Longevity- the Wardens of Time

by Caleb Smith

  “Aren’t you supposed to knock first?”

  Her smile turned into a frown. “I’m sorry. I called to you from the kitchen. I was making ice cream sundaes.”

  She looked deflated, so he softened his tone. “Yes, Mom. I’ll have some ice cream.”

  “Do you want me to bring it in?” she asked with a new smile.

  “No. I’ll come out.”

  In the distance, he could hear car engines taxing their thrust. He closed the cover of the book to seal the vague sounds. He left it to rest and moved to the kitchen for dessert. He knew this would please his mother, and he felt bad for snapping at her.

  “If she only understood,” he said to himself under his breath.

  Chapter 19

  It was weeks later, and the day was brilliant; Noah wore an infectious grin that seemed to resonate with his peers too. It was the last day of school, and he was feeling powerful, even when it was time for a restroom break. The day seemed to give way to a new breath, a new chapter for the ranks of his time line. The lessons had been learned, the work handed in, and the scores for the year released. True, he was a bit taken aback when he saw the B+ in physical education, but the warm brownie, half melted on the paper napkin delivered by Wendy, swiftly made way to a feeling of hope.

  “So, I bet you got straight A’s, didn’t you Mr. Thomas?” Wendy said, wedging a piece of brownie off the square she had given him and popping it in her mouth.

  “I actually got a B+ in gym class, but that’s a step up from last year.”

  “Ha ha. Gym was my best grade! A+!” She pumped her fist toward the sky. But, anyway, we made it to the eighth grade. We’re not on the bottom of the totem pole anymore.”

  “Yeah, maybe right now, but we’ll be back there as soon as we reach high school.”

  Noah didn’t want to dwell on this. He liked it right where he was: thirteen years old and one month away from turning fourteen. He hadn’t had a problem with the enemy since that day in the office. He had not even seen Mike Nason since that day, and what he had seen of Joe Dwyer had been a casual passing in the corridors. Not having to worry about his daily demise had given way to new feelings of self-worth and value.

  “So, you have to come over and help me with my race car. Dad said we could put the tranny in this weekend. Can you believe it?”

  “Yeah. Sure, Wendy, sounds good,” he said with chocolate smudged on his cheek from the gooey treat.

  “Oh, another thing,” she said, her mouth full. “I think I have located a gas-powered motor for your bike.” This was a big deal. She had spent the last four weekends searching high and low to find one – both on the Internet and within the confines of the junkyard.

  “Really?” his eyes widened.

  “It was hard to find, but I started reaching out to collectors and, lo and behold, I found a guy who was willing to part with one.”

  “Does it run?” He was grateful, but skeptical.

  “He said it does, but we’re going to want to modify it. Trust me, we’ll get it running even better.”

  “Well how much does he want?”

  “He was asking $200, but I bet I can get him down to at least $150. If I wave cash in front of his face, or if we can get him to bring it in, maybe he would be willing to trade. He collects antique bikes, and I know we have plenty of them in that big pile out back.”

  “Jeez, Wendy. I don’t have that much money. I have maybe $50 saved up.”

  “Oh, that’s OK. Dad wanted me to ask you if you wanted to work with us twenty hours a week or so for this summer.”

  “Wow! Really? That would be great; thank you so much! You really are a good friend.”

  “I know, just don’t forget me if I need a favor.”

  “I won’t! I promise.”

  “Good. Work starts this weekend at nine o’clock. Don’t be late. And you’re coming over after school, right? I want to show you pictures of the motor I found. I’m pretty sure you will like it.”

  He gladly agreed, but the thought of the bookshop kept entering his mind. With his recently found information on the shop’s owners, he wasn’t quite sure how to proceed. The two angels had not been seen since his investigative efforts had taken place. Books had been placed for his taking, and he had since returned them, but that was it. He hadn’t had further contact with Enoch and Elijah. He was growing used to the routine. Knowing they were dealing with a “higher” business, he had not been eager to confront them. But he had finished all nine instructional books, each lending foresight, skills and problem-solving capabilities beyond his wildest imagination.

  Each book had sported a different color and instructional experience. After Book V: The Boy Who Could Drive, he had ravenously read Book VI: The Boy Who Could Fix, in which he had found himself a modern-day MacGyver creating lifesaving objects out of scrap materials. In Book VII: The Boy Who Visited Heaven, he had visited a greater dimension of light and love with an angelic guide who knew of the twins – the trip’s purpose being to show him that the impossible and unseen could indeed become possible and visible. Book VIII, The Boy Who Ate, had been an ancillary story that had taken place while visiting heaven during which he had been exposed to and given every food imaginable in order to enrich his palate. The final installment, Book IX, The Boy Who Made Wine, had been among the best where he had learned an ancient recipe using grapes harvested near the Tree of Life.

  He had wondered about a tenth book, but to date, no such book had surfaced. It had been a week since he had returned book nine, and with no sign of the twins or clues to proceed, he felt this was a great time to focus on Wendy and what she was cooking up. He had nearly forgotten the fun of working in the junkyard together.

  The bell then rang for the last time of the year, and students danced about, carelessly dropping papers and throwing them in crumpled balls that would eventually fall into the abyss of forgotten memories. Lockers were left open and emptied. Among the recyclable wreckage, there was a palpable air of relief among a sea of smiles. Summer plans occupied the minds of students and teachers alike.

  Noah and Wendy lazily pedaled their bikes into summer, losing themselves in conversation of vacation plans and what their futures would hold. It wasn’t until they reached Poplar Street, far enough away to be out of site of the school that signs of trouble were evident. They had been well on the way to Wendy’s house when she saw them first; all five of them. Noah’s attention had been focused on her, and when she stopped, suddenly, he searched for the reason.

  “Oh, great.” Wendy uttered. “What are you going to do? Run?”

  Noah bit his lip and stared at his adversaries, who were still a few hundred yards away. He answered deliberately, “I’m done running – sick of it actually.”

  Wendy was shocked and looked over at him. “Well, do you plan to fight them all?”

  “Nope. Just Mike. The rest will fall in line.”

  Wendy couldn’t believe her ears. “Wait… have you been taking Karate classes or something?”

  Noah smiled. “Something like that.” He knew he was no match for Nason’s physical size. But Noah was smarter. He quickly scanned the ground around him, and spotted it, right above the granite curb and lying on the grass – almost as if it were placed there just for him. He walked his bike over and picked it up. It was a rock, the size of a baseball cut in half. It fit in his hand perfectly with the flat edge exposed, its round back cupped in his palm.

  Most of his long held fears had subsided tremendously since he had found the book shop. He spent less time worrying about what was to come and more thoughts on the present. He wasn’t giving fear a chance to strike—he was simply shutting it down, without realizing it.

  As Nason and his gang approached, Noah stayed focused, while Mike pictured himself grabbing Noah by the neck and punching him in the face several times.

  Noah dropped his bicycle, turning his knuckles out on his dominant hand, the one that held the rock. He held his left hand down by his leg keeping the rock out of
sight.

  All bikes were dropped, domino-like.

  “I’m surprised you are not running like the little chicken that you are.” The gallery laughed. “You know, you got me kicked out of school and my house. I took a good beating, too, from my old man all because of you. Now it’s your turn to take a beating.”

  Noah stood facing the group with Mike in the front, but he felt sorry for him. And this feeling gave way to wanting to help him any way that he could. Suddenly, he wanted his friendship.

  “I’m sorry you hate me so much. I really didn’t want to tell, but you didn’t give me much choice. It was obvious what was going on Mike, everyone saw it. It was just a matter of time before the teachers would have figured it out, even if I kept my mouth shut. You can only rob the bank so many times before the authorities catch up with you, Mike.” Noah’s heart was racing. This was not what the group expected to hear.

  “I don’t care; I’m still gonna kick your ass. I’ve never liked you!”

  “You’re making a big mistake, Mike,” Noah yelled, one last verbal defense.

  It didn’t work. Nason was too thick-headed. He lunged at Noah, his hands splayed forward to grab him. Noah quickly side-stepped left and kicked him in the knee with the inside of his foot. Mike swore and leaned over to tend to his knee.

  “Now, you’re dead!” he yelled and charged Noah.

  Noah remained calm, taking each second as it came. Mike charged forward again, but this time, Noah side-stepped to the right, sticking his foot out and tripping him. Mike fell face first to the pavement. His onlookers were in shock, and Joe Dwyer shouted words of encouragement to his friend. The rest of the group pitched in as well. “Come on Mike. Get up! You got this guy. C’mon.”

  Mike picked himself up, his hate clearly displayed on his face. “You’re finished now, you little jerk!”

  He charged Noah again, swinging his arms and fists. Noah saw the first wrecking ball coming for his head from the right, but he easily ducked it. It was the left punch to follow that was a little more challenging. He shuffled back like an offensive lineman being pass-rushed. He separated himself just enough for Mike to throw another right, and then Mike leaned forward, just off balance and wide open enough for Noah to throw a left out of nowhere. He turned his hand exposing the rock and swung his arm like a catapult. When the flat edge of the rock caught Nason on the chin, there was a solid thud. He landed face up, knocked out, with blood running out of the corner of his mouth. The rest of the clan was shocked. One of them noticed something was in Noah’s hand.

  “Look,” he yelled. “He hit him with a rock.”

  “Now I’m going to teach him a lesson, ” Joe yelled, charging Noah.

  Wendy saw this and reacted unlike any other girl in her class. She stepped right in front of Joe, wound up and kicked him in the groin as hard as she could. Joe fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, hands covering his heirlooms, right next to his sleeping buddy.

  “Anyone else want to get kicked in the nuts?” Wendy lashed out. When no one replied, she finished. “Well good then, now we’ll just be on our way home. Thank you! Come on, Noah. Let’s get out of here.”

  He slid the rock into his pocket as he picked up his bike, following her lead. He left the scene a free boy – free to make the right decision. Free of being bullied. Free to bike the streets without any threat. Free to enjoy his summer; but most of all, free from the fear that had plagued his mind for so long.

  Chapter 20

  The Akashic Records are the records of time, the records of the great cosmic depths… indestructible tablets of astral light all stored moment to moment, life to life, from beginning to end, stored and filed alphabetically in the endless Hall of Records. The Hall of Records consists of endless corridors with clear shelving, aisles higher than the eye can see. The Akashic Records within those halls are, in essence, a system of lifetimes, each record serving as a chapter.

  For most living things, the Hall of Records acts as a holding place for stories of lives, and it is protected by two angels: Enoch and Elijah – twins in power and stature. They guard against demonic creatures often sent to snatch certain records to release evil energies into the physical world.

  These spiritual energies are capable of escaping from sacred texts and causing havoc. There is a balance with all things. Some stories kept in the great halls are stories of inspiration, love, and spiritual progressions. Spirits from these stories are ultimately destined for heaven and reward.

  But there are also those souls that have been poisoned by corruption, leaving their evil pasts to loom. They are unable to break their cycle of wrongdoing, and their rotten stench simmers between the locked covers of their respective records. All evil stories are placed under a special lock and key, guarded by the authority of the two mighty twins. If these stories were to escape their pages, then hell would most assuredly break loose on earth.

  Enoch and Elijah were hand-picked for this duty for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was because they could adjust their height to any size imaginable. They could stand on the earth’s surface and expand to the moon if desired, or shrink to the size of an atom. Both are fierce warriors skilled in the art of battle, and both yield a great axe and shield for combat. Their enemies know their strengths and try to keep distance. The twins are always watchful, as most enemies try to breach the halls by sneaking around them. The twins also have great noses for such dealings. They can smell an evil stench for miles, much like a bear can smell blood.

  Evil stories tend to vibrate and move at times, and these stories are collected and stored in a setting away from the rest in a secure cell that had been constructed by Enoch. The cell is an impenetrable chamber made of the finest tempered pink light. If any demon or creature of the damned were to fall out of this barrier, it would mean certain death because the light would propmtly melt them into cosmic dust – spiritual incineration.

  Initially, the twins attempted to keep the books on shelving inside a pink room, but that didn’t work. The energies in those books would slam back and forth, locked inside the covers like giant ocean waves smashing into rocks. Inevitably, the books would knock themselves off the shelves and writhe about on the floor in seizure. Every so often, the twins paid a visit to the pink rooms to clean up and reorganize the unsettled books and their resting places.

  There were far fewer terrifying stories than there were good ones. The good stories littered the halls above and served as tribute to good time spent from life to life. All loving creatures who pass away eventually visit the halls with their spirit guide. They watch the lives that they have just lived and understand every second – the good and the bad. They are rewarded for their selfless acts and learn from their self-loathing mistakes. They watch their lives in review and decide what they will still need to work on in their next life. They are completely debriefed and scored from the powers above before departing to go back, a higher score earning more time before the next departure. It is up to each individual spirit to master the physical world and break the cycle of return. Once they have done this, they can then come and go as they please, readying themselves through the passages of greater dimensional space. Very, very few are able to break the cycle. The discipline it takes is unbearable.

  Each story is an open book, inaccessible until physical passing when the angel of death cuts the silver cord connecting the soul and spirit essence to the physical body. Its life's chapter then ends and its cover is closed until further review. The only others who normally access the tablets, under watchful eye, are spirit guides and Lords of the Records – hooded worker bees who keep the records placed in perfect order.

  After the debriefing segment of a spiritual lifetime has taken place, the soul then goes to trial for review under the celestial courts. Here, sentencing has a positive connotation, and a soul hopes for the longest sentence possible. A sentence serves as a vacation in paradise. When the sentence period is up, it’s time for the soul to return to the physical world of pai
n for another lifetime. When life begins on the physical plane, all is forgotten, as time and the worries of man reign supreme. The battle is tough but a person must follow his heart and find the way to his soul if he ever wants to truly live.

  Over the centuries, Enoch and Elijah have gained wise experience in running and handling the Akashic Records, as well as great skills for the challenge. They must have the sharpest eye on all records at all times. Evil has been sent before to try to penetrate the halls, and it has been up to the twins and a few other angels of power to fend off assault. The twins are known as two of the most powerful angels among the greater dimensions, skilled in war and close combat. The devil himself would think twice before moving against them.

  Their weapon of choice is a double-sided axe with a shaft that hangs just below their waists. The weapons have been forged from the heavenly fires, like all weapons of the heavens, alive to the touch. All hands not accustomed to such implements are burned and dissolved into ash if the weapon is held long enough. The shining metal of the axe head mirrors living flames inside of it, flames that glow in fierce intensity when evil gets close. The flames of heaven’s fire never perish, as the weapons slice whatever they come in contact with. The twins carry their great axes alongside them, bolstered by a platinum belt one foot thick, much like a carpenter wears his hammer in a tool belt. But the weapon and belt are invisible to the naked eye of the physical world. Indeed, all is not what it seems.

  But for Noah Thomas, knowledge of this plan would come later. His consciousness was only just beginning to expand, and his eyes had never been more open to possibility. He was seeing more and more clearly. And though the twins had landed in Mid-Town in search of a lost tablet, they too were slowly gaining conviction that there was an even more important reason for their arrival.