Chapter 1
Israel paused for a moment, glancing down to his notes and Bible. Silently, he stood before his congregation as they looked on in adoration, anticipating his next bout of guidance. He knew he had always been a talented orator; speaking of what came from within and pouring the raw emotion that endlessly drove him into every syllable he uttered. As far as he could tell, his sermons pleased his listeners greatly. At least, he thought with a wry grin, they haven’t stopped attending just yet.
In truth, he was honored to be the voice of comfort and solitude to the people of his town of Shady Grove, but as he paused between breaths, he wondered if he had ever truly impacted any of his listeners, or how many souls he had saved by converting them to the Lord. Often, he had feared that he was just another lecturer; a parrot delivering words that could have been repeated by another just as easily. Finally, he broke from his momentary lapse and scanned down to his next collection of notes to continue his sermon.
“What does it truly mean to be disciplined?” he began. “Is it possible to better yourself without sacrifice and suffering? Hebrews 12:11 tells us: ‘For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.’ Good people, there is no joy in life that is not matched in equal terms of suffering. This is the test that God has put before us. In His own mysterious way, he guides us and shows us the path to righteousness. It is not our place to question this. I know many of you are probably thinking about the first of the month and all those bills you have to pay. They are perhaps the worst test that we have to endure.” The people chuckled as he smiled and continued,
“Keep your heads held high and your faith strong. God’s hands will guide you home.”
As Israel finished, he looked down to his sister, Miriam. She had a faint smile upon her face that denied her usual stoicism. He did not waste such a rare opportunity. He beamed back at her as he closed his Bible. Miriam could be a harsh woman at times, but within her chest beat the heart of a strong, Christian woman. She was the last immediate family that he had, besides his son, and he loved her more than words could express.
Slowly, Israel turned and walked back to the pew adjacent from the podium as the choir rose and began flipping through their hymn books. As the organ hummed to life and the voices of the choir rose, Israel closed his eyes and became lost in the haunting melody. Music had always been one of his deepest loves, and he felt blessed that his church among so many would play host to such a talented choir.
As he listened, he saw himself as a young boy, opting to read his hymnal and practice the songs within as opposed to playing with other children. It had been the only book he read more often than his Bible. He smiled as he suddenly realized that the hymn the choir had chosen was one of his favorites, one that awakened a long dormant, but cherished, memory. He cursed himself for ever having forgotten it. It was a hymn that his mother would sing. He could remember her as she hung laundry on a drawstring in the morning sun, singing as she worked. Despite the years since he had heard her voice, the sound of her singing coupled with the sight of sunlight bleeding through pure, white sheets seemed as vibrant as ever. The memory sent chills down his spine. He thought about the way she would sing; always the slightest hint of loneliness in her voice that came and went like a summer breeze. Even at a young age, Israel could detect it, but at the time, he did not understand why. As he grew older, he began to understand the harsh realities of married life, but he had always known how much his mother and father had loved each other. His father had been a pastor before him, and was a strong-willed man that at times could be considered overzealous in his convictions, yet no other man could instill the burning desire to know God as his father could. His father had always been a fire-and-brimstone man of faith, who firmly believed that the rod was the most necessary tool in the upbringing of any child. Israel winced as he remembered on more than one occasion having to go out into the yard to pick a branch from a nearby tree so that his father could beat him with it. Despite the often-overwhelming harshness of his childhood, Israel loved his father, and knew that he was a good man. Raising a family in the light of the Lord was no easy task, but Israel knew his father had done the best that he was able.
In what had seemed like mere moments, Israel suddenly realized that the music had stopped. The light shining through the stained-glass windows blinded him as he snapped his eyes open. The service was over. It began to dawn on him that the usual satisfaction from his time spent in church was somehow slipping away, the realization that he was becoming more distracted an all too obvious reality. Thoughts of childhood seemed to swarm his mind as of late, and although they brought him great happiness, their recent prevalence in his mind confused him. With a shrug, he cast off the notion as mere senility.
As the people rose and filed into the parallel aisles to talk and say their goodbyes, Israel slowly stepped down from the pulpit. A couple he knew well approached him, their faces warm and inviting.
“That was a wonderful sermon, Israel,” the wife said, smiling. “As always.”
“Thank you, Gloria,” Israel replied as he touched his hand to her arm affectionately.
“How’s Isaac?” she asked.
“He seems to be doing well. He just took his advancement exam and he feels confident.”
“That’s wonderful. Please tell him that he is in our prayers.”
“I will,” Israel said with a nod and a smile. As Gloria and her husband, Tim, turned away, Israel felt a subtle sadness pick at his heart at the mention of his son. His thoughts never strayed far from Isaac, but he honestly could not remember the last time he had seen him. Despite the sadness he felt at his absence, Israel did not worry for the safety of his son. He was in God’s hands.
Israel stood as he watched the couple walk away to talk with the others in the congregation. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed movement and turned to see Miriam approaching him. Her gray hair was neatly cropped around her neck, and her dark eyes were vivid and intelligent. Israel often teased his sister that no secret could stay hidden from her for long. A few moments of her stare could reduce even the most strong-willed of men to frightened boys. Israel took her into his arms with a hearty hug, but before he could ready himself, she asked, “You look tired today, Israel. Did you fall asleep during that last hymn?”
Israel chuckled. “Being in the spotlight is very exhausting.” Miriam did not look amused, but in her shrewd observation, she understood the deflection and did not press any further.
“Don’t forget about Mary’s graduation party this weekend. 3:00, alright?”
“I’ll be there, Miriam. Don’t you worry.”
He smiled and hugged his sister again. She lingered in his arms for only a fraction of a second longer than normal, which Israel suspected was due to her growing concern for his well-being. The thought nearly made him laugh with childish glee as she finally released him and turned to join her husband, John. Israel’s eyes followed her and John for a brief moment, and then slowly, he began making his own way towards the doors of the church.
As Israel walked to his car beneath the blistering sun, he longed for his younger days all the more. He recalled spending countless hours as a boy, sprinting around the country side, exploring the rivers and brooks, and navigating the woods that peppered the surface of his small town like sage-green freckles. In all of his 67 years, he had only left his home once: to see his son graduate from boot camp. He had no regrets. His was a spirit of gratitude for the home he had and he shared no desire for travel or adventures. He smiled to himself as he wondered where in the world his son acquired the bravery to join the military. The notion of seeing places so vast and far away from home quite simply scared him. Israel felt much more at ease nestled in his rocking chair on his front porch, watching his sleepy town grow ever sleepier. Silently, he thanked God for making his purpose in life so easy to discern. With the myriad of choices and factors that play into the intricacies of modern living, he could at least take comfort in the fact that his role was small and simple, yet still held meaning.
As Israel made his way home, he came up to an intersection that he had passed countless times. The blue house that had stood watch at the corner for decades still lacked any semblance of repair, and Israel could not ignore the pang of sadness he felt every time he passed it. In a way, he considered it a brush with mortality, and like his own time left on earth, there was little to be done that would only prolong the inevitable. Stopped in his car, Israel broke from his lingering thoughts as a horn suddenly blared behind him. He glanced into the rear-view mirror, and then to his dashboard clock. Without realizing it, he had sat at the stop sign for several minutes. Hurriedly, he re-positioned himself and looked at the intersecting road. He felt a thread of panic as he immediately realized that he didn’t know which way to turn. The horn behind him blared again, provoking some degree of annoyance within him, however, he was still no more certain of which way to turn. Out of options, Israel cut the wheel to the left and depressed the gas pedal. He prayed the choice he made was correct. After passing several unfamiliar landmarks, he finally came up to the local produce store and laughed as he realized he was going the wrong way. Perhaps the sun is a little too hot today, he thought. Turning off onto a gravel road, Israel reversed his direction and made his way back home, the route newly charted in his mind.
A wave of relief filled Israel as he walked up his delightfully noisy porch steps. They had creaked for years and were a constant reminder of his procrastination to fix them. As he slid his key into the front door lock, Israel felt a curious sense of loneliness. He had never really minded being alone until the day Isaac left for his new life. The house had been empty ever since, and although Israel had never gotten used to it, what he felt now was strangely unique. Now and then, he would feel a sense of sentiment when he would glance at Isaac’s bedroom door, but he had never felt truly alone as he did now. Once, Isaac thoughtfully offered to get him a dog, but Israel had adamantly refused. Israel grinned to himself when he remembered Isaac pressing the matter on more than one occasion, and always, Israel changed the subject.
“A pet would just distract me from the things I need to do around the house,” he had once said. Israel laughed as he remembered his rebuttal, thinking of the irony in his logic regarding his creaky stairs.
As Israel took off his jacket, he walked into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. He gathered what he needed, and turned on the stove to boil water. Before long, he held his hot mug as the tea steeped within. Ambling back to his favorite armchair, he instinctively reached into his pockets to empty them before sitting down. He froze as he realized his keys were not in his pocket.
Israel placed his cup of tea on the table beside his chair and began pacing around the room, patting down his clothes in a feeble attempt to find his keys. He grew worried, as he began to retrace his steps from when he entered the house. He followed his memory, which led him back into the kitchen, where he began to open his cupboards, one by one. As he opened his mug cabinet, Israel blinked.
Sitting there, beside the honey, were his keys.
When did I put them there? he thought. He rewound the events of making tea in his head, but could not remember placing his keys inside the cupboard. Israel did not laugh this time. Agitated at the frequent gaps in his memory, he walked back to his chair and sat down. He shook his head a final time as he looked to his steaming mug, and then reached out to grasp its handle. The aroma of the tea leaves, as well as the invigorating warmth of the liquid, flooded him with an almost spiritual convalescence. It was the reprieve he needed from such a strenuous drain on his mind.
As Israel drank, he glanced at a picture of a much younger woman on the table desk across from him. He lingered on the cheerful expression written on her face, and smiled back at her tenderly. Despite the sadness in his heart, he could not help but grin as he looked at her. If ever he had been blessed, it was to have known a woman that could bring out such bliss in him despite the troubles of the world. In his own words, however, he remembered the harsh ringing of truth in his sermon from that morning.
‘There is no joy that is not matched in equal terms of suffering.’
With soft and infrequent sips, Israel finished his cup of tea and spent the rest of his Sunday reading in the peace that his long and tired years had brought him.
The horizon began to darken as the sun slipped behind the distant trees. Night was fast approaching, but now was his favorite time of day. Israel had been rocking in his chair on the front porch, with nothing but a symphony of insects to break the evening’s tranquility. With no distractions, he often enjoyed many hours of quiet contemplation, which he found to be the best remedy for restlessness.
Over the years, Israel had noticed the ever-quickening pace of the world, and he often wondered if people ever really noticed anything anymore. Everyone should just move to the country, he thought. Of course, it just wouldn’t be the same around here anymore either. He sighed deeply, and rose from his rocking chair as the last shimmering remnants of light were engulfed in shadow. With one final moment of relish, Israel pulled open his screen door and made his way back to his bedroom. As Israel undressed, he couldn’t help but notice that he felt absolutely exhausted, despite the serenity of the day. He climbed into bed and reached over to his bedside table lamp. Despite the comforting glow of the soft light, the subsequent darkness as he clicked it off soothed his tired eyes. Almost immediately, Israel felt the room around him blur from consciousness, as he drifted into sleep.
Israel could not remember how long he had been awake before the sudden whine from outside his window made him spasm as if he had been struck. He sat upright and blinked in the darkness as his frail eyes picked up dim outlines of the familiar shapes of his room. Israel looked to the digital clock beside his lamp. It was the only clearly visible object amidst the darkness, yet he frowned as he looked at the clock’s face. He could see the time, but for some reason, the numbers appeared foreign and unintelligible. He blinked rapidly, but the clock remained aglow, displaying nonsense. He ran his hands over his face and began to massage his temples. Casually, he looked to the window. He could hear the sound again; faint and distant, as if coming from the trees beyond the yard, but the window was jet black, as though concealed by a void. The moon appeared to be absent from the sky, as well as any sign of stars. Israel had never seen a blacker night, and he clenched his teeth tightly out of fear of biting his tongue.
He felt down to the table beside his bed and turned on his table lamp. The darkness vanished from the room, but Israel felt no comfort. He felt alone now more than ever. He pulled back the sheets from his legs and climbed out of bed. Despite the adrenaline that had fully roused him from sleep, he stumbled across his room weakly like a shambling corpse. The whimpering sound resonated loudly from the trees again, and Israel recognized it for the first time as not human. It was almost familiar, but for the life of him, he could not recall from where he knew it. Regardless, the whimper sent a slow chill up his spine. With renewed vigor, he moved to the kitchen and pulled a flashlight from one of the drawers. He had not used it in years, and the dead click from its power switch seemed to laugh in his face. Feeling lost, he suddenly remembered one other option: a stash of candles that he had saved from his Christmas decorations. He moved to the closet at the back of the kitchen, and found several dusty yuletide candles. After finding one with a convenient handle, he grabbed some matches and lit the wick. The warm flicker of flame caressed Israel’s face; its carefree dance seemingly urging him outside. He walked to the kitchen door that led to the back porch and twisted the doorknob open.
Slowly and carefully, Israel stepped out into the depths of the waiting darkness. The radius of light from Israel’s candle was small, almost to the point of blindness beyond the reach of his arm. He cupped his hand around the base of the candle, anticipating the inevitable gust of the wind that would most likely snuff the flame. Slowly, he made his way towards the source of the crying sound, which steadily grew louder as he approached. It was becoming more apparent with each step he took that the whine was not one of fear or hunger; it was pain.
Excruciating pain.
Israel drew upon the wall of trees with resolution, but every step he took seemed to cause him some measure of the pain in the sound that he heard. He was terrified, but the curiosity he felt was undeniable. As Israel came upon the forest wall, something forced him still. There was something in the trees, something he knew was watching him. Just beyond the precipice of the forest, a presence drove Israel to his knees with terrible force. He could feel the presence towering over him, emitting raw power like a force of nature. The feeling hollowed him to his core. The candle he held rolled from his hand, yet the flame did not go out. In fact, it remained undisturbed despite the fall, and burned brightly, as if it were sitting safely atop a table, immune to all external forces. The source of the whimpering, although dreadfully shrill a moment ago, was now falling in pitch until little more than heavy breathing was heard. Finally, the breathing stopped and the world around Israel fell into complete and utter silence. The sound of crickets, the wind through the trees, the frogs singing their songs a cappella, all of it was gone. It was as if nature had held its breath, but for what reason, Israel did not know. He closed his eyes as the pain in his legs slowly subsided. As he pondered on what to do, he felt the presence swirl to the point where the whimpering had ceased. He could feel it focusing itself, like a growing vortex, although Israel could not tell if the presence was drawing itself to the pain of the silent creature, or merely attempting to manifest itself.
Then, a soft voice swam through the air. It spoke low and precise, as it penetrated Israel’s mind with perfect clarity.
“Israel, you have suffered much. Trials that have left you broken and alone. Through it all, your senses have been keen, but a test of faith is not in what breaks the body. A true test is in what breaks the mind.”
As Israel listened, he felt the fear drain from his body, leaving only despair, clawing at his soul like a feral animal. He closed his eyes as the awful presence dissipated, his eyelids pushing hot tears down the stretched skin of his face. The light from the candle dimmed, until little more was left than a soft glow. Finally, the last speck of light died, plunging Israel into total darkness.
