Just what was that about?”
With one look, I’m warned tosilence
Or be thrown off a cliff
“What now?” I ask,
My throat unable to swallow…
“Now, I’m honestly notsure…”
Her tone unusually hallow
“I suppose we figure out where inthe hell we are…”
“But,” I begin “You’vebeen throughout the world,
Surely it’s not that hard.”
“All I can say for certain,
My foolish young pupil…”
She glares at me
“Is I’m really hurting
And it’s not even fruitful,”
Ouch, that’s a dagger
Straight to the heart
I’m so on the list
With no way off,
Until she’s willing to forgive
This is gonna be the tough part
“Judging by the seasonal change,”
She continues to dig in
“I’d say we’re inEurope…
Looks like you’ve brought us
Straight into the lion's den.”
“How many times can I apologize?”
Sadly, I know the answer
Simply by the look in her eyes
It’s more painful than perceivedcancer
“Not nearly enough.”
Her tone, quite concerning
“Even if you had years,
You’re not grasping it.
You really screwed up…
And this isn’t a matter oflearning.”
“So I didn’t have acontract,” I begin
“It was do or die.
There’s a lot of questions beingthrown around
And I’m not keeling over untilyou answer mine…”
“It’s because you didn’thave a contract
With the wind…”
Crap, she’s getting annoyed
“That - One: they can track us
And two: It’s an unforgivable sin
The wind will punish you
Without warning,
Most likely at the most inopportunetime.
It has no qualms, if you’resleeping or it’s morning…”
“Oh… Point taken.”
I sigh in reply
To which she responds
“I see a farm house. We’llhave to break in…”
“But shouldn’t we get onthe move?”
My question dumb when I hear it…
She looks at me and smirks
Of course, on the run 101
It’s to gather supplies andequipment
Not to mention
It’s a great way to throw offpursuers
Leave a false clue trail,
False witnesses make great viewers
They’ll tell our enemies onething,
The one we want them to
They’ll go left & we’llgo right
And we’ll be just a little lessscrewed
This is what it means
To be on the run
It’s not glamorous
And it’s not easy
But it’s quite a bit of fun
As we approach the farm house
I get a sickly feeling…
There’s a strong manna in thisplace
Someone’s recently done asealing…
“Uh, Jack?” I thus attemptto say
And suddenly, a blade at my neck
As I hear a child’s question:
“Papa, who are they?”
Trial7: The Toll
Falling lower, the red sun sinks
Around the table, I’ve yet toblink
This family of a father and son
Cynical of us, though I can’tblame
Something here, dark…
But not the same
Not evil… rather it’sancient
The mana the boy emits
Quite impatient…
It longs ever so
To be set free
In all honesty, it kinda scares me
“Forgive me for the rudewelcome.”
The father’s tone weary with pain
“We live ever vigilant,
Since the first moment theycame.
I denied fervently their suspicions.
Come to discover they were true,
That day in the kitchen…”
“If you don’t mind measking: what?”
My question sounding oh so impudent
Making me wish I could be more prudent
As the child sits upon the floor
Completely innocent, not a care in theworld
“My son…” So thefather begins,
“Is The Toll.”
Suddenly, the air becomes heavy
As if to a higher power, this is taboo
A discussion of this magnitude
The father’s face, sullen anddark
I’m unsure, but The Toll,
It sounds like he’ll have to playa part
In something grim
With dire repercussions
Akin to the apocalypse’sconstruction
“So, it’s the twelfthgeneration already.”
Jack states, her face unsteady
“I can see why they’d bescared
And want to take him into custody
Before any others dared.”
“So tell me, why are you on therun?”
The father’s skepticism
Second to none
“I’ve been judged of acrime I didn’t commit.”
I say pulling a chair and taking a sit
“So, I’m looking for a wayto clear my name.
It’s not looking promising ifthey have their way…”
“Is that so?” the fathersays with a smile
“Well, it’s not much, butfeel free to stay a while.”
“I’m afraid that would onlycause you problems…”
Jack states
As the man prepares dinner with extraplates
“We ourselves have remainedhidden
For quite some time.
I can promise you will be safein kind.”
The scent of his cooking,
More than I can bear
Apparently Jack too
As she finally pulls a chair
The rest of the evening
It proceeds, ever slow
This is a kindness I’ve neverknown
A stranger with problems all his own
Expressing hospitality to strangers
And opening his home
I didn’t realize such peopleexisted
We’ve only ever dealt withcriminals,
Thus the stigma persisted
Now I crave all the more
To know of my history
And my family’s lore
If only to think of what could’vebeen
If I had lived with they and them
After supper, I talk with the child
Despite his plight, he always smiles
“Mister, please let’s playa game.”
I simply can’t deny him
Knowing his pain
“So, what would you like toplay?”
I doubt they have much, living this way
“How about chess?” he asks,so eager
“Show me what you’ve got!”I respond
I want this to be something I canprotect
I ever want to become a believer
Four times in a row, he kicks my butt
I’m not letting him, he’sjust that tough
His intellect it’s far beyond
Anything a seven year old should becapable
Thinking now, we have a bond
May it forever be unbreakable…
“Mister please, let’s playagain.”
“Alright,” I say, with amassive grin
“And you don’t have to callme mister,
My name is Nate.
This time I’m gonna kick yourkeister.”
Hours pass as if time stopped
Finally, he falls asleep on the box
I head over to the kitchen
Where Jack and the father
Discuss his condition
“To think he must bear such aburden…
The thought of him being used forthat.”
Tears run down the father’s cheek
“Such is the fate of those bornby attack.”
Jack’s words, sympathy they lack
“I’m not sure what it’sall about,”
I interject, my words stout
“However, I can promise you this.
I’ll do everything in my power
To guarantee he lives.”
The father looks at me with eyes moist
“Who are you boy,
That I have this urge to trust you?”
“My name's Nate,
And I’m telling you the truth.”
Suddenly, booms a knock on the door
My palms, sweaty
I’m tense to my core…
“Quick, in the cellar!”
He says without pause
As beneath the floor we go,
Maneuvering against laws
Above us we hear
It all so very clear
“We have reports of judgedfugitives in this area.
I’m afraid we need to do a sweepof your home.”
Every fiber in me, guilt
Screaming to the bone
Trial8: Schemes
The footsteps echo from above
As we sit helpless as caged doves
“Check every room.” soundsthe man – An O.D.'s voice
I’m fearful
What will
