“Did you see what car he left in?” I asked.
“No. I didn’t see that because they walked away from the front of the store. Another customer came in and I had to serve her. When she left, I looked out into the parking lot but no one was there.”
I thanked her and left the store running to the car. “Let’s go back to that church,” I said abruptly without looking at Kevin.
“What church, Teller?” It was at that point that I decided that Kevin never really paid any attention to me or what I said, most times anyway. However, he did look like something was on his mind and perhaps that was causing his obvious distraction.
The rain intensified as we drove back toward the church and my head was once again spinning. Kevin said nothing as he concentrated on his driving. I wondered why the veiled ones were back and what it really was that they were, or represented. Fear had turned to anger with them for scaring my wife and then scaring me. I wondered if what was under those veils were as hideous they seemed to be in my mind. They did nothing but stand in place without uttering a word or even making a sound, a hideous insult to our tranquility.
Watching the road ahead, I wondered how this night was going to end or whether or not was it going to end? There were things going on now that a year ago would have been beyond my comprehension.
I never thought myself as anything but of average intelligence; however, since my journey to the other side, new doors had opened wide for me and what was coming through established a whole field of knowledge gained through experience and communication with the dead. Beyond the fear created by this was the wonder of life everlasting. I had a new understanding that there really was something beyond physical death. The path of the journey to God lay just beyond the final breath but it was somehow a continuation of what was on this side… but maybe with less baggage.
Kevin was silent, seemingly focused on his driving through the perilous conditions caused by the pouring rain and the now gusting wind. The car swerved as we went around a corner and through a deep puddle. The wind was blowing the rain horizontally as Kevin flashed the headlights to high beam and back, then back to high. I could hardly see anything in front or on the side of me as the rain assaulted the windshield.
We pulled into the parking lot of the church and up to the front door. Kevin rolled the car to a stop and turned to me with glassiness in his eyes. He nodded his head toward the church door and then got out of the car, struggling somewhat with the door which was being blown shut by the gale-force wind hitting us. I was feeling the same thing as I struggled to get out of the car. When I did, I had a strong feeling of déjà vu, for this church and the weather were exactly what was projected onto the wall at Teresa’s house back in Cohoes, New York.
Standing on the steps was someone who made me stop dead in my tracks. I was frozen in place, staring at Harry Rosenman who was, in turn, staring at me expressionless.
Finally, I realized that this just could not be Harry Rosenman because he would have been much older than this man appeared, standing there in front of the church. He was short, and wore horn rimmed glasses. Facially he resembled former president Harry S. Truman. I remembered kidding him about looking like the war time president. He seemed to like my comparison back then.
The man smiled at me strangely as he turned and went through the doors into the church.
I fought the wind which sent an icy blast as I opened the door and led Kevin in. At first the lobby was welcoming… a relief from the terrible weather outside. But then as I moved forward into the church, I saw it filled with people who stood absolutely silent, motionless just staring at us. There was a smell of smoke as a mist filled the air. I walked very slowly up the aisle toward the altar, looking into the faces of those staring at me. I let out a loud gasp as I walked past an aisle which was empty except for a veiled one, standing in the usual motionless way. Then suddenly it moved right at me. I fell backward and felt a sharp pain in my chest. Suddenly, everything went black. I don’t know how long I was out but when I regained consciousness my eyes opened to see Kate looking at me, her face wore a pained expression. “Tell, are you alright? What happened?” She kept looking from me to something deeper in the church, and then back to me, and then back at whatever was further in the church.
“Dad… Dad!” Dennis’s voice was getting closer with each utterance until I saw him standing looking down at me with an expectant concerned look flashing across his chiseled face.
I struggled to sit up and then was helped to my feet by Dennis. I had trouble regaining my focus and reached for the side of a pew which was a foot or so from me.
The church was packed and as I steadied myself on my feet it appeared to be filled with a mist lighted from the floor up, rendering a strange cast on the faces of those sitting in the pews who were all turned my way and staring intently.
I called upon my Chi Gung breathing techniques to regain my balance and sense of center. Gathering the vital energy into my Tan Tien (Absolute Center), a 6 inch energy ball just below my navel, I was desperately trying to clear my head.
“Dennis, why in the world are you here?” I said quietly with great confusion in my voice and a heart that was pounding, probably caused by the stress of wondering if I was about to have yet another heart attack.
“You don’t know, Tell?” questioned Kevin, who’d walked up behind me. His demeanor was strange as he chuckled like the proverbial cat with the telltale feathers floating about him. “You need to keep moving forward,” he continued, as he took my arm and led our group toward the altar. And there, standing in the center facing the congregation, was the good Doctor Keough, dressed in a black suit, shirt and white tie.
I took my arm from Kevin’s firm grip only to have it replaced this time, accompanied by my son’s firm hand.
I turned to Dennis and asked again, “Why are you here? You’re supposed to be in Spain.” I stumbled to the church floor and once again felt everything go black, but as I was passing over to the blackness of unconsciousness, the congregation started buzzing like a giant beehive. In the blackness I heard a familiar sound, the beautiful music I had heard in Glory, California. I felt myself being lifted toward it. Suddenly I began dancing and all around me were giant white feathers floating in concert with the music. There was darkness lighted from a floor with the dancing feathers in full illumination. From a shadow came a familiar voice, and then another manifested, that of the child, Uncle Joe. The first manifested voice was Brother Scheible who said over and over, “Do not say the word smoothly. Do not say it softly. Do not say it quietly. Shout it out, Jeremy!”
“I will not say it at all. I know what they want and I won’t do it.” The music continued and I went on dancing as I expressed my absolute defiance against being made to say the word. But what word was it we were all animated about?
“Jeremy, the word is the true name of God.” The words came from Joe with the authority of experience. The music was intoxicating and I was dancing and spinning, yet I was talking with two spirits — or were they hallucinations?
Kevin and a strange looking man were taking turns doing CPR on my motionless form. The buzz of conversation around the church continued and my wife stood motionless staring at me lying on the floor… her hand to her mouth… holding her breath.
“Don’t let him die… do not let him die… not yet,” said Keough, regarding me as I lay there not breathing.
The return into my body caused a loud cough as consciousness restored. Kevin picked me up. “Come on Teller, it’s time.” He practically dragged me onto the altar where I stood looking out at faces which were coming into focus and becoming familiar. These were people I had known throughout my life, but were now dead. Every one of them was dead. There was my grammar school principle Mr. Schimberg and beside him stood Miss Williams, the dental nurse who was haunted by the ghost of a bride. I recalled the neighborhood story, when I was a child, of Miss Williams being awakened from a sound sleep one night and coming face to face with the ghost of a
bride whose veiled face was the thing I remembered most from the story. Then there was Mike Hickey who stared at me from behind expressionless eyes. He was my hero when I was a kid; I watched him play shortstop on one of the neighborhood baseball teams.
A buzz of anticipation ran through the church as a tall slender man with a sharp face and black eyes appeared to my right. He was holding a sword close to his leg as he approached and then passed me, walking right up to my son Dennis. Two men standing on either side of him forced Dennis to his knees, ordering him to lower his head. I realized that my son was about to be beheaded and I screamed at the executioner as I stumbled toward him.
“You will say the Name of God! Or he will die, right here, right now, at your feet,” warned Dr. Keough as he pointed at Dennis.
Then Kate got right in Keough’s pudgy face yelling, “You son of a bitch! You son of a bitch, if you harm him you will feel my breath on your neck as I chase you back to hell! This was not supposed to happen this way!” She collapsed into herself then turned saying to me, “Teller, they promised me your healing and success for our son. They promised me.”
“The name Teller, the name,” came the chanting voices from around the church. “Say the name, Teller.”
Keough signaled the man with the sword which he raised over Dennis’s extended neck.
“If you do this, Keough, I swear to you that I will not speak ever again.” I said in a whispered defiance as I inched toward him.
“Take her!” Keough shouted, pointing at Kate. Two men came out of the crowd and grabbed Kate, forcing her to kneel beside Dennis, with her head down.
“You might as well do the same with me, you arrogant bastard,” I said as I dropped to my knees with head bent in expectation of what I saw as inevitable. I again did the deep breathing my teacher had taught me to do whenever I was in deep danger. And once again, it restored me somewhat.
“Then listen, Teller, to the sound of your wife’s voice as she says her last words to you. Listen.” Keough furiously hissed at me.
I closed my eyes awaiting the horrible moment when the love of my life would no longer be sharing existence with me. I waited and as I did, the beautiful music from Glory started very faintly at first and then grew louder.
“Aye, lad. Do you hear that? ‘Tis the song of God Himself and it is being played for you.” It was Mee- hawl. It was Mee-hawl speaking in a voice that sounded like a breeze originated in Ireland. “Say what is in your heart, Teller. Say it.
Suddenly my mouth filled with what was in my heart as I spoke some of my most favorite words:
“The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters.”
“You have just killed your wife, Teller!” Keough screamed at me as I continued.
“He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’ sake.”
I was surprised that I had the strength to leap to my feet and look out at the crowd and then at Keough who stood next to the motionless body of my beloved Kate. He blocked my vision as I tried to see her.
“And now for your son.” He spoke with absolute hatred for me.
It felt good to be so hated by evil. I repeated loudly, “The righteousness for His names sake!”
I stared straight ahead as I continued, “All things in God’s time. No matter what… all things in God’s time. He is total and all knowing. No one and nothing can stand against Him.”
“The light bearer can. He has been driving the Lord God crazy since the beginning of time,” boasted Keough, “and now he will have his chance to stand before the Lord God and challenge His decision of ripping him from heaven and then unmercifully casting him into the pit, which was an abomination.” He whirled around me with the grace of a fencer, smiling, as if he held all the cards in a high stakes game of poker. “Do you think that he was shown any mercy, the very same mercy others received many times over, for doing a lot less to anger God?”
“If you take any of our lives your lord will not have the chance he is looking for,” I said, looking straight into his blazing eyes.
“The Name, Teller… the Name… speak the Name!” Everyone in the church was now on their feet shouting at me. I looked from them to Keough, then to my son who was kneeling with his neck extended, awaiting the sword poised above him.
As the swordsman delicately touched Dennis on the neck as if marking his spot, he looked toward Keough for a signal. My heart dropped with surrender to the inevitable as the sword was raised.
“Say what is in your heart, lad.” It was Mee-hawl again. I looked for him but he was not in view anywhere I looked.
I watched as the sword began to fall toward Dennis’s neck and suddenly a word came into my mind and then out of my mouth as I shouted, “Aingye! Aingye!”
Time stopped, then there was a blinding flash… and screaming, horrible screaming. Suddenly the smell of burning became overwhelming. I choked and fell forward on my face with eyes burning from the smoke that had suddenly filled the church. “Aingye! Aingye!” I shouted again between coughs.
Suddenly there was quiet. As the smoke cleared my eyes stopped burning. I perched on my elbows, looking around; I saw the bodies of my wife and my son, as they lay absolutely still.
Other than Kate, Dennis and myself there was no one left in the church. I kept my eyes on Kate as I struggled to my feet.
I looked down for a split second, and when I looked up again, there standing in front of me was my Uncle Joe. For the first time he had a smile on his face. “They are alive, Teller.” He pointed toward the still motionless bodies of my wife and son.
“Your lips to God’s ears,” I responded, almost automatically.
I looked toward them again, but they were still motionless. However, to my great and sudden relief, neither of them were headless.
Brother Scheible made his way down the aisle with a focused look fixed on his broad face. He stopped before the bodies of my wife and son. Looking down at them he said to me, “In all cultures throughout the world there is an “ah” sound in the names they have for the Creator. Be it Judah, Jevhova, Josua, Abba.” He looked at me and walked on to the back of the altar and into the shadows of the hall.
I jumped when I heard, “Lad… now let me hear you say “Ah.” Mee-hawl was now standing with us. “Go on now, say it.”
My head started to spin again. I paused for a moment as Mee-hawl gestured toward my wife and son, guiding me to action.
“Ah” came out of my mouth softly. The sound lasted until my breath ran out. I repeated it again. Then again until after the eighth time of saying it, my wife and my son stirred awake.
They rose to their feet — not quite with it, but getting there.
Mee-hawl smiled when I asked him, “Who are you? Where are you from?”
“I think you know the answer to both those questions. Why not ask me a question to which you don’t already know the answer.”
I thought for a moment then asked, “Who are those veiled creatures? What are they?”
“Listeners,” he said smiling a broad smile.
“Listeners? What does that mean?”
“They were sent to listen to your words in the hope that you would say the Name.” He shrugged his shoulders as he walked toward the end of the altar and into the waiting shadows.
I hugged my wife and son as I drew them both close.
It was then that the music of Glory filled the church, and my life.
THE END
(OF THE BEGINNING)
Watch for
In Search of the Sacred Music
Book 2 The Sacred Search Series
Coming
August 2013
AFTERWORD
The Search for the Sacred Word tells how one man could know the way to come face to face with the Lord God. Jeremy’s story is both powerful and challenging. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Are there other ways to connect
with God? The answer is YES. Watch for The Search for the Sacred Music Book 2 in The Sacred Search series.
Have you ever wondered why certain music has a deep effect on you? Why certain songs take you places you don’t ordinarily go? Why there is a connection? A memory?
Read In Search of the Sacred Music, and go places you have never been.
If you enjoyed In Search of the Sacred Word, do me a huge favor. Go back to www.amazon.com, and please leave an honest review. Authors live and die by their reviews. The few extra seconds it takes really helps us authors out. Thank you!
~~~
Other Works by Tom Morrissey
In Search of the Sacred Music
Book 2 in The Sacred Search
Coming
August 2013
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I have been blessed with a varied and exciting life, full of unusual and talented people. Some of those people are masters who have directed my travels down a pathway taking me places I could not have gone without their gentle but firm guidance. I now look forward to sharing my experiences with you, my readers in the hope that you too will enjoy that which is fascinating and mysterious. Those experiences in life can be our teacher. Who we meet in life often-times point us in the direction on the path we are meant to travel. I have been shown the way to what I have come to know as a mystic path by the masters I have known and studied under for many years. There are things we are not meant to know and other things we are meant to learn through the process known as searching. I enjoy sharing information…
“When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.” Lao Tzu
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