David would drive to Aberdeen to take a twenty-minute Sampan boat ride with the old man. He would pick his brains and discuss spiritual issues. David had connected a common thread across seven distinct cultures. This thread transcended different periods in time, located in unique places across the globe.
Each culture would have their version of an afterlife. It was a commonly held belief that the soul or spirit leaves the physical body and goes to a special place. Through the ages different names have been associated with this place. It could be Valhalla, Heaven, Duat or any label that makes sense. What fascinated David was a common story that each culture had managed to embrace. In the mountains of Peru or the flat plains of the Egyptian desert, the common thread existed. During the dark ages of Medieval Europe or spanning the ancient warriors of China’s Dynasties, the common thread existed. Across the frozen northlands of the Inuit or the bleak beautiful lands of the Vikings, the common thread existed. From oral traditions passed down by the Hopi Indians to the warlords of Japan, the common thread existed. Throughout the eastern tribes of Africa, the common thread existed. Within the native Indians of Canada and across the vastness of the Ottoman Empire, the common thread existed. So many cultures believed in this common thread. It was integrated into their art, stories, legends and culture. David had become hooked and wanted to learn all he could. It was a controversial topic and he would be subject to ridicule if he were too enthusiastic. He was a successful businessman and people would tolerate his interest to a point.
Rich people are often known to be eccentric. This characteristic is often considered to be charming. Questions would still be asked about his ability to run a multi-billion dollar organization. Shareholders would be concerned about his judgment. David was wary about his interests when he was questioned. He disguised his interest as a fascination in collecting unusual art. This was seen as a safe way for him to conduct his studies. David was interested in the afterlife. He firmly believed that the body was merely a temporary housing for the spirit. After death, the spirit would travel to a place described so vividly by many cultures. What fascinated David was the enduring story. This story had manifested in many forms across the ages. It had repeated across many varied cultures. It was told differently but the common thread was always there.
Was it possible, under certain conditions, you could enter the afterlife through a gate? This method of entry has been described as a path, a gate, a lake, a boat ride, a tear in time, a shaft of light and an energy portal, among other descriptions. Does such a portal exist? Can a living person enter into the afterlife? Can they return? David had spoken with countless near death patients. He had determined each experience was different. The stories David collected involved fully conscious and living people. They possessed powers, enabling them to pass through a portal. Why would such a story perpetuate as widely as it has, if it were not based on some truth?
Throughout history, various groups had formed to protect or expose this thought. This added to the mystique. Exaggerations and deliberate red herrings were planted, to throw investigators off the scent. David had collected ancient manuscripts written in Latin, Arabic, Hebrew and languages that were long since dead. Ancient Egyptian tablets, scrolls and carvings adorned his expensive condominium suite. Visitors often admired the art but never seemed to connect the common theme linking each of the pieces. He had acquired artifacts from all over the world, spanning countless ages and cultures. He now had the largest collection of evidence pointing to alternate pathways to the afterlife.
Sakura shuffled her weight as she pressed her phone to her ear. “She made her money in fashion, she’s bright and exceptionally motivated. She runs her own company and she’s gorgeous,” enthused David.
A playful thought coursed through Sakura’s veins. The warm coffee slipped down her throat and gave her lackluster body a jolt of energy. “So, you want some womanly advice because you have designs on this woman?” teased Sakura.
“Not quite, although she is gorgeous. I’m just not ready to settle down yet, too much of a party boy.” David laughed with his trademark raucous laugh.
“So what’s so interesting about her, that you’re calling me at midnight?” asked Sakura with a growing curiosity.
“She’s rich, powerful, politically connected and gorgeous but here’s the kicker. Most successful people are driven, fuelled by something. With everything that she has going for her, she still feels inadequate and unhappy. She seems to have a hole in her heart, one that will never heal. She’s an orphan. Her parents abandoned her and she was raised in some pretty bad orphanages. When she told me this, I thought of your work. I mentioned the fine work that you’re doing in Sonagachi and with other orphanages in India. She seemed interested and wanted to talk with you, about starting a similar organization in the Philippines. I didn’t know if you would be interested but….”
“I would,” interrupted Sakura.
“Then I’ll forward you her contact information and perhaps this will lead to some good.”
“What were you doing in the Philippines David?”
“You know me, I’m always combining business with pleasure. I was interested in a business deal and was meeting some wealthy investors.”
“And?” she inquired.
“You know me too well Sakura. And, I had heard of an artifact. Hundreds of years ago boats were used to transport supplies and all kinds of exotic goods to the Philippines. These boats contained large slabs of stone used for ballast, deep within their hulls. Some boats never made it but some removed the stones when they reached port. The weight was replaced with cargo for the return journey. You can still see these large slabs of stone today in the Philippines. Some are incorporated into Churches. They were used for corner stones or large stone steps. This type of quarried stone is rare in the Philippines. Rich merchants would use the stone for court yards but Churches took the lions share.”
“Come on David, cut to the chase.”
“Sorry, you know how much I like this stuff. One of the stones had some unusual markings carved into the rock. The stone had been removed from a boat. Nobody could trace the stone’s origins prior to it being used as ballast. The stone had a past, far beyond the construction of the boat. Neat eh?”
“Stop teasing me with the ‘eh’ word. Not all Canadians say eh,” barked Sakura.
“Sorry, couldn’t resist. One of the local monks had an interest in scriptures and styles of writing. He’d spotted the strange markings on the stone. The stone was destined for use in an extension to the Church. He decided to use parchment and some charcoal to preserve the entire image. The stone was to be chiseled into pieces and used for construction. The resulting parchment was kept in the Church vaults for years. When the monk died, he was placed in a room with other dignitaries. It’s like a columbarium where modern day ashes are stored, only these are walls of full sized coffins. It was a coffin condominium.” David laughed at the ridiculousness of his statement. “Anyway, once the monk had passed the parchment seemed to disappear. Many years later the basement of the Church was being cleaned and the parchment was located. The basement was dark, wet and cold but somehow the parchment had survived.”
Sakura was enjoying the story and remained attentive. “I wanted to see the parchment. It had been so badly damaged that eventually it broke into small fragments. Fortunately, a local priest had an interest in preserving the history of the Church. He re-arranged the damaged pieces into a jigsaw puzzle of sorts. He copied the intricate designs and preserved the original message in a leather bound book, stored in the archive of the old Church. A friend of mine knew the current priest and alerted me to the recent flooding. The Philippines were recovering from this flood when I got the call. The Church was badly damaged and the roof had caved in from the storm. After emptying the storage areas an old book containing scribbles was found. My friend knew it was old and knew I would like to have it. I took a journey to see the book.”
“Did you like what you saw?”
&nbs
p; “Sakura it was incredible. The book is a copy but the message is original. It was an Egyptian script, a message from long ago. If this had been a stone tablet, I would have had to give it back to the Egyptian authorities. Because it’s a book, and a copy, well all I can say is that it’s mine now.”
“Have you had it translated yet?”
“Yes. I had several people each working on a specific section. I’ll need to fill you in when we meet face-to-face next. I’m excited though. It talks about a gate and the ability to enter into this gate as a mortal. The gate is a two-way gate with the ability to let spirits pass through the other way. It’s called the possessed gate, roughly translated. So I’m right Sakura. People were talking about these gates three thousand years ago, can you imagine that?”
“They just gave you the book?” said Sakura missing the revelation of a two-way gate.
“No. I donated some money to repair the roof and build a drainage system to prevent future flooding. The Priest knew I had an interest in the book and asked how I could help them. At the time I didn’t even know what I had. It’s now the jewel of my entire collection. It’s like a repayment from God for helping the Church.”
“Why do I detect a tinge of sarcasm,” said Sakura smiling.
“Remember it’s a copy of the damaged stone rubbing, but it’s magnificent. It’s exactly what I want. It talks about the Servants of Byblos and the existence of a portal. Boring stuff to you, but for me this is the Holy Grail. I’m so excited.”
Sakura had no idea what David was talking about but humored him. “I’m happy for you. Now, when do you think I can reach out to your nameless woman in the Philippines?”
“I’m sorry Sakura, I got carried away there. I’ll send you her details as soon as we hang up. She’s not only expecting your call, she’s looking forward to talking with you and hoping that you two can do business together.”
“Great! Thanks for this David; you know how much I truly appreciate this.”
“I do and good luck my friend. Sakura, I’ve never told you this before but I do admire the work you do for others.”
It was the first time that David had referred to Sakura as a friend and she liked it. “Thanks David, and have a great night.” Sakura and David disconnected. She felt a little guilty for not letting David continue to explain why he was so excited. He was doing a nice thing and didn’t have to make the referral. David had easily brushed off her joke about his amorous intensions towards this woman. She often wondered about him. Her recent trips to Hong Kong exposed her to the rumors about David. Stories repeated around Wan Chai confirmed that David certainly liked the ladies. He couldn’t limit himself to just one. That was his problem. When you are young, fit and rich Hong Kong will supply you with as many beautiful women as you need. David always had a beautiful girl on his arm at every charity event. The high society women sniggered at him behind his back. He would always have a different woman but she would always look the same. David had a penchant for slim Asian women with long dark hair. He would insist they styled their hair with severe bangs and were always tall and leggy. His penchant for anything Egyptian had transferred into an ideal image of a woman. His gorgeous dates could have been transported across time from the palaces of the Egyptians.
Sakura sat back and enjoyed her coffee. “The possessed gate,” she repeated. The stress of the day rolled away and she felt good about her conversation with David. She remembered the snide remarks made by certain high society women. David had his faults but Sakura knew him as a hard worker who was good at what he did. He treats his workers fairly and they are extremely loyal to him. He was kind and generous. David liked the ladies, well so what? There are far worse crimes of humanity. David didn’t need to help Sakura with the referral: that was nice. She leaned back and smiled. It was then that she noticed she was being watched. A man opposite caught her eye. He was a bit younger than her but he ran his eyes up her leg and was embarrassed as he raised his gaze. Sakura’s piercing brown eyes met the man’s stare. He immediately looked away and pretended to be ambivalent.
It was time to go. Sakura had an hour-long drive back to Toronto. She should leave now before the traffic started to fill in. She didn’t want to get caught in the daily congestion. “Good old David,” she heard herself say.
“Thanks, come again,” said a perky teenage redhead girl, as she cleared away the table.
Sakura nodded and smiled politely. She noticed the man had turned his attention to the young redhead and she smiled knowingly as she left. Sakura headed for her parked car and positioned herself in the driver’s seat. She exhaled deeply as she placed her hands upon the steering wheel. She reached for her sunglasses and slid them on. The sun was bright and caressed her face. She tilted her face to accept the warm rays.
* * * * *
Haworth, West Yorkshire, England, Present day.
Beth tilted her face to accept the warm rays. The evening sun was a welcome change. Beth felt lonely. She had been the center of a lot of attention and had talked with many people, but she still felt lonely. Beth had often wondered how you could live in New York or Tokyo surrounded by so many people and still feel so lonely? She had read about this in novels and experienced it through movies. Surrounded by the end of the day tourists she now understood lonely. Beth headed home in a daze, her mind wandering as she tried to rationalize why Matt had left? Fragments of conversations swirled in her head. She recalled the surveillance video that the police had shown her. She recalled a comment she had made to the policewoman at the station. “He’s acting like he’s possessed. Possessed,” that word rattled around her brain as she passed people in her trance.
Matt had uncharacteristically disappeared and was now acting strange. Perhaps he was possessed? It would certainly explain his odd behavior. Beth picked up her pace. Matt had left her; she must get on with her life and deal with it. That was the part that stung like a fresh bee sting. She trusted Matt and for the first time in her life, felt she had something special. Now she felt hollow and used. She didn’t deserve this.
Beth approached the door of her cottage, as the sun retreated over the steep hill. It was darker and colder in the shade of the building. She shivered as she entered, closing the door on the world outside. Beth started to cry then sobbed deeply.
* * * * *
Chapter 16: Hope is Nature’s Veil
Haworth, West Yorkshire, England, Present day.
Beth dropped the spoon into her teacup and jumped backwards, recoiling from the loud knock at the door. The cottage had an electric doorbell, but the button was hard to see and no one seemed to use it. She scurried from the kitchen and leaned across a chair, near the window. From this vantage point, she could see out of the window and onto the front step. She could see who was knocking, without opening the door. Beth recognized the silhouette of the tall man standing on her top step. The distinctive uniform and hat indicated PC Eric Bates had decided to visit. It was getting dark and the wind was picking up again. She moved to the door and unlatched the brass mechanism.
“Hello Beth, I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, I was just doing my rounds and I noticed your light on. I know most people don’t like to see the police on their front step,” he said in a jovial manner.
“We are governed not by armies and police, but by ideas.” It sounded a bit snide but Beth didn’t mean it to be.
“I wanted to see if you were okay, is this a good time?” he said, ignoring her comment.
“Sure. Come on in, I could use some company.”
PC Bates looked puzzled, trying to figure out her mood. “I don’t mean to intrude?”
“No problem really, I just brewed up a fresh pot of tea. You look cold, want some?” Beth turned her back and headed for the kitchen.
PC Bates removed his hat with his right hand. He stooped to enter the cottage and closed the heavy wooden door behind him. It closed with a solid thud.
The Skin of the Gods Page 22
