Prologue ~ Legends of Arboria

Ch. 5 ~ Legends of Arboria

The next morning, he awoke with the dream lingering in his head. He felt good and rested as this dream had not troubled his sleep. He sat up on the edge of the bed with his head down, looking at the floor. Morning was always his favorite time when he didn't have to be anywhere quick. He used that time to relax and just think about things in his life. Self-reflection is always a good exercise. It builds character. Someone told him that a long time ago but he couldn't remember who. He glanced over at the clothes he had laid out the night before. As much as he wanted to lie back down and settle back into normal life, something told him that he needed to do this. He wanted too. He got up and started getting dressed.

Normal is over-rated anyway.

He grabbed a cup of coffee before he left and stood in the kitchen sipping. On a spare yellow pad, he scribbled a note to his landlord. He felt bad for deserting the guy and leaving him saddled with all his junk but it's not like he was taking his truck where he was headed and there was no time to sell everything. He doubted his money was even used there anyway. Nope, it all had to stay. He didn't like breaking his lease either but, then again, he had a feeling he wouldn't be back any time soon. He sipped his coffee again. Good stuff. The coffee kept him sharp ... sharp as a knife!

That's what he had forgotten. He set the cup down on the counter and went back into his bedroom. He opened the top drawer in his dresser and dug to the bottom like a dog after a bone. He pulled out his six-inch double-sided boot knife that he had been given by the old gardener at the orphanage as a child. It was illegal so he didn't carry it but doubted that would be a problem where he was headed. He undid his belt and slipped it through the leather loop on the knife sheath and then refastened the belt. Nodding in approval of his reflection in the mirror, he snatched up his Bible and coffee and walked out the door with the rosary around his neck.

He stopped quickly and trotted back to the door. Setting the Bible and coffee down, he fished the note to his landlord he had jotted while sipping his coffee out of his back pocket and stuck it in the clippy on the door jam. Done. He stood there looking at the old beat up wood door of his amartment. The cheap tarnished numbers barely tacked to it hung there staring back at him. Three-thirty-six. He couldn't even remember how long he had been there anymore. He grinned and reached a finger up, turning the first number back upright again. It always hung upside down, had since the first day he moved in. He turned slowly and looked down the hall with its very out of date orangy shag carpet and peeling stained seventies wall paper. The partially burnt out neon sign just to the right of the cracked window at the end of the hall clicked off as the morning sun began coming through the dusty pane. He sighed, nodded to himself and made his silent departure.

It was still early when he pulled up to Brook's house. Nothing had changed. It still looked deserted. Lief looked around and glanced at the clock on the dash. Same time, same scene. This had a bit of a déjà-vu look to it. He laughed to himself and reached for a small canvas bag from the floor board and put his Bible and rosary inside it so they wouldn't get damaged. He also opened the glove box and grabbed a flashlight but stopped before putting it in the bag. He thought back to the previous day when he saw Gidrion light his pipe with a wave of his hand. Maybe he would be able to do that eventually and wouldn't really need a flashlight. An interesting thought, indeed. He reached back down and put it back into the glove box and shut it. Rising back up, Aris was sitting on the hood right in front of him and made him jump.

"I wish you'd quit that sneaky stuff!" he said, getting out and giving the cat a dirty look.

He struck off towards the door and Aris promptly followed. With his bag slung around his shoulder, he tried the door handle as he was told. It was open. He stepped inside and Aris pranced in and disappeared quickly. Shutting the door, he listened to see if he could hear her moving around somewhere. No sound but the steady whirring of the ceiling fan. She was probably out back on the porch with her needlepoint.