PREDESTINE | HIATUS

CHAPTER 3

I finally calmed down after an hour of letting it sink in and five beer bottles. By now I'm incoherent enough to let the issue rest for a while. Still sluggish on my feet, I drag my drunk, good for nothing self back upstairs to my room. Shutting the door behind me, I walk over to my bedside table and place the diary carefully in its top most drawer. I take a long look at the diary, ready to close the drawer and crash on my bed, but my attention is caught by a weathered piece of paper peeking out from its side. With gentle fingers I take it out and cautiously open it. There is only one line written on it, again in elegant script but this time not my mother's. My slurring brain could not decipher the meaning of even one word written on it so I read it out aloud hoping that the sound of it will make more sense to me, " Aye, et vocavi vos, et a vobis amatum amanti, quia venit hora, et nunquam praedicere." Well, it still sounded like gibberish.

I had read that sentence as slow as possible, pronouncing every syllable clearly but it still didn't make sense. Exasperated I threw the paper away, huffed and crashed on my bed. That's when it all happened;

Suddenly my dimly lit room burst with a striking blue light and an overpowering fragrance of blooming flowers, but it did not stay for long as it was soon overcome by a blood red haze with smoke and the smell of moist earth and greenery. I slowly got up from my bed in a stupor, my eyes widening with shock at the very unusual events taking place in my otherwise mundane room. The lamps dangling from my ceiling shook and the next thing I knew, my demure bookshelf had toppled over. From under the huge mess of books and maps came out a huge sigh followed by fits of coughing, "aye, you useless piece of immortal junk! Did your King train you to leave a sickly old lady coughing on the floor, especially one which you would be related to in the future!"

Ok... So that did sound like an old lady but not a sickly one. I still could not see her under the pile of books and I still couldn't make sense of anything going on in my room. It was an understatement to call this night long, it had grown and stretched and twisted with confusion and inexplicable events but still wasn't at its end.

" you spawn of the devil! You better drag your fat ass over hear and give me a hand or else I'm telling an over exaggerated version of this to Alex!" Oops! I zoned out again, but I'm pretty sure the old lady's rambling and cursing wasn't directed at me. Still, it's a human gesture to extend my hand to help the lady and I'm about to that only when I see another, much more muscular hand than mine, extend in vaguely the direction of the old lady. The haze and smoke gradually clears away giving way to the sight of a rather charming man with a rigid posture. He bends down, his arm still extended, and helps a surprisingly unscathed old lady out from the pile of fallen books. The image in front of me, of the man holding the hand of the old lady, is rather divine. The old lady has an aura of grace and power about her. She looks to be in her late seventies and is holding a cane which looks more like a sceptre than a walking stick. She has greying hair and a hunched back but somehow manages to radiate youth and confidence. Whereas, the man standing beside her towers over both her and me, at a height of about 6.5 ft. and has a rather rigid posture. He too radiates confidence but the idea of youth is lost to him. He has strikingly blonde hair and a pair of severe blue eyes which seem to have seen too much. He has an aura of intolerance and seems to be easily irritable. He is one of those people whose age could not be derived from mere looks and who you knew better not to mess with.

" ooh, so it's you, Gigolo, who came, I thought Alex would send someone smarter, someone like Joseph." The old woman coughed, again interrupting my chain of thought. At that the expression that came over the man's face was priceless, his voice and face both quite accurately conveyed the feeling of being supremely pissed, " how many times would I repeat myself, Marie, that I don't care who you are and that my name is Gilo not Gigolo!" I jolted with the force and harshness of his voice even though it wasn't directed at me; but the woman, Marie, seemed unfazed.