As Peace made his way through the crowd a sense of urgency
took over his thoughts. He had mentioned something in a casual conversation
that had sparked things again. Why was this happening? What was the relationship
between cause and effect, and was this happening to anyone else or only him?
Was he the cause for pain and suffering, did his thoughts control the events
happening around him? These questions had been put on the back burner for a
short time while he wrapped himself in infatuation with his beautiful
companion. But now, trying to escape prying eyes and mingling with this crowd
of saint worshippers, clutching her hand and pulling her along with him his
mind went back to the place that had started this entire journey. Worried again,
he just wanted to rest and stop thinking.
He shouted to Love about trying to find a place to duck into
and escape the crowd and maybe lose whoever was following them. She could not
hear him above the noise of the crowd but sensed what he was saying and nodded
"yes"…
At just about the same time a young man stepped out onto the
street and waved to them to follow him. Who was this, and what did he want?
Without hesitation they made a quick turn to follow his lead. As it turned out
he was the son of a very rich and powerful hotel owner taking them to the back
entrance of his father’s establishment. Why was he there and how did he know to
help them? Things were getting stranger and stranger as the weary travelers
entered the back kitchen door of the Hotel Pre’venance.
The kitchen was busy with cooks and apprentices unloading
cartons and preparing desserts for that night’s large party being held in the
main ballroom. Before entering he had noticed a large fire pit type grill out
by the back door which one of the cooks was yelling to another “Bistecche,
Bistecche”, in a heavy Italian accent that he figured was the main course for
the meal that evening.
Then, as abruptly as they had been directed into this place
they were stopped by a huge tattooed man with short curly hair and a chef’s
apron who held a knife the size of a small sword. He looked as if he was right
off a Viking sailing vessel from eons past. Stopped in their tracks, they were
forced to pay attention to what he was about to say…he looked them in the eyes with
blue steel that could cut flesh with little effort and said “you are safe here”.
Damn…
Robert
2015
No comments:
Post a Comment