The Serialization of Sacred Vow: The Void

photo by Señor Taco

Sacred Vow is a metaphysical novel about a man who responds to the mysterious call of a woman, opening the way to redefinition of both himself and his understanding of the world around him. He takes his first steps on a journey to accept the world around him as a place to live, not simply a place to survive day-to-day. Sacred Vow is both a narrative and the means for the author to communicate a positive message about life and fully integrating the most into each moment. Highly recommended—Midwest Book Review

Installment 21 of 22 of the serialization of Sacred Vow (Dragon’s Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical).

The Void

Nothing unfolded. The densest black veil swallowed Ian, smothering every sensation.

He waited patiently for images to appear, hoping he was in time to help Katerina retrieve her baby. Transition between consciousness in Ian’s physical world and his parallel lives had been taking longer recently. But after a few minutes of nothing, he could not remain patient.

“Come on,” Ian tried to scream, “before he hurts her!”

He heard no scream, felt no sensation in his vocal cords. Instead, he felt a physical—or at least neural—sensation of something being drained from him—whatever he was in that dark place.

The sensory deprivation under this shroud of absolute black was both internal and external. His mind twisted about, trying to cope with no sensations at all. It soon became uncomfortably obvious to Ian that his mind had never before been without some form of sensory input. Even when one is asleep there is a steady flow of messages, if only from the body’s involuntary functions.

Ian wondered what his body was doing. He had never been aware of any bodily sensations from his primary reality when visiting before, but this was not one of the ordinary reality shifts. In a usual shift, it was possible, Ian imagined, that he continued to receive messages from his body back home but was always distracted because of what was happening in the visit. He seemed now to be lost somewhere between his primary reality and the place he hoped he would visit soon.

Or, he thought, maybe this place is just a different reality, one that I’m having a harder time than usual comprehending. Maybe I just have to let go of my preconceived expectations.

It dawned on Ian that this place might not have been where he originally intended to go, but Katerina might well be here anyway.

What he was sure of was that Katerina in that last world needed him. He had to go back there. No matter how he tried to ignore it, Ian knew he was going to have to accept that even a reduced time frame between trips would not help him return to a previous life.

He wanted to flail about and curse, but the void he was in had sucked all anger out of him. Instantly, he had a sensation of collapse where anger should have been, and he felt all the more exhausted for it. More than exhausted. Diminished. As if his existence was less certain than it had been a moment before. The threat of losing not only his life but his entire existence to this void was filling Ian with a unique sense of fear.

No matter how much Ian wanted to help that unfortunate manifestation of Katerina, he had to accept the possibility that he might not even be able to help himself. Every emotion or thought he experienced seemed to take away more of his life energy.

The loss of energy from his feelings was worse than that of thought. Ian decided to clamp down on any emotion. Each time he got upset, he experienced an excruciating void in its place. Thus he knew he could not afford to allow himself to feel anything. So, he used the process of releasing emotion that he learned in his mediation practice. Just let it go, he told himself, breathe in . . . It was easier when he’d had the sensation of breathing to focus on.

Suddenly from nowhere, Ian was blindsided by a new rush of fear. What if I am dead? His emotions took off running. And the backlash of the emptiness that followed was unbearable.

“O-o-oh hell-ll,” he wailed.

Just then, Ian realized something positive. If he was hurting, he was not dead! For the first time ever, he was thankful he could feel pain. It allowed him to release the fear and drift in the void.

Thought did not have as negative an effect, Ian had noticed. He had only a slight twinge of pain after a thought.  Still, he had to ration his activity. He decided that he had better focus any thought on getting himself out of whatever he had gotten into.

Ian was sure he had to be lost in-between. Djalma had warned him it could happen. “You could get lost in the transition,” Djalma had said. So, here he was, no good to Katerina or to himself.

Ian searched for an answer. Was there something else Djalma had said that might be helpful? He is a smart one, that Djalma, Ian thought. If he thought something would be useful, he would probably have repeated the phrase or idea more than a time or two.

His mind was proving particularly intolerant of limited sensory input. Ian’s thoughts alone were not providing enough stimuli. This had to be what it felt like to die, awareness collapsing in on itself.

But there had to be something Djalma had repeated most. He would have done that. He would have tried to prepare me without being pushy, Ian thought.

Then Ian remembered: the Vow! Djalma had said to remember the Vow!

“Think on the Vow,” he told himself. “It doesn’t matter if it makes sense.”

Who could know about the Vow, except Katerina? Thinking of not being able to help her and her child caused Ian to feel pain again. For feeling that flash of sympathy, he suffered another ripping sensation of the void.

As loud as he could muster, he recited the Vow:

I offer this Sacred Vow to you alone. If ever you are in need, expect me to reach beyond possibility and take your hand. As you feel the warmth of our bond, know that you will never be forgotten, never be alone, and never be without this one enduring love.

Over and over, Ian repeated the Vow to himself. The rhythm of the verse was hypnotizing. Ian noticed that the darkness seemed slightly less oppressive.

Blurry light broke through to his eyes. A shadow appeared in front of him—a figure leaning over as to touch his head. It was the Katerina of the tea visions. Ian yearned to touch her . . . and he did not feel the pain of losing a part of himself!

“Oh, Ian, what have you done to yourself?” she said. “Go home and be healed. This is very dangerous for us. Come back to me when your spirit has recovered, dear one.” She fanned some herbal smoke across him, and Ian lost consciousness.

When he woke up, Ian saw that he was in his study, and that it was sometime during the day. Judging from the light in the windows, it was around midday. It had been early evening, right after work, when Ian had first entered into the meditation. He could not see a clock or even manage to raise his watch arm, so he didn’t know if it was the next day, or some day following. What he did know was that he was miserable.

Lying flat on the couch in his study, he tried to move. He knew he needed food, but the pain from the first attempt to stir almost made him sick. He gritted his teeth and tried to hold on to his awareness, but he could not. He blacked out again.

Next week is the Final Installment of the serialized portion of Sacred Vow, Woodland Soup

copyright 2006 CG Walters

Thank you for your continued support.

Blessings, dear ones,

CG

CG Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves  and our lives.

Autographed/signed copies of his current novel, Sacred Vow, are available from the author– or purchase from Amazon as  ebook , paperback, or Kindle version

Receive new editions of Into the Mist through a reader  http://feeds.feedburner.com/IntoTheMist

Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, Gaia, Myspace, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg

Dangerous Choice

photo by h.koppdelaney

C.G. Walters wrote a compelling tale of the inter-dimensional meeting of a couple, overcoming the boundaries of the physical world and defying the three dimensional laws of science as we know it. In these times of spiritual awakening we are all (well many, many souls on earth) experiencing this concept does not seem as far fetched as it would in the past. I warmly recommend this book to all those who have fascination, as I do, for all things metaphysical, and the interaction between different potentials of different worlds. I have read of mediums and psychics who can “go behind the veil” see a whole set of different “potentials”, a scenario that is very confusing for us humans.

In “The Sacred Vow” C.G. Walters “went behind the veil” and conjured a magical reality of two lovers, their two souls coming together in different potentials, lives and worlds.

So, I’d like to congratulate C.G. Walters on his masterpiece and encourage the publication and warm acceptance of behalf of the reading public of this book and others of the genre that expands our minds and leads us through new exciting horizons.—Yael Oren Lewis, painter/translator

Installment 20 of 22 of the serialization of Sacred Vow (Dragon’s Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical).

Dangerous Choice

Ian did not like what he saw and felt when he arrived in the next parallel life. If it had been an option, he would have gone right back to his couch; better an ordinary day after work than where he found himself. It was hard to imagine that this place had anything to do with Katerina, or with any time they had spent together.

He was moving through filthy, stinking streets filled with huge numbers of poor, destitute people without resource or hope. He could hear many sounds in this world, mostly a cacophony of voices—too many voices—sorrowful, angry, and suffering. The voices drowned out even the sounds of machines and big-city racket.

Ian’s point of view seemed to move too fast, and he was too high to be seeing from the eyes of a person. He watched from significantly above the heads of the people below, as if through the lens of a camera guided by some intention unknown to him. Why was he here?  Was Katerina in this reality at all?

Then his point of view began to lower. He turned a corner and slowed as a tattered woman carrying a baby came out of a dilapidated building just in front of him. Ian resisted admitting it, but an all too reliable intuition assured him that this was Katerina. Oddly, he had no feelings of curiosity whatsoever as to the identity of the child. If the child was his and Katerina’s, this would be the first alternate life in which they were parents. But what a place to raise a child!

Ian drifted behind and somewhat above Katerina. She was hurrying along as if she were being pursued. Since Ian seemed to be disembodied, he did not believe it could be he, whatever he was, who troubled her.

She spoke to the child. Her language was foreign, but Ian was not surprised that he understood her. He had become accustomed to this. Despite all the overwhelming babble of the people on the street, he was tuned into her alone.

“Don’t worry, Eestu. Momma will find a place where he cannot hurt us,” she said.

Perhaps because the baby was being jostled as Katerina rushed away, perhaps because it could feel its mother’s distress, the child began to whimper.

“Sh-ssshh, baby. It’s going to be all right. I’ll get you food soon.”

The mother and child also had to contend with hunger? Ian definitely did not want to see this. But once he knew this was Katerina, he could not wish to leave. Even if he tried, it never appeared that Ian had a choice about when to leave or what do to once he entered into these parallel lives.

The baby continued to be bumped about, as the mother tried to force her way through the crowds. All the people were as dirty and ragged as she was. Some cursed her as she pushed by them. Once, someone struck out at Katerina as she moved past. Ian tried to lunge to her defense, but his bodiless self left him unable to pursue the desire.

Why am I here? he demanded of himself. I cannot interact with Katerina. I cannot help her.

Just below Ian, entering his field of vision, two men were walking up behind Katerina very quickly. Ian was terrified that they intended to harm her.

Katerina had obviously expected someone to follow her. As the men forced their way through the crowds, people responded angrily. When the men got closer, Katerina saw them and tried to run, but the wandering crowds held her back. All she did was bounce off the back of the man in front of her.

She abruptly turned down an alley. It was less congested and allowed her to run.

Of course, as soon as her pursuers got to the same alley, they were also able to speed up. Still Ian followed, now behind the men chasing her. A hungry woman carrying a baby could not have outrun them for long, even if a huge pile of trash had not blocked the entire alley a little further down.

The baby was screaming now, as loud as it could. Katerina tried running up the pile but slipped back down. She backed up against the wall and tried to use it for support to climb. Still she slid down on the loose rubble as the men approached confidently. They were no longer in a hurry, knowing she could not escape.

Ian’s own movement was slowed in response, but his emotions were rampant. He felt her panic as if it were his own. He thrashed about within the uncontrollable restrictions of his invisible confinement as desperately as Katerina did below.

Forced to accept that she could not overcome the pile, Katerina turned and dashed toward her pursuers. As she ran she added her own tormented wail to that of the baby’s. Her pursuers laughed, delighted at her suffering.

The larger of the men stepped to one side, as if he would let Katerina go by. Just as she saw the opening and moved toward it, he grabbed the arm that held the baby and jerked her toward him. It was amazing she did not drop her little bundle, given the force he used.

“And just where d’ya think ya’re going? Thought ya would slip away without paying Mr. Chen-ye what he’s owed?”

“Leave her alone!” Ian yelled, heard by no one but himself. The dim light that filtered into the alley began to flicker.

Katerina was looking only at her baby, trying anxiously to soothe its fears, speaking first softly to the child. “Shh, Eestu, Sh-h-h.” Then she raised her face to respond to her attacker. “I’m going to get food for my baby. You can see that she is hungry.”

The smaller man responded, “You got no money to pay. Where ya gonna get food? Maybe you were shopping at the alley mission here?” He laughed nastily, looking at the larger man for approval.

Defiant and trying to maintain her dignity, Katerina jerked her arm to free it from the big man’s grip.

“Let go of me!”

He raised the back of his other hand, to slap her. Ian fought to intervene, but could not overcome his limitations.

The large hand froze in the air. Then he slowly lowered it and said, “There’s no hurry for this. First, ya tell how ya’re going to pay what is owed.”

Katerina looked with horror, at one man then at the other. She clutched the baby all the tighter. “My husband, he took Mr. Chen-ye his due this morning. He left out just before I did.”

“Husband? What husband?” said the big man.

“The baby’s Da—” she shot out. “—My husband has what’s due.”

Ian suspected the mid-morning skies were as clear as they probably ever got, considering the air was dense with smog and stench, but even that limited light was wavering in the alley.

The smaller man snorted. “How about that, Ammon? She’s got a husband.” Showing his contempt for her hope, he spat on the street near Katerina’s ragged semblance of a shoe. “There ain’t no marriage on the streets.”

Stroking the baby, she said stubbornly, “I have a husband! Just because you didn’t see him—”

The larger man jerked Katerina’s arm again, demanding her attention to their business. “Forget that craziness! Something is owed and no husband has paid it.”

Katerina was crying silently. Tears left tracks down her dirty cheeks.

Ian lunged for the larger man, hoping against hope that the tension building within him would translate into effect. But he was denied once again.

Katerina was stroking the child and mumbling to herself. “He won’t forget. He’s always with us.” Over and over, she repeated this. The chant was starting to annoy her captor.

“Shut up, you! Listen to me!” To get her attention, he jerked her arm again, harder, shaking her whole body side to side, but she seemed scarcely aware of what was happening. Then everything went black and silent.

“What the . . . ?” Ian screamed.

He fought to see, but with no physical eyes, there was no place to direct his focus. Then, just as suddenly, the vicious nightmare in the alley was back.

“Ya only got one thing worth somethin’,” the larger man continued. He applied his free hand to the baby daughter that Katerina held. “You’re too feeble to work, in the alleys or ‘Under,’ but the baby—”

His companion took the cue and grabbed Katerina by her shoulders. The two men began to separate her from her only interest in life. The small man pulled her arms back while Ammon, slowly, but effectively, pried the baby from her hands. Now her cooing chant rose into a piercing scream. Her lungs were strong enough. The sound she made quickly irritated her attackers. Ammon yanked the baby from her grasp and shoved her to the ground.

The two men turned to leave with their payment.

Ian managed a quick movement toward the men. Finally, he could help her! But all went black again. Katerina’s cursing screams went dead. And Ian could hear nothing.

Then the screams shot through his nervous system once again and Ian saw Katerina kicking the huge man in the back of his knees.

“Give me my baby, you bastard!” There followed a jumble of words spewing out too emotionally to be completely formed. Most of what came from her mouth was nothing but the unintelligible sounds of a suffering soul.

Ian managed another convulsive move, but he could not sufficiently direct it.

Katerina’s feet did little but make the man hunch his shoulders in anger. He slowly handed the howling baby to his companion, who grinned excitedly. Then the larger man turned and drew back a foot to kick her.

Before the kick was released, Ian experienced complete darkness and then a blast of light. But, the light was the light of his own home. He was sitting on the couch. A roar forced its way out of his mouth. The cry was not merely due to his frustration, but in response to the physical pain that shot through his nervous system.

Coming back from the trip so abruptly, Ian felt like he had been slammed at high speed into something solid. His body felt broken in many places; and his spirit was still bleeding for Katerina’s defeat. He tried to rise from the couch. But before he got all the way to his feet, he fell back again, about to lose consciousness from the pain that still surged through him.

Ian had to fight hard not to lose the light again. This was his primary reality, and he had some control here. He would not allow himself simply to black out! Waves of faintness battered him. The throbbing in his body was working against him.

“Katerina,” he shouted, “I am coming back!” Ian could not accept that there was nothing he could do for her. He had to try again to help her. Despite Djalma’s warnings, Ian was determined to force himself back into the transfer immediately. There was no time to wait. Maybe his inability to return to the same location was a matter of temporal proximity. Ian feared that if he waited for his spirit to recoup and recalibrate, the next shift would take him someplace else.

He had a fleeting sensation of being connected to her again, and he grabbed it. Instantly he felt a shift in his consciousness. Either he passed out or he was successful in projecting himself into back-to-back visits. He could only wait to see what sight unfolded in front of him.

Continued next week, The Void

copyright 2006 CG Walters

Thank you for your continued support.

Blessings all,

CG

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves  and our lives. Autographed/signed copies of his current novel, Sacred Vow, are available from the author– or purchase from Amazon as  ebook , paperback, or Kindle version

Receive new editions of Into the Mist through a reader  http://feeds.feedburner.com/IntoTheMist

Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, Gaia, Myspace, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg

Djalma (cont’d 3)

Photo by h.koppdelaney

Mr. Walters conveys the reality of mystical worlds and our interaction with them very eloquently.  He states that there is “one true love in its infinite expression,” meaning there is one connection, above all others that can make us feel whole, like our full selves. This book is highly recommended for the reader seeking a love story that knows no limits. As a metaphysical novel, one can expand their views of worlds and civilizations existing with us, and how we may affect those close to us with or without our knowledge.

“Sacred Vow” is highly recommended, and a sequel would be much welcomed. —Catherine Phelps for Reader Views

Installment 14 of 22 of the serialization of Sacred Vow (Dragon’s Beard Publishing, ISBN: 978-0-9774271-4-7, paperback, Fiction: Visionary/Metaphysical).

Djalma (continued3)

It had been several months since the experience of the tense return from the visit with Katerina. Ian didn’t recall right away what had been going on at the time. As best he could remember, it was just like the months that had preceded it. He spent his days with computers at work, went out with friends, came home, and then did this all over again. Ian’s initial memories of those uneventful times were faint. He had been a little preoccupied with more recent concerns.

Trying to think what may have had a terrible effect on his paranormal teas, he tried to summon unpleasant memories.

Actually, Ian had to admit that things had been going particularly well through that period of life. Work, his friends, all seemed to be going through a positive phase. His time working and socializing had been carefree and happy.

Just as Ian was about to throw up his hands in defeat, he remembered a project member at work whom he’d found particularly irksome. It was not that the person ever did anything that truly warranted such feelings. This fellow was just one of those people whom Ian always felt conflict with, even when they agreed.

“I’ve got it. Dixon Peerit! For the whole time I worked with him, I felt a strange tension.”

“There is a way, Ian, to get a little better idea if your contact with this person had the type of consequence we’re looking for. It sounds like you’ve probably had a previous experience similar to what I’m suggesting. This is something like a guided meditation. It’s not hypnosis, just a method of relaxation to help you focus on a subject. It will allow me to get a feeling for your subconscious mind’s assessment of Dixon. So, if you’re willing, get comfortable and close your eyes.”

Certain they were on the verge of a solution, Ian closed his eyes without hesitation. “Ready.”

“Just relax,” Djalma said. “The first thing you have to do is to let go of all your conscious beliefs about what has caused a change in the visits.”

Djalma was silent, and Ian made every effort to let go of his hope that they were about to find the reason his visits had become distorted.

“Now, slowly, breathe deeply into your diaphragm, not your lungs. Hold that breath. Slowly, breathe out.”

After a few minutes of this, Djalma asked him to remember Dixon. Despite instructions, Ian had already been revving up this memory. In his mind, Dixon was inextricably guilty as the source of Ian’s misfortune.

Djalma peacefully coached Ian: “Bring up the memory of Dixon. Release any thought of him, but hold the image.

“Hold it. No thought, just hold the image.”

As soothing as Djalma’s voice and instructions were, Ian was ready to jump into action when Djalma said, “Okay, now let the image go, and we are going to come back to full awareness . . .

“Breathe deeply, and open your eyes when you are comfortable.”

Ian stared at Djalma, anxious to hear his conclusion.

“It’s not him,” Djalma said when he opened his eyes.

“Are you certain? That guy used to give me the worst feelings—”

Djalma cut him off. “And there might have been a good reason, but it seems as soon as he left your project, you were no longer concerned with him.”

True, Dixon had not crossed Ian’s mind since he was moved to another project area.

“You’re certain?” Ian was having a hard time letting go of his hope that the only unpleasantness he could recall during that time was the answer to the problem.

“I’m certain. Dixon did not have a lasting effect on your consciousness, and that would have been the only way another person could affect the journey through you. We’ll have to try again.”

Shaking his head, Ian said, “There’s nothing. It was a particularly good time in my life.”

“That does not preclude the type of effect we are looking for, Ian. You should also be trying to remember anything you found uncommonly pleasant or enjoyable during that time. It could be an impressive or exceptionally agreeable person whom you had just met, or a wonderfully satisfying experience that happened shortly before that time. It could even be new music you had just discovered, something that had an unusual impact.”

It seemed like an odd request. Look for the good as the root of the bad? Ian just sat there in disbelief.

After a few minutes he began searching for the best, not the worst, of his memories of that time a few months earlier.

“Of course, there are always new songs on the radio,” Ian offered.

“Any that you continued to listen to once they were not played on the radio or that changed your musical tastes?”

“No . . . there were movies that I saw and enjoyed, but none I’ve given much thought to since.”

They went through everything Ian had done for several months leading up to the first unpleasant experience. Ian was almost regretting that he had such a precise memory and that he had so many good things to remember. By the time Djalma was finished, Ian was beginning to grow weary of that stretch of time, which he had just remembered as so satisfying.

Djalma latched onto Ian’s mention of a fellow who was the team leader of the same project that he’d worked on with Dixon, Peter (pronounced Pay-ter) Rostich. Ian assured Djalma that was a dead end, but Djalma was having none of it. The more tribute Ian paid to Peter, the more adamant Djalma became.

Peter was one of those people everyone liked, a natural leader. He could get any member of his team to do just what he needed done. It seemed to be a talent that he had always had. No matter how much he asked of a person, that person felt it was no more than was reasonable, and Peter always showed his appreciation of his or her cooperation.

Even outside work, Peter was an exceptionally interesting individual. It seemed he must have begun to pursue his many interests when he was very young. He was musically talented, proficient in violin, piano, and several other instruments. Hanging from his office wall was evidence of considerable talent in acrylic painting, pen and ink, and digital art. He had used his very keen mind to become proficient in each media—and it seemed, many other accomplishments—one by one.

Peter loved his wife, adored his kids, and was dedicated to his community. Ian admired Peter’s way of looking at life; he believed Peter “had his heart in the right place.”

So Ian had to admit the positive experience of meeting Peter had stayed with him longer than his negative feelings about Dixon. One doesn’t meet such admirable people that often, he thought. But he could not imagine how that positive experience could have brought on such unpleasantness.

“Djalma, to be honest,” Ian finally said, “I don’t like the idea that something satisfying might set off dreadful experiences.”

Djalma’s look was disarmingly kind. “Peter didn’t cause the change. Bad results are not inherent in good things. Your experience is just the product of an accident. The energetic signature of your tea environment was perfect for the outcome you achieved and desired. Any significant alteration was going to make a change. It so happened that this time the resulting change was undesirable.

“Remember, few people, not even you in most cases, are likely to encounter such a doorway and generally have no need for concern. It was not meeting Peter that made the difference but rather his continued effect on you, your perceptions, and therefore your energetic signature. But this is assuming that Peter is the element we are looking for. If you’ll close your eyes and relax again, we’ll know soon enough.”

They went through the guided meditation process again. Several times Djalma asked Ian to hold onto the vision of Peter. Ian could not excite much faith in this pursuit, and the image faded. He was glad to have met such a person, glad there were people like Peter in the world, but Ian had no desire, then or before, to spend time visualizing Peter.

Finally, Djalma told Ian to release the image and come back to an alert state.

Ian sat silently this time, looking into Djalma’s eyes. Djalma had somewhat of a dazed look. For several minutes he just sat without speaking or blinking, barely breathing. When the trance broke, a smile spread over Djalma’s face, and he pulled from his pocket an ornate metal disk, about the size of a fifty-cent piece. He handed it to Ian, saying, “Take this into the room with you for your next tea.”

Ian turned the token over and over, enjoying the artwork of it, without making any comment or asking any questions. There was something innately reassuring about having the item in his palm. He could hear Djalma taking in one long, slow breath after another.

“Your response to Peter is what we were looking for. It had a positive impact on your spirit, but it also changed your vibration, and therefore it changed the portal for your reality shifts. I’m expecting the token to counterbalance that change.”

Ecstatic at the prospect, Ian rose immediately to his feet, almost knocking his head on the ledge of books above him. Clutching the token, which felt like his salvation, Ian hurriedly expressed his appreciation. “Thank you, Djalma. This is wonderful! Thank you, so much!”

Ian reached down, shook Djalma’s hand longer than he needed to, and pulled Djalma to his feet. Mixing goodbyes with more gratitude, he hardly let Djalma speak again. He was too eager to try Djalma’s solution. Besides, those herbs cooking on the stove had become a little too intense for his comfort.

As Ian made his way quickly through the woods toward his car, Djalma called from the porch, “Find out why you and she are in contact.”

Later, during his drive, Ian felt bad about the hurried, even discourteous, way he had fled from the meeting with Djalma. He had been able to tell from Djalma’s several attempts to speak that there was more to tell about this solution than Ian gave Djalma time to do so.

The truth was that Ian did not care to hear about any possible side effects or be given any precautions. He felt like he had a reprieve from a terminal disease. Anything that might happen had to be better than what he had been experiencing.

Continued next week, Parallels

copyright 2006 CG Walters

Thank you for your continued support.

Blessings all,

CG

C.G. Walters primarily writes fiction that focuses on the multidimensionality of our loves and our lives.

Autographed/signed copies of his current novel, Sacred Vow, are available from the author– or purchase from Amazon as ebook , paperback, or Kindle version

Receive new editions of Into the Mist through a reader http://feeds.feedburner.com/IntoTheMist

Please join me as a friend at any of my other favorite hangouts: Facebook, Gaia, Myspace, StumbleUpon, Friendfeed, Twitter, Plurk, or Digg