Divine Intervention

"Somebody asked 'What's the meaning of jazz?' and I said 'We're the misfits, and all I can tell you is while you're still sleeping, the saints are still weeping, because those things you call dead haven't yet had the chance to be born.'"

-John Paul Larkin

Before I Leave The Line-Up, There's Just One Thing I'd Like To Know...

How do I begin such a short tale?

How do I drag it out without seeming to do so? How do I make this tale without wanting? How?

An introduction? A falsified statement? Should I start with a statement that is true only to me, but no more than a fool's ramble to others?

My name is Sam. Sam Stone. I'm twenty-two years old, and... yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm dead.

Heh... see? I still can't get it started.

Had this been a story I wanted to tell to anyone that I see in passing; that is, those that at my initial resurrection made me consider the possibility that I was dreaming... I'd go on and omit that whole "I'm dead" thing.

How did I die? I was a soldier. I was a Corporal, and I'd been in service since I was nineteen.

Fourteen confirmed kills in my career, and eleven of those had been made on my final mission. Most of my kills were from a safe distance. My last ultimately resulted in my own death. I was held back just a little too long.

I'd like to say I sacrificed myself for my squad, but that's not the case, and if this whole prayer/confession is really going to be read by those who I want to read it, lying is out.

We were organizing a tactical retreat. We lost no men at the time of the order, but the enemy was growing in numbers and firepower. Dogtag collection would have been an issue sooner or later, and we organized a throwback to our LZ for a rendevous with reinforcements.

As far as I know, I was the only KIA. I got tackled by some random fool, and he stabbed me in the stomach... or at least, the blade hit close to my stomach.

I didn't die of the stab wound. Before he could pull his knife and try again, I'd reached up and finger fucked his eyes.

Hey, there really wasn't another way to explain it. This guy kept me occupied a little too long. I don't know if it was another bullet or a lucky mortar round that took me out. Might've been both.

Had it been the latter, there would be no dogtags. Maybe some fabric or charred helmet left, but if it was a direct hit, no dogtags.

I killed eleven people in that one day (and I count the guy I blinded because I recall shooting him in the head with my assault rifle before my own demise).

That's essentially my story in a nutshell. As far as those I know in passing are concerned, my name is Sam, and I'm a traveller that until recently had a severe alcohol addiction and no home to speak of. Because I'm fucking dead.

This is not heaven. This is not damnation. It's almost a second chance. I don't know the rules of this universe (and I don't even know if the word "universe" applies anymore), but it's innate. I'm dead and I'm alive. I have two hearts, and only one beats.

One Thing Led To Another, And Soon I Discovered Alcohol, Gambling, Dope...

Dave drinks Don down under the Dented Dopey Desk.

Say it five times fast.

Most people don't understand why I drank if it made me miserable.

Oh, who the hell am I kidding? Of course they do. They just want to hear me say it.

Drinking makes me forget. Alcohol makes me almost happy. Sake... or Sakè...

...Sâke? Sakey? Sah-KAY? I don't know. Ethnocentrism's a bitch. The point is, I got used to the taste of Sakè (eh, what the hell) during R&R.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm in Nippon because I loved to go to Japan (most of the people I met there were very nice to me, whereas I almost got into four barfights in Hamburg, I got spat on in Paris, and I almost got run over by someone in Rome). I didn't exactly love the Sakè in Japan, but in Nippon, it's either Sakè, water, or piss, or even Sakè mixed with piss. I call it "Victory Gin".

When I first woke up here in Nippon, I was lost. When I started piecing together clues, I was lost. When I considered the possibility that I was indeed dead, I was lost.

Nothing made sense to me except prices. For 300 Yen I could have a good night's rest in a bottle. Some nice lady gave me a free sample of some of the strongest Sakè I ever tasted on my first day in Nippon (admittedly, I mispronounced "Nippon" as "Nipple" after I first heard it). I was told it was Sakè that saved the world from a demon dragon thing that wore a pirate hat... and there was a palm tree in there somewhere, too.

When I first got here, I knew Japanese, but only so much. Still, I got the name Orochi, and the name Shiranui. There were more in there, but I was never really interested enough in folklore to ask questions about it.

That first night was wonderous. I forgot. I didn't remember when I was drunk. I was just drunk. I was there. I was against a fence. I was hammered.

But I didn't care! I didn't care that I was in a new world with no answers. I didn't care that I was dead-ish. I did not care that I'd been given a second chance.

All I cared about was Sakè: How to get it and how to get more of it. I would've preferred a good old fashioned pint of beer, but then I drank that first jug of Sakè...

Alright, it wasn't a jug. It was more of a cup. That one cup felt like a jug, though. It was potent.

After that first night, I was hooked. When I wasn't drunk, I remembered. When I remembered, I got scared. When I got scared, I felt hopeless, and when I feel hopeless, I drink.

Play That Lonesome Loser's Tune. That's The One I Like The Best.

I'd been in Nippon for a few months, and I was a beggar in the town of Kamiki. I wasn't the town drunk. That was the self-proclaimed "Greatest Warrior Who Ever Lived"'s honor: Susano.

For all intents and purposes, I could've dropped him in hand-to-hand.

A statue of a wolf named Shiranui (the very same from that legend I butchered to all hell during translation) vanished one day after a boulder appeared, blocking exit from the village. The skies got darker, the air got humid, and a feeling of hopelessness fell on the shoulders of everyone in town, which ultimately caused me to get scared, which made me feel hopeless, which made me drink even more.

I wasn't going to last very much longer at the rate I was now drinking. I'd tried on various occasions to stop, but the first signs of withdrawal crushed my resolve every time. I knew nobody in this town other than Susano by first name basis, because I didn't care. I didn't care about Susano, either, but the man refers to himself in the third person.

I mention the other mouth-breathers in town because... had I actually gotten to befriend any of them, I could've had assistance in trying to kick this addiction. Instead, I remained. I begged. I stole. I sometimes did legit work to mix things up. The point is, my attempt at escaping from reality backfired on me.

It got to the point that... if I ever failed to aquire an appropriate inebriation, my entire night would be full of terror, anger, and pain that no amount of training could teach me to endure. I hated it. I hated every second of withdrawal, and I hated every second of my existence in this land.

And then I met Amaterasu. Had I known that she was not just a highly intelligent wolf, but in reality the Sun Goddess, I probably would've begged for forgiveness from her or something (because after my first confirmed kill, I told myself that, if I actually encountered a diety after death, I would ask for forgiveness for sins on account of not wanting to burn).

I did not know she was Amaterasu. Everybody thought she was Shiranui, and I just sort of called her "man"... as in "Hey, man... you have anything you can part with?"

I didn't know on first sight that she was intelligent. She looked like a big white wolf. That was really it. There was some small thing bouncing on top of her head and I could hear that thing from a mile away, but... there wasn't much else off about her.

Needless to say, had I been sober enough to think rational thoughts, I probably would've just gone ahead and skipped asking an animal for money. Well, maybe.

So when I asked her such a broad favor, she tilted her head in mild confusion, and the little bouncing guy-bug-thing on her head fell, and when he got up, he had a few words for her.

We both ignored him. She stared me down for a few moments, and I started wondering if she was waiting for me to give her a treat or something. She suddenly shut her eyes, and seemed to focus. Even the bouncing loud mouth was silent when she sat.

In my haze, I wasn't exactly sure what she was doing. I just remember that when she next acknowledged me, she had a big jug of sakè (this time it was a real jug) in her jaws, and she offered it to me. I obviously took it graciously, and I thanked her... and then she was off.

I hated alcohol. I hated myself for what I became. Everything was messed up. This was not me. Sometimes, when I fell asleep, I would remember some of my time overseas. I cleared a sloppy obstacle course made by some of the other guys seemingly overnight in forty-nine seconds. I had the highest time out of everybody that tried it. I was a good shot, I was independent, and I was smart.

I was nearly driven mad by my memories. I was burned out. I sat around with my palms out in rotting clothing, and my diet was alcohol and bread most of the time. I couldn't eat fruits anymore after a while. They'd make me sick and I would see whatever I ate again about ten seconds after I finished eating it. Bread was all I could really keep down.

Water was fine, too.

I would see Amaterasu fairly often. She'd stop by and offer me more to drink. On the first week, I was never wanting for alcohol. When the rumors started going around that this wolf was the all-loving Goddess, Amaterasu, I scoffed. I felt she knew I was an addict, and I felt that she was toying with me. She was giving me all the sakè I needed, and I hated her for it.

I hated myself even more for accepting it every time. I never spoke ill to her face. I had nobody to really speak to (I didn't really want anybody to speak to, anyway). Still, it felt like she was trying to draw out my misery and my self-loathing.

Then, the second week came. She stopped by every other day, and she gave me the jug full of alcohol again, but it wasn't filled to the brim anymore. At first, I simply thought that was how much they put in the jug, and those to follow would have more. It wasn't too noticeable, anyway. The sakè still had my number, and I was still angry.

Yeah, insert violin music here.

On the third week, she saw me regularly again and offered sakè. It seemed like nobody would even throw me a look anymore except for her. I would never say anything to her about it, but on this week, the jugs were all half empty (except for one that was half-full). What was weird was, I wasn't really bothered by the sakè diminishing. I wasn't feeling tormented as long as I had something to drink.

I would see her almost regularly for two months. Every week, the amount of sakè would diminish further... and I would find myself wanting more less and less. It didn't take a genius to figure out what she was doing. She was weaning me off my addiction... and it was actually working.

Once I put two and two together, whenever she came by, I refused to look her in the eyes. According to her bouncing friend, she was saving the world.

I've Got Season's Tickets To Watch The Angels Now, So That's Just What I'm Gonna Do...

The world's a big responsibility. She still found time for me and my problems, as well as the problems of just about everybody else in town. For me, the jug slowly gave way to a mug, the mug gave way to a cup, the cup gave way to a shotglass, and the shotglass gave way to water.

Water.

She could've stopped there. Once I was rid of my problem, any money I came into went to bread and new clothing. I was feeling better than I'd ever felt since I got here. Once I was rid of the addiction, I freelanced. I had training with bayonets, and that transferred relatively easily to the sword once I borrowed one from Susano. I wasn't a mercenary, but a bounty hunter. That's what I told myself.

I payed my debt to Susano, as my first priority. I still had no home, so I would stay where Amaterasu found me. She still kept coming back to me, and now she eyed me with a look of pride on her face, as if she was my mother.

It made sense. A lot of people do call her "Mother Amaterasu".

Once I took down a particularly nasty threat another few months later, I got enough together for a small shack.

Amaterasu congratulated me with a fruit basket. I didn't question how she came across these items. She was a Goddess. It didn't have to make sense to me.

I got sort of mushy the day she gave me the fruit basket. I hugged her tightly for the first time and gave her my thanks.

Even after my major issues were resolved, she'd visit me at least once a week to see how I was. She couldn't (or wouldn't) speak to me, but she would listen when I had something to say. She listened every time.

Her ability to listen helped me wonders as well. I wasn't wasting the second chance I had at life since her intervention.

Look, I don't go around spreading my love for that Goddess because she helped me. I never really pushed anything I believed on other people, religious or otherwise. I still don't. I'm halfway writing this whole thing for relief.

I told her just about everything I covered in this letter, and even more. I knew she could probably figure out everything about me by simply reading my mind, but the interest I saw in her eyes when I said something about myself (I rarely mentioned my home) told me she never did so.

Her visits were usually but an hour or so long, and then she'd have to go off and do her thing again. I'd ask her if she defeated whoever she set out to defeat, and I'd get the nod of her head, and if I asked her if she needed help with the next one, she'd always shake her head.

I would've thrown in with her whenever she wished, but she was probably right. I was dealing with criminals as a bounty hunter, and the occasional mad animal. The first and last time I went up against one of the demons plaguing this land, I almost bought it. I got saved by some fruity looking guy that spoke English, but with a very fake French accent.

I thanked him for his assist, and he said something I didn't really pay attention to and left. He saved my life too, and when I thanked him, I was sincere. Still, nobody showed as much kindness as Amaterasu.

But You, The Living... You're Stuck Here With The Cubs. So It's ME That Feels Sorry For YOU.

About a year after my arrival here, Amaterasu defeated the evil plaguing the land. When I next saw her, she acted strange. I could see happiness and sorrow in her eyes. When I asked if something was wrong, she shook her head and gave me the look of pride I'd seen so often already.

My Japanese improved drastically in that year. I spoke to her friend a little more as time wore on. His name was Issun, and...

He was a...

I never can remember what it's called. "P" something. The point is, he'd speak to me. If he had something to say, you'd find out. At length. He's Amaterasu's "Celestial Envoy" now, which basically translates to "Missionary" for me. As I mentioned, I don't agree with the idea of practically forcing a Goddess on other people, even if she deserves everybody's thanks, but Issun assures me that that isn't what he does.

I rarely see the little guy anymore. He's in Kamiki on occasion, but...

I digress.

On the strange visit with Amaterasu, we said "Goodbye" differently. I'd usually say "See you soon", and she'd give a bark or a smile and then dart off. Also, our visits were usually just an hour or so long. She stayed with me all day that day.

I wasn't weirded out by her decision to stay with me that entire day. It was a touching gesture, to see that a busy Goddess had that much time for me. Still, it never happened before. We spent that day talking, eating, and playing.

Our conversations were still one-sided. She never spoke a word to me that day, other than the nod or shake of her head.

I was able to eat more than just bread again because of Amaterasu helping me. I don't know if she helped me out with my addiction before any long term damage could be wrought, or if she used some sort of power to heal me. The point is, I can eat oranges again and not see them forty seconds later.

By "play", I mean fool around. We'd chase each other for a bit, she'd show me her control over the wind, and I'd show her my ability to make a stick fly temporarily. It would always snap in two before it came back down to Earth. I'd look at her, and she'd eye me innocently.

When the end of the day came, as I said "See you soon", she jumped up at me, and licked my cheek. She stayed in my arms for a few more moments, eyeing me with a morose look on her face, and I was confused. After a few moments, she pressed her head against my chest, whined, and slowly walked up the path. I watched her beautiful white coat slowly shrink and disappear over a hill, and I went inside to rest.

She didn't show up the next week at all. I wondered if she was busy tying up loose ends. I wasn't going to call for her because she didn't visit me. I'm not so vain. I considered the absence just her trying to help out other people, or maybe she was trying to get rid of straggling demons.

It didn't bother me, is what I'm trying to get across.

"Next week," I thought. "Maybe she'll come out again next week and drop in."

The next week came along. No wolf. Now I was perplexed. I didn't know where she was, but I wasn't worried yet. At this point, I thought she might have gone travelling. I'd wanted to see Yoknapatawpha City, which was on the mainland, because I'd heard through merchants that when people weren't dragging their rotting, stinking dead through the streets, it was quite a pleasant place.

So, I'd convinced myself that she was out travelling, perhaps to Yoknapatawpha, and she'd visit Kamiki next week instead.

Next week came. Nothing.

Now I was getting worried something might have happened to her, and the worry showed in my fighting capabilities. My movements, made fluid and emotionless through a year of experience coupled with the tough training of a soldier... they became sporadic, full of anger or fear, and just plain wrong. I had to stop fighting temporarily. I'd saved up a decent sum to keep myself going for a month or two, but I felt it.

When the NEXT week came along and she didn't visit anybody, I was very worried for her health until Issun showed up. I saw him while I was going out to get some water, and I asked him what happened.

His movements were sluggish, like he'd been hopping all the way here. He eyed me for a moment, and then told me to sit.

When someone tells you to sit, it usually means trouble is brewing. I had a feeling of dread in my chest once he asked me to sit.

He told me that Amaterasu had gone back to the Celestial Plain, and that she wouldn't be coming back for a long time. I asked him if she was dead, and he asked me if I had brain damage.

"Seriously, all that sakè must've taken a toll on you. You think Ammy would just let a demon kill her?"

The more I thought about it, the dumber it sounded. Screen door, meet submarine.

I asked him how long she was going to be gone for, and he sighed loudly.

"A very long time. As in, she's probably not coming back to Nippon for anywhere between a hundred years and forever."

When he said "forever", I almost broke down. It took everything I knew and held dear to pull myself together, and I asked him if there was a way to visit her. He sounded pleased.

"Yes, there's the Ark, but it's already at the Celestial Plain."

I slumped, and I could feel a lump in my throat.

"...so, we'll never see her... again?" I asked.

"Not here! Not on Nippon. Not on Earth."

I stared.

"Upon death, we go to the Celestial Plain. We'll see her then... but that's only if we live out our lives and not off ourselves or accidently cause or own deaths. Ammy would want us to live and be happy. That's why she defeated the demons. Don't you see, dummy? She defeated the demons and returned to the Plain because she wanted us all to live. If she wanted us to die right away, wouldn't she have left Nippon alone? Wouldn't she have allowed you to drink yourself to death?"

I wasn't ready to accept everything he'd said. I was holding back tears for when I was done talking to him.

"Th-then, there's no way to..."

"I never said there was no way to talk to her," Issun said. "You can pray. Furball's always listenin'."

"She always did," I said, and as Issun walked off, the tears fell.

Have The Umpires Bark Me "Out" At Every Base, In All Their Holy Wrath.

I remember that entire conversation. I also remember how often I prayed to her, and how much I told her I loved her, as well as how much I owed to her. Even now, my thoughts aren't with the one that injured me so gravely. I anticipate seeing her again at long last.

All wounded warriors are encouraged to write such letters to family if they are not expected to survive their wounds. I'm writing this to Amaterasu, and anybody else who might read it up there. I'm not sure how postal works on the Plain, anyway.

I don't really have much else to write. It's calming to some extent, and I can't feel too much right now. Dying was painless the first time, and as I lay dying again, it still doesn't hurt so much.

Amaterasu, Mom, Ammy, or Furball. It depends on who is speaking. You know who you are, and you know who I am. Please don't allow a third chance. Two was enough.

I just want to see you. I want to see my family.

Though I've said it a hundred times, here's a hundred and one:

Thank you, thank you for the divine intervention. I'll see you soon.

He Closed His Eyes And Slipped Away...

Al La Fin to the Max.

Most of this was formed by sleep deprivation. Like most of the stuff I write.

Sam Stone is a reference to a song of the same name by John Prine. It's about an ex-soldier that becomes a drug addict, but the ending is much more somber.

"Yoknap... whatever" is a reference to a fictional County used in some works by William Faulkner. The thing about people dragging rotting, stinking corpses through the streets is a reference to his novel As I Lay Dying.

The Bold print separating the acts in this one-shot are all lines from Steve Goodman's song, "A Dying Cubs Fan's Last Request". It's very funny.

I don't intend on using Stone again, but I wanted a story mixing Sam Stone of Prine's song, and Amaterasu's kindness. As usual, I used the life/death/rebirth thing to move from universe to universe, and I ultimately ended up pumping out this garbage when I should've been sleeping or preparing for a painter to come to my house.

For all intents and purposes, I did not serve in the military, and I don't want people to get confused and think I did. That's not to say I don't love our troops. I do. Still, I feel like it's poor to characterize Stone the way I did. But, I'm *Puts on sunglasses* just following orders... in the form of the song "Sam Stone".