The Trials Of Osiris Akil Novello

Chapter One ● 1982

The long, wiry thread of Auburn hair is what stuck out most on the man's sandy head. The ends of his hair barely scraping his shoulders. He was young-- mid twenties perhaps --with lean features and dark purple bags that drooped beneath his eyes. His cheek bones stuck out just a tad too much, hinting that he might be malnourished.

Despite the gushing winds of the early March weather, he stood with his back against the drug store window in only a zip up jacket. The chucks he wore were once red, now stained brown from years of wandering. He tapped his heels together with anxiety.

With his eyes locked on the street corner, he lit another cigarette-- his eighth one of the hour. The faint glow from the cherry gave him the false illusion of warmth, keeping him from caving and waiting inside.

If his mother had known he smoked like this, he currently wouldn't be standing out there. She was heavily against smoking and would have sooner died than try it. He thought of home, too, and how the distant view of trees on the eastern Oregon mountains reminded him of it. It reminded him of his village, his friends, his family. The neighbor's dog that always went out of its way to greet him with a never-stopping stub of a tail and slobbery kisses. John Day was just as small, but still not home, and on the exact opposite side of the country from Vermont.

His heart seemed to multiply in its cage as a woman rounded the corner, each new heart beating faster than the last. With nervous, labored breaths he tucked himself in, trying desperately to go unnoticed... though he knew he needed this. He needed everything she could provide.

She stood out from everyone else. While passerby wore straight-legged jeans and heavy coats, she wore skinny jeans and nothing to keep her warm.

Her voice was crisper than he had anticipated. "Why are you trying to hide yourself when you're the one who asked me here?"

Her lips were black. Obviously painted with makeup but somehow so sable he couldn't see the cracks of the skin as she spoke. She wore dark makeup around her eyes too, and had a little metal ring in one nostril.

"I'm not." He replied, putting his cigarette out on the sidewalk and flicking the rest into the street.

"What is it about me that makes you so nervous? I'm just a small town girl, nothing special." The glint in her eye said otherwise but he kept his mouth shut. He found it odd that one eye shown less than the other.

Instead he asked, "should we move to another location?"

Without a reply she began walking, god knows where to. His knees nearly gave out from nerves but he followed suit.

"After all that trouble of getting in contact with me, you could at least tell me your name," She began, "where you're from. What's your story?"

"I-- uh," he struggled to form any coherent sentences. "Salem. I'm Salem."

"Like the trials."

"My mom picked it. She was a magician with a sense of humor."

Salem stepped over a puddle on the sidewalk, and in its reflection he swore he couldn't see her.

She hummed with approval. "Are you from Massachusetts, too?"

"Er, Vermont, actually. Where are you from?"

He was starting to relax a bit, but his shoulders still felt tense.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

He was taken aback, but pushed on. "A little bit, yeah. I want to know who my teacher is."

She stopped suddenly and turned. "Teacher." She inquired, crossing her arms. "You think I'm going to be your teacher."