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No Fear Cavalier's Blog Entry



 
 

Blog Entry
 
Friday, Jul 07, 2017
Johnny's Story - PART 10 & 11

    “Yes Johnny.  More than 70 years you’ve been kept here.  Kept safe.  Given chance after chance to take up the mantle of the Cavaliers.”  It moved, glided silently into the aisle as if to block his path.  He got the eerie sensation it could sense his thoughts.  It continued by answering an unasked question,  “Your sister did go to California.  She became a poet of some note during the 1960’s.  Her works influenced people the likes of Nelson Mandela and Bono.  She died 30 years ago during the AIDS crisis of the 80’s.”

    Johnny’s eyes blazed and his face hardened, his body taut with a wave of anger, “What the hell is a Bono? “  He paused.  For a moment his icy demeanor cracked a bit and he looked almost caring, “Let’s say I buy this.  Did Aimee… “ he swallowed hard, “..was she happy?”

    “She died with her family around her.  She never stopped wondering what happened to you.”

    Johnny shifted restlessly.  “You some kind of spook?”

    “No Johnny.  I am the angel of this cathedral.”

    He jeered and smirked at her, “Doing a real fine job protecting it.”

    “All churches have angels Johnny, so long as the ground remains sanctified.  Even those that have been forgotten by men.”

    Outside, lighting flashed furiously.  The storm was nearly on them.  The moonlight began to waver and darkness took hold of the sanctuary more deeply.  “We have not much time.”  She repeated, “In a moment I will release you.  You will have a choice.  Help the girl, or take off the cross, walk away, and let the Darkness take you. ”

    “I ain’t’ going nowhere til you lay out what’s going on.  Why me?  Why am I still alive?  Am I a ghost or a Dracula or something?  And why the hell should I believe you?  Even if I buy that it ain’t 1957 no more – who says you’re the good guy?“

    The angel-thing pinched its nose.  “***A*** Dracula?  Seriously?”

    Johnny hoisted the candlestick and took a menacing step forward.

    “I’ve been watching you since you were born.  I have known from the beginning you would come here, and that the cross would choose you.  Your mother left you and your sister in the care of strangers while your father was in the Pacific.  She walked away from the family.  You never saw her again.  Your once-kindly father returned from Iwo Jima a broken man, ill-prepared to raise two children on his own.  He beat you.  Never Aimee, just you.  You made sure of that.  Made sure he only saw you in his drunken rage while your sister hid and covered her ears.  Your right arm curves out slightly from the number of times he broke it.  Most people don’t notice unless they know to look.  It wasn’t until you were in the hospital the second time that the authorities intervened.  Poor child…”


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