Beatrice
Book I:
In Destiny's Hold
Prologue: July, 2008
Joanna Horowitz,
December 19th, 1970
to
April 17th, 2000
here lies a loving wife and mother,
she will be deeply missed by all who knew her.
This is how my mother's tombstone reads verbatim. Although I had stared at it and had read it constantly in the weeks following her demise in order to get myself more acquainted with her fate, I found myself reading it again. Either out of respect for her memory or to redeem myself for lack of visitation these past several years, I felt a great unwavering sorrow in the pit of my empty stomach.
I had come to the cemetery nearly five years after having left my world to see what had changed there-- if anything, and to visit the graves of my parents before I was to leave once again. I knew that time was my enemy as I had very little left. Although it was a sad occasion that conjured up many images and memories within me, it was nonetheless a happy one as I had made a somewhat triumphant return home. I was alive-- scarred, yes, by everything I had endured within the last decade, but it also had made me stronger on the whole. I had returned in order to begin defending the world I loved so from people whose aims were to destroy it, and others of the like.
The wind whistled through the trees; a low, mournful tune. I shivered despite the sweater I'd wrapped around me as a precaution and returned my attention to the grave. "I'm back, Mom," I tried to smile but settled for a slight frown, "I had to come back to tell you how much I love you-- still. And that I'm sorry for what's happened: to Dad-- to me. And above all, to tell you that I'll get him… I'll get the no-good bastard who did this-- the one who put you in this hole."
At this point, the wind ceased its howling, and silence fell. Words jumbled in my throat but I decided it best to stifle them-- for now. I would try to return. A single tear fell from my eye and lazily slid down my cheek, and onto the green grass that covered the spot where she was buried. "I love you, Mom," and feeling awkward, I bent my head slightly forward to kiss the tombstone; a lousy substitute for the cheek that had always felt like spring.
It'll be dark soon, I realized due to the sudden darkening of the skies, You must leave before dark…
Still sniffling, I turned to the tombstone beside it, expecting my father's… I was, however, mistaken. It was my grandmother's, which meant that in the near five years I had been gone, I had lost her as well. I scanned the tombstone; she had died sometime in 2004. My father's mother, she had died sometime in 2004. The only family member I had was lost to me. I was completely alone now. No matter. Maybe it was better this way; knowing that no one else I loved could be added to the growing list of the dead. She had loved my mother as her own; it was no wonder she'd requested to be buried near her in death. Poor woman; she'd never been quite the same.
I glanced at the tombstone on my mother's other side; already knowing whose name was written in that unmistakable scrawling, dead print-- just as dead as the rotting corpse that now lay within the tomb. However, I had to see it. I had to make sure. As predicted, it belonged to my father, and it read:
James Horowitz
September 14th, 1968
to
July 22nd, 2003
Unlike my mother's this tombstone was completely new and alien to me. The marble on which the epitaph had been carved was more than half the size of its neighbor. That figured, as his second wife had squandered away most of his money during their unexpected courtship. I reached out a slightly trembling hand, and touched the marble. It felt cold as ice, and seeing it now brought about such a great wave of emotions that I cried out-- as if from fear-- as if from pain. I leaned over, and kissed the tombstone; the only way I was sure of how to say goodbye…
The sun sank deeper beneath the trees; the day sure had flitted away quickly. If I wanted to accomplish anything, I should leave before night smothered me like a dark cloud. Before making another successful disappearance, there was one slight imperative matter that should be taken care of.
I readied myself for the worse; expecting it, I looked at the tombstone on his other side. It belonged to none other than me. I was legally dead. Tears rolled down my eyes without my being able to control them. Without predicting it, nearly everything had changed here. But it did not matter; my supposed death was of little importance to the journey ahead of me. As long as I was truly alive, things had the possibility of righting themselves in the end. I did not need anyone or anything to guide me now. I had myself. That was enough.
And so, I stood up; looked towards the setting sun in the distant western skies, turned my back on the row of tombstones, and left the cemetery headed to-- to-- God knows where.