Skip to main content

Chapters 17 & 18: Jo-Mel Of The Hunt & Duality

17

Jo-Mel slashes the arrow in two with a swift swipe of the katana, snapping its shaft just inches before the tip found its mark.

“No time for that,” she says quite calmly for someone who'd just been fired upon. “You must find and free the boy. This one is dead, but its weavings will still have your son bound.”

“You stay right where you are,” Monique Felani says with deadly seriousness. She already has another arrow nocked and aimed at Jo-Mel's head.

“I can help. If you allow it.”

“Yeah, well, I don't know you like that. Ain't done so well with strangers so far.”

Lowering the katana, Jo-Mel says, “Understood. But I'm here at Askauri's behest and you should know that the wilds of the Incata are best navigated by the wit of two women.”

Peering closer, Monie says, “I know you...”

“Yes,” Jo-Mel says. “And you know that I mean you no harm, Monique Felani.”


18


Bealz is gone. No where to be found amongst the debris scattered about when Pickle-Me-Jack's enchantment collapsed. Monie, assisted by Jo-Mel, searches frantically for her son, but can find him nowhere.
They find the pieces of the battered wooden cart that Jack had pulled through the woods, but its contents had been scattered. They even managed to find and free several creatures, some even sentient, from their bindings. Most of those still wrapped in Jack's cacooning, though, were long dead.

Finally honing in on and tracing Bealz's essence down into the ether of the void, Jo-Mel knows where they must go.

“You'll have to open another gateway,” she says to Monique.

“Why? Where's my son?”

“When the demon's illusions collapsed, it created a vortex. He fell through. He's been pulled back through to Earth.”

Monique feels a pang of uncertainty. Here she stood, in her true form. Fiercely confident, capable. Scared to death. She felt as though she wore a new body. Or better yet, the same body stuffed into the skin of another.

It was Monique who wielded the flames, shaped her heart's desire upon the forge of an unwavering force of will.

Monie just wanted to hold her son. She only wanted to stroke his hair and face and shield him away and keep him safe.

The two women confronted themselves, each staring at the other with awe and disgust.

Taking a deep breath, she turns to Jo-Mel. “Let's go,” she says, closing her eyes and envisioning home. This time, with her awakening, she sees and follows the thread of her genetic line. She's allowed access to the magics of her familial histories.

The portal opens for her without the violent eruption of brute force she'd found necessary before. This time she slid easily between worlds as she took Jo-Mel's hand and stepped through, but her cipher was slightly off.


They weren't in Chicago.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

from REDEMPTION AND ASCENSION SONGS: A SPIRITUAL MANIFESTO: Quantum of Purpose

We live within an incalculably discrete moment which exists between the definitive complexities of the past and the enduring inevitability of an infinite future. These opposing states of being meet within an ever-shifting moment with less relativistic substance than either of them. This is a point in time that can hardly be considered as real. A point with no proven parameters. Consider the question of where or when along our life's thread, our timeline of existence, does the present take form? This is most difficult, if not impossible to identify because the immediacy of the moment forever slips away into the past when perceived from our current position and is constantly overwhelmed by the looming presence of the future. All that we can know for sure is that from the one state, the other is constructed. The future, the reactive effect, is birthed from the ripe potential of the past, the catalyst. To attempt to pinpoint the one, however, to fix either in place within an ...

HENRIETTA LACKS: A TRIBUTE

  HENRIETTA LACKS So this is how you died, in whispers that you did not hear? Left to an unheralded legacy, a lingering immortality that connects an advancement to an atrocity, modern day breakthroughs pushed through by cutting edge scientists, directly aligned with the Tuskegee Experiments? My darling, a lab rat who loved to dance with her kids and laugh as if her life held meaning beyond the meaningless value placed upon such a simple thing as consent in lieu of entitlement. So young. So bold. Burdened down with the weight of everything that's wrong with a coldly clinical eye toward reciprocity, explaining away the refusal to correct a mistake because of the hit the stockholders may take, capitalism clashes with morality, leaving behind the dusted remnants of sharecroppers and a young mother who loved to flash red nails and strut in the midst of an existential crisis. No easy thing, to find recognition as a human being, in a societ...