Chapter Three

Crimson

1

Days before his trek to Carol Pennington's homestead, Crimson sat in his customary posture, meditating as was his way. Deep within his quieted mind, the stillness is clearly detected, the silence is also clearly detected and he recognizes these qualities as fundamentally basic. The dark man, with skin the color of dark coffee, abides in quiet emptiness. He retains a remarkable clarity about himself whereas he can easily see all of what is moving within the stillness, much as a spider feels an intruder touching its web. Focusing steadfastly on the movement of his breath, peripherally noticing all else within his realm of existence, he hears every event which sets the harp of the silent membrane of stillness into a vibration. The vast field delicately quivers with waves of what normally is accepted as sound. Focusing with such concentration nothing of his personal perimeter is missed or over looked and being fully aware of every detection of his sensory organs as they operate within his temporal body.

His body holds a posture of balance and is perfectly erect; stacked as a pinnacle of his uncle's coins, his spinal column keeping his head held high and even (not overly so like snobbery). The comings and goings of all the various phenomena is experienced. Beings who are mostly not seen, and who aren't normally who we think they are, become noticed. The are aware of being obvious and clearly seen. Standing among these beings stands his noble spiritual friend and cohort; Esen.

Esen arrived instantaneously, and without warning, coming with news of an abduction. An event in which he had seen interesting attributes concerning the spiritual realm and situations that just might suit him and his curious nature. So Crimson had arisen from his meditation and carefully packed his traveling bag and forthwith set out for the home of Carol Pennington.

2

Viewing the Pennington household for real was not a momentous moment. Thousands of thresholds have been privy to the steps of Crimson as his path has coincided with many. This was only the next one as well as another step in the pathway of his own personal quest, creating, once again, an occasion for which Crimson can aid and then collect what he needed from these people. He'd seen it all in his dream state in very graphic detail many times and knew instinctively that he had better prepare for the coming battle. The unsuspecting people who's life is now involved have no idea what they're up against, he mused to himself. He suspected that things would escalate very quickly when the time came and there will be much to do here when the true state of affairs reared its ugly head, which will be soon enough.

However he felt about the people who lived here, he actually enjoyed the walkup the small, cutely arranged stone pathway. It brought joy to his heart to witness life flourish with such passion and this woman's creativity brought pleasure to his heart in spite of the seriousness of the circumstances compelling his visit. Placing his foot finally on the well swept stoop of the home, he stood patiently waiting, as if expecting someone would open the door, even without knocking. He knew that he hadn't needed to knock, and the door did indeed open as expected and there she stood. Anger and concern etched on her face. Carol, a lovely picture of a lady in the prime of womanhood and a worrying mother, totally absorbed in her task at hand, holding in her arms a bag full of men's clothes, a look of serious indignation on her face, dark hair paged cutely.

Crimson Leake stepped gingerly into Carol's home. Carol's mouth opened on its own volition and stayed that way as she watched this stranger just walk into her house and look around as though he owned the place and he belonged there. His walk was smooth and even, he appeared almost to be floating on his feet when he moved. Rather audacious, she thought as he glided nonchalantly over her lovely new couch, felt the cushions with his fingers, and turned and sat down. Only five and a half feet tall, he seemed bigger, huge and overbearing, but with a gentleness which was inexplicable.

Carol was worried about what his grimy traveling clothes and all of his paraphernalia would do to her new couch, though she could see at much closer inspection that they were clean and just a little worn from travel. A small leather, tightly drawn pouch of blonde hide tight around the middle of his waist, drawn closed by a pulled string, hanging securely at his hip. He reached down easily and pulled on the end of the string, loosening the opening. Nimble fingers held the opening wide, while the tie string just dangled. Meticulously removing a tiny object, holding it closely as if to hide it from prying eyes.

His smile was enigmatic, tinged with a trace of humor, his manner that of a gentleman; polite and ingratiating, his countenance grim and sober, with skin the color of deep, rich chocolate. In his hand what he had hidden from her view, was a small, smoothly faceted stone, the darkest blue she'd ever seen. A reflective sheen shone with such a reflection of deepness within, a flash of sparkle that was uncanny and an inexplicable shiver ran straight down her spine. The artifact seemed to exude some kind of magical power. It radiated with an energy which seemed to come from its own source.

Surprisingly, Carol was taken aback by the fact that Holly lay at the old man's feet and showed none of her usual behavior with strange company. She was accepting of the old man in totality and, in fact, was comfortable at his side as if she knew him.

Carol wasn't sure that she was placing too much hope and faith on this guy. She felt a bit embarrassed and chagrined at her feelings of uncertainty.

3

Laying his staff to the side, just to the left of his leg, he stretched his arms high above his head and straightened his posture, cracking joints and popping tendons heard clearly. Upon bringing down his arms he exhaled slowly and settled into a relaxed position. He sat close to the front of the cushion with a straight held back, in a cross legged fashion, legs crossing each other at the ankles. Sharp, piercing, dark eyes which clearly penetrated her soul as they focused on Carol. Her body shook as a shiver briefly streaked down her spine again, leaving her feeling exuberant and deflated simultaneously. His stare was powerfully hypnotic. It touched her to the very depths of her being, with a deepness so profound it was nothing less than astounding. She felt completely naked, as if he could see clean through her and as if he knew, somehow, someway, the deepest secrets of her own private heart. He stretched out with his hand stretched towards her as he held the precious stone out, beckoning with a quick gesture, letting her know that he wanted her to take it from him.

Leaning back in her recliner, she examined the stone, turning it this way and that, watching the light as it played through the unexpected facets. "What is this?" Carol grinned, stammering nervously. She focused her eyes upon him, bearing into his soul. "Who are you? Exactly?" a puzzled expression took residence on her face. "What do you want? How can you have known to come here and just walk right up to my door and into my house with out so much as an invite in? I didn't know anyone was going to be on my step.

"Yet, you opened your door to me!" he stated to obvious.

"How do you know about what's going on concerning Shirley and Kathy?" she inquired timidly, fearful of whatever the answer might be.

"It was not I who took them. As I think you know." he said with a shake of his head, "But we shall endeavor to discover where they are and find a safe method to facilitate their return." he breathed quietly. And when he spoke, it was almost a whisper like a monk or a librarian.

"I have come to help you get them back. I would have come to you eventually anyway. You have a mindful power, so I am also here specifically to train you in the use and facilitation of that power."

4

"Train me?" Her voice sounded incredulous, even to her own ears, but the shock and surprise of what he'd just said was having an unbelievable effect.

"Yes!" He murmured quietly. " Train you in special spiritual matters, especially in areas which may concern your apparent ability for premonitions, and the probable possibilities that there are other mental capacities as well. It seems you have a great deal of talent and could be rather useful for folks like me." The strange black man drew in a deep breath and held it for what seemed like an eternity.

He finally exhaled slowly and, again, a very long moment, then he resumed.

"It would be a good idea to give Kathy's mother; Ruth a call" Peering deeply and uncomfortably, closely, staring fearlessly into her eyes. She couldn't help but wonder how the hell he knew her name. . . "and ask her if she can come back over, for what I have to tell you is something that both of you should hear. Something for you two to listen to.

"Please! Just put that personal stone away for now. We'll talk about it later in great detail, but for now just keep it somewhere safe. It will bring you personal comfort and strengthen you where you need it when the time and the need comes."

Carol stashed her new stone in a pocket of her purse, carefully snapping it shut and setting it by her right foot. "Is Shirley alright? Has she been hurt?" . . . she was suddenly reaching in her purse for the stone, picking it up again and once again rolling it around in her hands, rubbing it with her fingers. Her intrigue had gotten the best of her and she peered directly, deeply into the depths of the stone. She didn't remember removing it from her purse. She looked across the table into his eyes and thought she saw something shining. Feeling lost and vulnerable, swearing to herself that she'd put this stone away once before, she gasped out with a cry of frustration as she again, noticed the pebble and placed it finally on the coffee table, the finish shining brightly on the cherry wood, and leaving it there. Holly raised her head momentarily and then laid it back on her paws.

He seemed to be pondering her question silently , rather than notice the anxious moment she was having with the stone. She took a deep breath and after a long pause, he finally whispered, "She is frightened (pause) but also unharmed for now, (another long pause) but she is indeed in danger and the prospect of her being injured is quite possible." Turning to look at her, but not unkindly, he went on. "Perhaps we can circumvent that occasion, but we must hurry, so; give your newly found friend a call, for there is a lot to discuss."

"What is your name?" Carol finally asked. Clearly, the mention of Shirley and Kathy drew her attention back to the problem at hand, though she had enjoyed the small temporary reprieve provided by his timely visit.

"I am glad to tell you many things, most of which are possibly important to Ruth as well! So, we will wait." He looked at her with twinkling eyes, an enigmatic grin and a silent, stoic disposition.

"Just making conversation! I didn't mean to seem pushy."

He remained motionless and passive.

5

Storm clouds slowly building up in the sky to the east as spring brings the promising aroma of precipitation and the already chilling temperature is falling quickly, giving a brisk sting to the air. Drafts of wind whirled among the branches, swaying the trees and bushes danced, creating a bustle making the scene one of frantic, sporadic motion as Ruth approached Carol's house for the second time today. Shadows were beginning to stretch easterly as the sun moved across the sky taking its place in exile, hidden by cloud. Excitement, mixed with worry, blossomed in her heart and her soul felt suddenly lighter and freer, enhanced by the blustery dance of the trees, all of the bushes and the gathering, darkening clouds built enormously as she approached the door once again.

She glanced around the well groomed yard as leaves and debris danced merrily across the lawn, noticing, not for the first time, the design and beauty of the yard, and the cute little stone walkway, which ushered your steps to the ornate door serving as the entrance of the domain. New leaves were beginning to peek out at the world from the branches of the magnificently swaying silver maple centering the yard. The spring season was quickly approaching.

Recalling that Carol had mentioned she had news of the girls when she called and Ruth was energized by the prospect of learning something more of what was going on. The news had produced in her some spark of hope, a specific lightening in her heart. Once again in the same day, she depressed the lighted button which served as a doorbell, inset on the front door frame and she heard the musical sounds of the chimes. No one came to the door right away, there were no footsteps heard. The moment lingered and time seemed to stop, or at least it passed slowly. No sounds at all came from the home behind the door. So after a moment or two, reluctantly, Ruth mustered up the courage and pushed tentatively on the door. It was not locked and it swung open with ease as if on its own volition, as though someone was opening it for her, but of course, no one was there. She stepped into the house and timidly called out. "Hello!" Pausing for a confusing beat. "Carol!?"

"We're in the den." a voice finally called out.

Ruth followed the sound of Carol's voice, noticing the splendor of the home once more. She is surprised to see a very old, very black enigma of a man, seated on Carol's couch. His mannerisms were gentle and relaxed, every movement exuding a calmness of a sort and it seemed to emanate from him in great waves, wafting her with gentleness; comfort. He held a gnarly, wooden staff, with a polished dark finish, gleaming and shiny, out before him in a horizontal manner over the floor in front of his feet. Extending his arms out so that his elbows were just to the front of his knees. His eyes were tightly closed, deep age lines are vividly visible on his withered face, a bead of perspiration ran down the side of his cheek. His eyes are clinched tight and his shoulders are undulating with a slight quiver as he recites strange syllables, something in a language that sounded odd to her. One she'd never heard before. The scene before her was one that Ruth had never experienced before. It was like out of a movie. It was very strange. At once, Holly stood and trotted over to her side and curled up on the floor beside her.

6

Carol, seated on the edge of a recliner just to the right of the couch, watched closely as he was performed his ritual, her shoulders slumped and bent as she leaned forward further and unexpectedly brushed her eyes with balled fists as if there was something in them. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her face turned rosy red, swelling and puffing up around her eyes. Her cute pixie cut, dark brown hair, disarrayed as she appeared to fall into some kind of trance. Her attention totally focusing on her unusual guest. He had her undivided attention.

Ruth stood and stared as though it was all a dream, but found herself asking, "Who is this, Carol?" She slowly sank down into a nearby chair. "Has he said if knows anything about what has happened to Kathy and Shirley?" Confusion drew an expression of puzzlement on her face, creating a crinkling of her nose and raising her cheekbones. "What is he supposed to be doing with that stick?" She was clearly taken aback by the unusual appearance of this strange black man in his traveling clothes, and a strange assortment of weird objects at his side.

She is surprised also by Carol's relaxed manner. This was a totally different woman! Not the same at all as the one who'd spent the early part of the morning with her. Carol turned towards her with such abruptness that Ruth jumped, startled. Carol pulled her face together, a surprised look of pleasure adorning her pretty pixyish face, and she smiled an adoring smile and expressed how glad she was that Ruth has returned so quickly, and so relieved to see her again.

"I'm sorry! I didn't hear you come in, Dear." The quiet calmness in Carol's voice was a radical difference from the ranting, angry voice she'd used earlier in the day. Quite a change had come over her new friend. Ruth felt her respect and admiration for her new friend growing.

"I will begin by telling you that what I am called is not necessarily the same thing as who I am. No one actually knows who they are, usually being satisfied with nothing more than a name, and a few numbers in this current age." suddenly Crimson said to Carol and Ruth in a confiding voice. "That is…my name as I use it at this moment. You may call me; Crim, a shortened form of the proper name of Crimson. My father, an eccentric man with a morbid sense of humor, stuck me with this unusual name, thinking at the time that it was rather humorous. Thomas Leake was his name. He was strict and had no toleration for frivolities. The pun he created by giving me the name Crimson was an inside joke to him. A joke that he was proud of and chuckled periodically about until the day he died. He had reached the age of 82 years. I was actually called Crim through out all of my life as a child by my mother, Kathleen as a matter of fact." He grinned at Ruth. "and it has stuck with me through most of my many years.

"I am a man who feels very akin to the Spirit. The Spirit of Life, that is, in all of its forms, and my calling in life, as well as my own choice of profession, is to expound, expose and teach the understanding and usage of the power of the great Spirit of Life which shines through us all. The abduction of Shirley and Kathy are the catalysts who have brought us together at this time, for your training and your personal awakening to a great many things.

7

Seeing reality as it is can be difficult at the most common times, however when stress is at its strongest then that is when it becomes crucial. Reality can swallow you, suck you into its vortex and erase your existence as though you were never born. Most do not realize the fragility of the darkness which surrounds us. A darkness from whence all of the paraphernalia of your perceptions come and go. A pang of regret and sorrow come to Crimson's mind, compassion for the fearless jump these two ladies are being prepared to make. Life is about to become hard for them both, he prayed that they both had the necessary strength and fortitude to understand and use the lessons he has prepared for them. He will begin with the simple and let the essence of that seed grow and nourish.

"There seems to us all that there be at least three persons existing in each of us. There is but one being, but personifications pertain to perceptions of each individual, and the concepts formed in their minds, rather than actual beings. The first person we recognize as actual, is the one we think is there. We perceive our own being and form the concept of who we believe we are, and this mental construct will be a weight on our shoulders throughout our entire life's journey. The illusive ego is born of this conceptual person, a self projected upon our mind's eye to become a persona used for communicative purposes, existing unknowingly, only in our mind, relating to the world outside ourselves like a liaison between our exterior and our interior realms. Each of us endeavors to project this persona out into the external realm, seeking to gain from those who love us the usual needs; food, shelter and companionship. Unknowingly, our projection when received by anyone of the exterior beings becomes the second person, which is related to the first, but different in that this is the person whom everyone else believes we are. The ego, or personage which others see and recognize, is the part of ourselves which they use for their own gains, and advantages, usually at the expense of the other's life and happiness. We all unwittingly recognize these perceived personas as literal individual entities, but to our dismay we find it is also as illusive and unreal as the self ego.

"There is the third and most important person of all, and that is the one being who is actually there, and which, incidentally, is neither of the first two. This is referring to the perceived essence we take as truth though we mistakenly ignore and not see the actual true person, which is there through perception only and not in actuality.

"There is only one person whom is the essence of you. Guess which one of you that is? The Spirit of Life and all of its attributes and facets can be difficult to comprehend, and the conundrum is increased substantially by the usage of normal thought and reasoning. The Spirit is untouchable by the normal thought processes as it is outside of them. So, we must make use of parables and stories; metaphors and similes."

Carol glances up at the clock hanging on the upper part of the wall in the den and noticed that it was only 6:30 in the afternoon. She was so caught up in what Crimson was saying she'd forgotten about the time and the crisis which had brought them together. She felt a bit guilty and asked; "How is this going to help us find Shirley?"

"I'm just laying down some ground work so that you might understand what I tell you. Shirley and Kathy are unharmed and are unlikely to be in danger anytime soon. They are frightened, but a friend of mine is with them and helping them cope."

Esen watched from a distance, keeping his being obscure. He had no reason to announce himself, nor the inclination. His job was to observe and protect if needed, nothing more. Knowledge was a dangerous thing sometimes and the lack of it can work in your favor. Timing is everything and the essence of the darkness was an old and familiar friend. A being of the spirit world, he had no need of a flesh and blood body, but the allure of the negative world could be annoying at times. The evil minds who were responsible for young Shirley's delimma had a rude awakening coming and he would gladly usher in that alarm for them. He had only to wait.

Danny Brooks