by Tony Nalley
It was not the joy the balloon had brought into my life, nor its captivating allure but the loss of it that I have most remembered. I could but only stand upon that earth and watch it as its string slipped from my grasp to float freely up and out into the atmosphere, away from me! A place where no clouds obstructed its view and where no winds took it from site!
Mama told me that ‘my balloon was gone’ and that she was ‘really sorry. But that there was no way that I could ever get it back.’
I looked upon my mother’s face with eyes of innocence. And through it all I held on to hope.
And as the shadows of the day became the darkness of the night, my dreams led me to the mornin’ of the followin’ day.
And as I ran to my window and rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I saw the vision of my balloon hoverin’ just above the ground by which it had left! My balloon had returned!
There was no explanation, but aforethought.
Had the God of the universe held back the winds in answer to the still small prayer of a child such as me? Was it the balloon or its return to me that I was to remember?
Was its purpose that I relate this story to others as an example of God’s power even in the smallest of things?
I truly believe that it can be the smallest of things or in the littlest of events that make up who we are and who we are to become.
What had been gained from this small and seemingly unremarkable event, I may never know.
Maybe nothin’; but maybe it was an important somethin’, that God wanted me to remember.
***
July 1793
Two fractions of the Order followed Louis Philippe d’Orléans as he journeyed through the valley of Tornio River at the northern end of the Gulf of Bothnia, and as he traversed across Europe and to the Americas, never staying in one place for more than forty-eight hours at a time.
One sect sought only to protect the carrier of the ‘Sang Pierre’ (Blood Stone) and to shift control of it from the Aristocracy to the Church of Rome; making opportunity for him to meet with the Sulpicians as he sojourned to Havana, and giving him juncture to make the transition of the stone by his own accord.
The remaining sect sought only the death of the young royal and to take control of the ‘Sang Pierre’ for themselves.
As the eldest son of the reigning House of Bourbon, Louis Philippe d’Orléans was the ‘Prince du Sang’ (Prince of Blood), the keeper of the Stone of Blood (Sang Pierre) that was passed unto his family from the town of Valais. For the legend foretold that as long as it was kept safely within his bloodline, his kin would continue to sit upon the thrown.
The town of Valais lay in the Duchy of Savoy in southeastern France and Switzerland. Under the reign of Charles VII in the fifteenth century, Witch trials were conducted by Church and Crown; trials of witchcraft that included lycanthropy; the act of humans changing themselves into unnatural beasts, embracing the call of the ‘werewolf'.
Legends spoke of an innocence lost; of the most beautiful young maiden a Royal’s eye had ever seen, with flowing locks of auburn hair and eyes of emerald green. She was a commoner girl born into the world barely sixteen summers old. He had spoken to her as she had passed him in the fields and he had thanked her as she had drawn water for him from his well.
Her speech was as soft as a whisper, and as delicate to him as an orchid flower; just as he imagined her skin to be.
Lust consumed him for the want of her flesh as he followed her with his eyes.
The Royal’s wife however, was consumed all the more with jealousy and rage! For as you see; she was in secret, a practitioner herself in the darkened arts of witchcraft; and with brewed potion, by darkened night and stolen lock of hair, she cast unto the girl this spell.
“Des flames et le feu Oh bête vorace brûlera sur son site. Oh l'esprit du toucher liésessence qui marche au milieu de la nuit. En Lieue Tarifaire et de pied du roi par quatre-vingts chaînes Gunter, à la poussière de retour si l’automne l'ombre sans lui de s'abstenir. De peur que sera le retour du sang ou le nom de libérer tes os innocents, qui se trouvait entre un enfer inconnu, au sein de la pierre en martyr.”
“Of flame and fire oh ravenous beast shall burn upon her site. Oh spirit bound of essence touch that walks amidst the night. In lieue tarifaire and pied du roi by eighty Gunter’s chain, to dust return if shadow fall without her to refrain. Lest Will return of blood or name to free thy innocent bones, that lay betwixt an unknown hell, within a Martyr’s stone.”
And so the curse was spoken and the beautiful young maiden was accused of witchcraft and was cast into the fires! And all who witnessed her death by flame became the ravenous beast! From the ashes came the Martyr’s stone, the blood of the innocent; the ‘Sang Pierre’; a blood curse that would be handed down throughout the line of Kings.
A blood curse is the strongest and most difficult of all to be broken. Such was the curse Man brought upon himself in the Garden of Eden. It was a curse that would be passed from Father to son throughout the generations, but not through ‘the iniquity of the mothers’. Adam, not Eve was the head of the household. It was upon him then to carry the responsibility of the human race. When he chose to disobey God, he did so with his eyes open. Eve was deceived, not Adam. And so he was responsible for sin to pass from generation to generation. Scripture does not attribute sin to be passed from the mother to her children; this is how Jesus could be born of a woman, but not of sinful flesh.
Genesis 3:6 so the woman (seeing that the tree was good for meat, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired, to get knowledge) took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave also to her husband with her, and he did eat.
In the years that followed, the legend of the werewolf spread throughout the lands.
For as the full moon sat at apex in the celestial skies, they in turn were hunted by mortal man.
Fear and death ensued as those who were cursed were driven from the town of Valais.
And the earth’s climate changed, spreading famine across the continents of Europe and Asia.
The ‘Sang Pierre’ came then to the city of Lystra, where it remained for a time and many families of the clan of the wolf called it home.
But as the seat of power and KingsPalace moved to Paris from Troyes, the royal families took up residence within the old city as well. Those that followed did so in secret, taking the duty upon themselves of protecting the ‘Prince du Sang’ as well as the stone he carried.
As guardians they called themselves‘the Order’ (L’ordre choisi du Loup), and embraced their walk as one of perfect design.
While in Paris ‘the Order’ found themselves set apart by unnaturally long life. For the curse held that whosoever remained within the sphere of the stone’s influence would remain suspended in time; ageless, while a mortal’s death would follow those who walked outside of its persuasion, returning then to the dust of the fields.
And so, as the centuries passed, the Order’s influence spread, growing as their offspring immersed themselves into the general populations; and becoming an integral part of the overall structure of France. They took up offices in government while still others attained higher offices than Parliament, though history would not record their contributions. For by sacred oath, knowledge of the Order and the identities of its members would remain shrouded in a cloud of closely guarded secrecy.
As the end of the age drew to conclusion, the Reign of Terror crescendoed in Paris, bringing with it executions of Aristocracy, manufactured solely for public display.
Rivalries within the Order became divisive then as one sect embraced these Revolutionary ideals, giving in to their more carnal inclinations and embraceing the ‘New Religion of Reason’; garnering their might behind the forces of tyranny, and seeking to usurp the ‘Sang Pierre’, to create a new, more perfect Order!
Those who remained true to their Christian faith and purpose severed all ties to their bloodline.
And the ‘Order’ was broken.
>
Six
By a Single Candle’s Light
Mr. Jones was a friend of mine. He reminded me alot of my grandpa.
He was our next door neighbor on Daughtry when I was five. And he didn’t mind at all when I would crawl through the hole in our bushes that separated our yards, and come over for breakfast some mornin’s.
He was a tall, thin gray haired man and he always wore a tan uniform. He lived all alone in the house with the exception of a lady who worked for him as his maid. Her name was Ms. Lillie. She was the first black lady I’d ever met and she was very nice to me.
Ms. Lillie always wore a blue polka dotted dress with a white apron and she would cook bacon and eggs for me whenever I would come over to visit!
“Good mornin’, Ms. Lillie.” I said standing on the stone steps lookin’ up at her through the screen door.
“Well, good morning there, Mr. Toby! How are you doing this fine morning?” she replied.
“I’m doin’ real fine Ms. Lillie.” I said thinkin’ of the right words to say to get me invited inside to eat. “I smelled your good cookin’ all the way over there from my yard! And I thought I would just come over here and say hello to you.”
“Well why don’t you just come on in here then and get yourself something to eat?” she said openin’ the kitchen door for me and invitin’ me in. “Just sit yourself down there at the table and I’ll get some bacon on the stove for you.” she said smilin’ at me. “How do you like your eggs?”
“I like my eggs just fine Ma’am.” I said as she continued to smile.
Mr. Jones was sittin’ down in his chair, with his plate of breakfast in front of him. And I climbed up in the chair directly across the table from him and said hello.
“Good mornin’ Mr. Jones!” I said all kind and cheerful like.
Mr. Jones smiled and nodded his head as he scraped up the last of the eggs from his plate and took another bite.
As the bacon sizzled on the stove, the sound of fresh eggs broken in a skillet made my mouth water. The wonderful smells of breakfast foods filled the entire room! Just then, a slight tappin’ noise could be heard from just outside the kitchen door.
“Hello Ms. Lillie and Mr. Jones.” A voice came in softly through the screen. “Is Toby over here again?”
I would never tell my mama where I was goin’. I don’t know why I wouldn’t tell her. Maybe I would simply see the hole located in the bushes between our two yards and would have to make a run for it! I just don’t know. I wouldn’t be gone for very long though, before she would come and find me! She generally found me at the precise time my food was ready to be served! With my mouth waterin’ and my heart set upon a pleasant breakfast shared amongst friends, she would find me and take me right home!
“I’m so sorry Mr. Jones. I’m sorry if he’s disturbing you.” Mama said as Ms. Lillie opened the door for her. She came in and stood in the walkway.
“It’s alright Maria, he’s in good company,” Mr. Jones said as he winked and then smiled at me like a Cheshire cat.
Mama was always apologizin’ to Mr. Jones and Ms. Lillie for my many visits. I never could understand why. I knew she never liked me playin’ over there near Mr. Jones’s cellar door cause it was so dark and I could fall in, but they liked for me to visit em’ and they liked to feed me too! At least that’s what they always told me anyways.
Mr. Jones once told me that Snow White and the Seven Dwarves lived down in his basement! He said that, ‘if I looked through the vent in his living room floor, that I could see them playing down there’!
I believed Mr. Jones. And I would lie on that floor looking down through the dark metal screen for what seemed like hours, lookin’ for a glimpse of those seven dwarves. I couldn’t tell time. It might’ve only been a few minutes in real life but it sure did feel like a long time to me!
Lyin’ there upon that hardwood floor peerin’ through that cold black metallic screen, my imaginations lead me into whole different worlds filled with strange and wonderful things!
I could never see em’ though; the dwarves in the basement I mean. I thought I did a time or two, but they turned out to be only speckled bits of dust I imagined.
It was hard for me to believe at the time that Mr. Jones had Snow White and the Seven Dwarves livin’ down in his basement and yet he wouldn’t let me play with em’! That puzzled me.
I guess he thought I might scare em’ away.
One afternoon as he sat beneath the shade of a peach tree in his back yard, Mr. Jones told me that the seed he held in his hand was really an ostridge egg! Lucky for him, I didn’t know what an ostridge egg was at the time. Or maybe it was unlucky for him, dependin’ upon how you looked at it. I believed Mr. Jones so therefore it must have been true. Although, I’d to admit that I did have my doubts!
I am not sure why he laughed at me when he caught me takin’ a second look at that peach tree though, but I didn’t mind.
I found out a few years ago that Mr. Jones had never married.
From what my mama told me, through old newspaper clippings that had been pieced together and from old letters that he had written and kept hidden away, we found that Mr. Jones had once been very much in love.
She had been beautiful. He had asked her to be his wife and she had told him ‘yes’. But in a tragic turn of events, an automobile accident had taken her life.
I could almost imagine him sittin’ there, alone in his room by his bedroom light; as he read and reread her letters.
Though many years had passed, he had never stopped lovin’ her.
They found a picture of me, my mama, my daddy and my baby sister on the top of his television set the day after Mr. Jones went to heaven. We still have that picture. And we will always remember him.
Mr. Jones was a friend of mine.
***
September 1793
Two men stood in shadows within hallowed chambers, deep within the catacombs beneath Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, assessing the details of their departure and seeking wisdom from the word of God.
Much had changed within this old city in such a very small, almost infinitesimal amount of time.
While the Revolution had thrown down the Catholic doctrines that had suppressed its people through strife and inquisitions, it had brought with it extreme liberal and atheistic ideologies.
The de-Christianization had begun at first throughout the country of France, with the sacrilege of the Church and its people; churches became stables, warehouses, and pigsties.
Christian altars were used as urinals. Sanctuaries were desecrated where pagan rituals and extreme sexual perversions were performed and statues of Saints were beheaded. The one true God had been replaced in the eyes of the people via the new French government under the leadership of Maximilien Robespierre.
Over the course of a few months France had all but eradicated its Christian principles, teachings and houses of worship. Notre Dame Cathedral had itself been turned into a ‘Temple de la Raison’ (Temple of Reason), a temple of a new religion, created to replace Christianity where great liberal minds such as Rousseau and Voltaire sat upon alters of worship.
Werewolves danced in the open then, in the carnage and fury amidst ritual fires that raged high against the night’s sky! Where whiskey and smoke met with a confused reason, and from where mortal man could no longer distinguish themselves from the animal that was the beast!
“Un emplacement doit être décidée prochainement….” Un homme déclaré. “…Si notre démarche est d’être un succès.”
“A location must be decided upon soon…,” One man stated. “…if our move is to be a successful one.”
“Laissez-nous chercher le conseil de Dieu, et prier pour sa sagesse.” Dit l’autre, comme il ouvrit le livre qui se trouvait devant eux et lire les mots, en plaçant ses doigts sur chaque verset.
“Let us seek the council of God and pray for His wisdom.” said the other man as he opened the book that lie before them and read from the words, p
lacing his fingers upon each verse.
“Mais pour la femme a donné deux ailes du grand aigle, afin qu’elle puisse s’envoler vers le désert, vers son lieu, où elle est nourrie un temps, des temps, et une demi-heure, de la présence du serpent.” (Apocalypse 12:14)
“But to the woman were given two wings of a great Eagle, that she might fly into the wilderness, into her place, where she is nourished for a time, and times, and half a time, from the presence of the serpent.” (Revelation 12:14)
The eagle was adopted by the Congress of the United States on June 20, 1782 as their national symbol.
