Inspiration 47

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Psalm 127:3 Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward.

I never knew my dad growing up, and when I got old enough to make a decision whether to get to know him or not, I was not given the opportunity. Sometimes, I resent that fact and feel cheated.
My mother was 43 when I was born, and he id when I was 19. I was an only child and had to grow up fast. I learned to stand on my own two feet, though I've been knocked down many times. Failure is not getting knocked down--It's not getting up.

Aidan O'Rourke is orphaned at 17, an age between childhood and adulthood. King Satin's Realm is Aidan's adventure. And it is SATIN, not SATAN. I can spell.

1

Aidan's Dilemma

Aidan O'Rourke was miserable. At seventeen, his world was gone. Nothing would ever be the same.

The words of comfort the minister offered did little to heal the boy's broken spirit. A cat yowled outside as the back door of the church creaked and a stooped old man entered. Aidan paid little attention to the old fellow, but the meowing sounded like lament, long and pitiful. It caused his skin to prickle with goosebumps. He released a long, sad sigh.

The distraught young giant, standing well over six feet, followed the closed casket to the graveside. He caught his breath in gasps as it was lowered. Mechanically, he threw the first shovel of dirt to cover his mother.

The iron gate into the cemetery squeaked as he pushed it open to leave. He looked back to see the same old man shoveling the rest of the dirt. Must be the caretaker, but he looks familiar. Aidan furrowed his brow.

The man dropped into the hole a moment. Aidan thought he heard, "As I suspected. Aye, indeed." Then a white cat, its tail swishing fiercely, perched on the mounded dirt yet to be shoveled back into the open grave. The old man hoisted himself out and rubbed the cat's head. "P.C. without a doubt."

"Strange," Aidan mumbled to himself.

It seemed the entire village of Stonebrige offered him condolences, but nothing comforted him. His mother was gone. He wandered aimlessly home, his mind filled with a million thoughts. He sank in dejection onto the porch stoop. His emerald eyes glistened with moisture as he suppressed a flow of tears. "What do I do?" He dropped his face into his hands and mumbled, "I am alone, so alone."

Brushing a lion's mane of golden curls back with both hands, he stared across the landscape of bluffs covered in lush greenery. He looked toward the small church and the graveyard beyond. His heart ached with sorrow at the loss of his mother. He closed his eyes and remembered, breathing her name aloud. "Priscilla Cecelia O'Rourke. Even yer name sounded loike a song. Oh, Mam, why did ya leave me? Two days ago, ya were fine. Ya were not ill. Ya simply went to sleep and never awoke."

He could hear her talking as she baked bread to take to the other widows of the town. It was her nature to give. Recalling the smells and the way she moved, he understood why the villagers called her a sprite. She was tiny with amber irises, like a cat's. Though she smiled, the light did not reach her eyes. He remembered asking, "Mam, why aire ya so forlorn?"

She patted his cheek, leaving a bit of flour. "Me fire died with Duncan, but ya keep the embers alive. Ya have yer father's eyes. When I look into them, I see Duncan."

Aidan cocked his head to the side. "When I look into yer eyes I see meself."

Priscilla laughed with a sound like a gentle, gurgling brook. "That, me son, is because the eyes aire windows to the soul. Ya see yereself for ya aire me soul," she replied.

Aidan stretched his long legs in front of him as he sat on the narrow stone step-up into the only home he had ever known. He was tall as Priscilla had said Duncan was. He had almost outgrown the wool breeches his mother had sewn for him only months before. His doublet stretched tight across his chest. He sighed. "If I am yer soul, am I loike ya? Ya were so kind and giving, but always a little sad." He felt his mother's melancholy as he thought. He smiled at the memory of her. She had reminded him of sunshine, but with a brooding, aching soul, like a sunny day with a storm cloud on the horizon.

He turned his head to the door of the home she had made. "Ya saw Duncan when ya looked at me. The only similarities to me father aire me eyes and size. I never knew him even if ya did talk aboot him all the time, aboot how he took me to sea on short trips."

Aidan considered the stories he had heard about his father, a sea captain. When Aidan was a baby, Duncan embarked on a voyage to discover the mythical land of Draconis where it was rumored men and dragons lived together in harmony. A fierce storm severely damaged his ship, and he and most of his crew were lost forever. Only one member of his party survived to tell the tale, and everyone knew old Diggory was crazy.

The aging sailor returned bearing a story so strange and bizarre it could not be believed. He ranted of an island where animals talked, and he swore his ship's crew had not been lost at sea, but had been changed into talking animals by an evil sorceress and left on the enchanted island. When nobody would take him seriously, he became a recluse and lived on the outskirts of the village although Aidan had seen him from time to time at the livery or at the market. Most people shunned the old man. Aidan had been afraid of him.

Aidan laughed. "Me father believed in dragons. Mayhap, he was as crazy as old Diggory." He flexed and relaxed his fists causing his muscles to ripple as he pondered the possibility. Why would a man in his roight mind desert his family for such a dream? Could it have been the lure of riches and glory? Had he hoped to give us a better life?

Aidan stood and looked into the house. It smelled like his mother, like lavender in the spring. That once sweet fragrance now turned his stomach with the agony of longing. He stepped inside. The emptiness seeped into his pores.

He walked to the fireplace and stared at the painting of his father over the mantle. It had been an extravagant gift from some earl with whom Duncan had found favor. He wore his naval finest, silver glistening in the creases of the black doublet. His raven-black hair gleamed. His piercing green eyes pulled Aidan. As he leaned closer, a voice whispered to him, "Destiny." For a brief moment, Aidan saw a pearly-white dragon. He shook himself, but he had come to a decision, ending his dilemma. He bumped the mantle with big, strong hands to solidify his choice.

With nowhere to go and no one to care for him and the love of the sea in his blood, Aidan began to wonder about the story. What if 'tis true? What if me father is somewhere on some bewitched island? With much resolve and purpose, Aidan packed his meager belongings. He decided to go in search of the enchanted island and, perhaps, his father. He could think of only one person who might give him some answers. He garnered his nerve and went to talk to the town fool.

Cover by Christopher Chambers.

Aidan and Duncan, as I see them.