Fic: Twice-Told (1/1)
Title: Twice-Told (1/1)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: David Acosta, Ben Shakir, Kristen Bouchard
Fandom: Evil
Genre: Drama
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: On a rainy afternoon, David has a vision.
Date Of Completion: July 9, 2020
Date Of Posting: December 6, 2020
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Robert King and Michelle King do, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1262
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
She wept
Like rain
Falling
From the sky,
Wet with pain.
Her sword
Was gold
And she foretold
What will be, will be.
Darien Kilgore
“The Mystics”
1999 C.E.
David sat at his desk in his room in Saint Sebastian’s, though he supposed it could be called a garret, though he was no starving artist. He looked at his texts, flipping through the books as he reviewed his studies. Sometimes he wondered about his life. One night he might be present at an exorcism, and the next night he could be attending class at the seminary. The life of a priest-in-training was rarely dull, at least in his experience.
Rain drummed on the roof, a comforting sound. His eyelids were growing heavy. Rain was also good for sleeping. He tried to continue studying but gave up. He crawled under the covers of his bed.
He had been going at a full-speed pace lately. Maybe a nap could be a good idea. He scrunched down into his pillow and pulled the covers up tighter. He listened to the rain and let his thoughts drift.
It was easy. Visioning required an openness of mind, and being all comfy in bed, listening to the rain, well, what could be better for relaxation?
His breathing took on a slower pace as he thought of past visions, swirling and blinking and creating patterns of beauty and light. Good had to stay vigilant, because Evil was always trying to make headway in a screwed-up world. Leland Townsend was a great example of that.
Ben was his partner in battling Evil. Skeptic Supreme. Counterpoint to his belief. They needed someone to balance them out. They had had someone, Judy James, but after learning about the extent of the evil, she had become too paranoid to continue working with them.
Kristen was now their half-and-half. She liked to consider herself a complete skeptic, but she was sometimes a believer.
Belief was his heart, his soul. He believed in God’s power, in Good versus Evil, the oldest battle.
Was it blind faith? Sometimes, and sometimes he doubted. Faith was a struggle, even for the saints.
I have a calling.
He understood what the saints endured, and their euphoria. He understood the call of the divine as ordinary men and women joined the Church, dedicating their lives to religious service, eschewing marriage and children.
Was he ready for that? He felt the call, but could he remain true to vows of celibacy? And the Church itself had its tarnish. The priest scandals were a disgrace. Why should he give up love and children for a Church that clearly had sinned so grievously?
He let the thoughts go. He wanted peace right now, not the same old circle of disappointment and anger.
His breathing began a cadence of near-sleep. The rain sluiced down the windows and stones of the venerable church walls. It ran down the stones into the flowers planted in small patches of soil, seeping toward the pavement. It bounced off umbrellas and was wiped away by windshield wipers. It dripped off leaves and plunked off raincoats.
David stayed warm and snug in his bed. Here, there was no Evil. In the confines of San Sebastian Church, he was safe.
Safe? In a world fraught with Evil, is anyone truly safe?
Ben was a rock, a skeptic to his core. He appreciated his friend’s certainty, and enjoyed shaking it up a bit. Ben was a staunchly scientific kind of guy.
Kristen was the newbie. Did she really know what she was getting into?
David’s breathing continued its relaxed rhythm: in, out, in, out…the rain’s steady drumming was slipping him into sleep.
& & & & & &
Clouds surrounded David as he walked along a dirt road. He glimpsed cornfields through wisps in the clouds. Mist gently cooled his skin as he trudged, sidestepping puddles. Sound was muffled, and he was unsure of where he was.
The clouds parted on his right and a hayfield came into view. Except for rolled-up bales of hay, the field was empty. David felt just as empty, his stomach hollow and his heart lonely. Sadness clung to him like the mist. The clouds rolled in again, cutting off the view.
David felt detached as in the way of dreams. He walked, kicking stones down the road. The clouds turned into heavy fog.
Time could not be measured. Time was for the waking world.
There were sounds out there, but the fog muffled them just as the clouds had done. He could not make out the sounds. Where was he?
He knew he had to be patient. Dreams meant interpretation. Cornfields and hay bales had to mean something to this city boy, right?
He continued walking. Walking was good. Good for the health. He thumped his chest. Yep, fresh country air. Better than sooty city air, right?
It began to rain. Light at first, tickling his skin like the mist. It felt good. Good. That was the side to be on. Evil had its temptations, but they were ultimately empty promises. All glitz, no substance.
He saw a shadowy figure in the fog. The fog parted and he smiled. “Ben!”
“Hi, David.” Rain droplets glittered in Ben’s dark hair.
“Good to see you.” David waved his hand. “Where are we?”
“Beats me.”
“None of this spooks you?”
“Nah. There’s always an explanation.”
David grinned. “Always.” The fog closed in on Ben. David thought he should be alarmed, but dreams were funny. He continued walking.
The air was getting colder, but he was unconcerned. He did not feel tired, either. The rain became heavier. Somewhere a foghorn sounded, odd in corn country, but somehow made sense in Dreamland.
“Beware, beware!” someone wailed. It sounded like Judy James. “Take care, take care!”
“Judy?”
The wail trailed off. He continued walking.
The next time the fog parted, there was an opening in the cornfield. David took the path, the corn high over his head on both sides. He felt like Moses parting the Red Sea, or maybe like Charlton Heston? It was certainly wet like the sea.
“Hello, David.”
He was pleased to see Kristen standing in the middle of the path. Her hair was plastered to her head, clothes clinging to her body. He ignored the tingle in his groin.
“Where are we?” he asked.
“In the cornfield.”
“I hope Billy Mumy isn’t around,” David muttered.
Kristen smiled, the rain falling harder. Her smile faded.
David noticed with shock the blood running down her legs. Her hands were bloody, too.
“Are you all right, Kristen?”
The rain streamed down her cheeks, mingling with tears? He felt sadness envelop him like a soft cloak. Something was very wrong.
“Kristen?”
She wept like one of those paintings of the Madonna people claimed was crying. David reached for her but she shook her head and disappeared into the cornfield.
A clap of thunder shook the ground.
& & & & & &
David awoke. Thunder rumbled outside his window. The rain was heavy against the windowpanes.
What was that all about?
His eyelids felt too heavy to open. Ben had been his usual sure self, but Kristen…was she in trouble? Or was he just projecting? Worried that Kristen would end up like Judy, unable to leave her house, slowly crushed by the weight of her knowledge she had learned with himself and Ben?
Visions, huh.
He began to slide back into sleep, remembering tomorrow’s assignment.
Talk about visions. There are reports of a young woman claiming to talk to God, and they’re lining up every day to see her. Sounds interesting.
Visions, huh.
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