him those realizations were
emerging as well as his genuine liking for the woman.
He prayed as he watched the sun set; for some reason the mules had been on his mind.
Tomorrow, he thought to himself, he would start to build a plowshare. After that was done,
he would plow several fields that he had found; they had good sun, and he thought he saw
a way he could rig irrigation fairly easily. Most of it would be carried out by the structure of
the mountain itself, if he planned properly and if the rain was even moderate.
There were deer about, or what he thought of as deer even though they were not exactly
as he remembered them; he wondered what crops he would end up planting (to tell the
truth, he did not even know what seeds he had), but he was sure whatever it was that the
deer would like it. He would have to think of that.
The sun slipped all the way below the horizon; Carter got to his feet, and walked back
towards the house. He reached out and touched the nose of a deer as he went - and then
thought to himself that he would not have any trouble with the deer eating his crops after
all. A bit later a small bright bluebird landed on his shoulder; it caught the last of the
reflected light from the sky, and sang out to the dying rays.
The blue bird’s song matched Carter’s mood, and his step. He was not sure what he felt
about Shahhan; he was fairly sure that he did not even want to think of what he might be
feeling towards her. There was plenty of other stuff he had to concentrate on in any case.
The days were getting shorter; he would have to hurry on the fields. At the least he would
have them ready for seed next year.
He felt he would have a need when people came; a need to show them what would work in
this region. They would not be innocents, he knew that - but he was sure they would need
his help. What he did not know, especially after Shahhan’s outburst, was whether this was
their hell - or wether it was simply the world that they knew. Perhaps he could still do
Jesus’ work here, by spreading the word - but he had begun to wonder about his own
ability to interpret the Word correctly. He had begun to wonder exactly what he would tell
these people when it came to Jesus.
He got the little bluebird to sit in his hand, and when he went through his front door he
deposited the bright eyed little bird into it’s nest above the door. A last chirp followed him
into the bright warmth of the house.
Listening to Shahhan’s breathing at night got harder, and harder - and threatened to keep
him awake every night. She did her share of the work and more, and they talked every day
and every night. He found her mind interesting, and the way that she thought things
through. He had no bible, and no way yet to put words to paper, but she had a near perfect
memory - he found that he did to, about events since his awakening in this world. Parts of
the world before that grew dim, and some things he had to struggle to remember, but
books were not one of them.
They talked of all manner of things, and he quoted long passages from the Bible and from
other works. She related her own religion and it’s myths, which had turned out to be just
as wrong and confusing as his had. She had adapted to the idea of this much quicker,
though.
She would not talk about what she had done in between the time they had seen each
other last - and she said very, very little about what her former life had been like, other
than to say that it was hell.
Then she looked at him from her piercing eyes, and said to her this was heaven. Carter
felt his throat close up with words that he wanted to say but felt he could not. He finally
said something inane, and with a small sound of anger she got up to do the end of night
chores.
Carter heard her bang back in; the cold gust that followed her seemed to cut right through
his covers.
“Do you consider your wife dead?” Shahhan said, her voice sounding strange and tight.
“She is in your heaven, correct?”
“Yes, that is right,” Carter barely recognized his own voice; to his shame he thought less
and less about his departed beloved.
“And you are a preacher?”
“Yes.”
“Then marry us, preacher - I want to be your wife; I want to sleep in the same bed, and kiss
after dinner, and do . . . other things. I know you don’t like to talk about them, but I hear
you breathing when you finally go to sleep, and I can think of nothing but how that breath
would feel against my neck.”
He was not sure how, but she was suddenly against him, her lithe body pressing in
between his legs as he sat stunned on the edge of the bed.
He said the first thing that came to his mind - “My soul for you, my wife,” and heard her
repeat the same words. Those words still hold as the words for a marriage ceremony in
that world, and according to prophesy will never change.
They cried and then laughed, and then they did what all married couples had done since
time began.