The Preservation Of The Neph
Goreme Caverns, Cappadocia, Central Turkey
“I can’t believe the years have passed.” He thought. Another voice filled his mind, as Walter Morgan took a large pick and swung it hard against the cavern wall. The loud thud was the result of thirty-five years of falling rock and debris that made it so hard to get to it.
“I know it’s here. I put it here myself.” he thought out loud as he swung the heavy pick-ax again, and it collided with the stone that separated Walter Morgan from retrieving what he had come there to get. Then another voice filled his mind and the sound of it made him lower the pick and listen intently.“Wally? Where’d he get off to? Walter Aaron Morgan you will get to this house this instant!” He smiled at the sound of his mother’s voice. “I loved buying those bugs.” He laughed and heard his mother’s screams. “Walter Aaron Morgan, I am going to kill you! I hate those things!”
“They looked so real.” Walter told himself. He pulled the pick into the air and swung it hard against the stone wall. “They looked so real, those bugs.” He heard a definite crack this time and reared the pick back behind him again.
He yanked the heavy pick forward and crushed the remaining wall and a pitch black hole was suddenly flooded with light, and Walter Morgan’s mind was flooded with his father’s voice. They were the same words that had often made him stronger and afraid to ever give up.
“Walter, you get in and get back out fast! It doesn’t take power to do what you must. It takes speed, accuracy and a determination to survive. It is our heritage, rarer than gold and of inestimable value.” Walter’s mind saw his father wrap an arm around his son’s shoulder. “My boy, it will all be clear. It is here that you will understand your significance and how to possess it and hold it with humility and to consecrate yourself to helping all men and women without respect of person. It is the way of the Neph.”
Since then, it was what drove him, just as his father had said it would be. It was Walter Morgan’s duty to pass his birthright on to Willow, just as his father had delivered it to him. It was that drive to preserve their unique and hidden difference of his line that had shed its insatiable appetite for evil and instead had yielded their kind to God.Walter swung the tool around one last time and the opening grew large enough to reach in and take back what he had placed there thirty-five years earlier. He reached in and felt a large box on the tips of his fingers. He pushed in further and dug his fingernails into the wood and pulled hard. He pulled it out quite easily.
She saw the rock spires of Goreme just out ahead. Willow spotted places where there was light and then darkness until another little patch of light appeared, with pitch blackness overtaking the land of Cappadocia. She kicked her legs with excitement as they soared above it all and screamed out in pure enjoyment mixed with fear.
“This is what I was born for, isn’t it?”
“Not in so many words.”
“What? You used twice as many words as I did.” Willow wrinkled her brow and took on a half-perturbed, half-inquisitive look across her face. She looked at the great beast and was sure she had seen a great smirk or smile or something that told her he was messing with her.
“You are, aren’t you?”
“And what would that be, Miss Willow Daisy … um Willow?” as the Watcher descended and landed on a ledge carved into one of the spires that had clearly been someone’s home a couple thousand years ago. The Watcher got down on one knee and placed Willow on her feet.
“You’re pretty smart, you know that?” Willow told the Watcher. “But you are hiding something from me, I know.”
“Smart of you to say, Willow. You Nephs are all different. Seems that …”
“What did you say, and no angelic hocus-pocus, OK? What’s a Neph?”
Walter Morgan looked down at his own hands that were tugging on the box that should have been almost fossilized by the weight over it and the thirty years that had past. “It’s too light.” He said loudly with a strong hint of real fear. “We will not survive without the scepter of truth. It cannot be done.”Walter looked down at his trembling hands that held a urn that was far too light to contain the scepter. He unhooked the latch and opened the lid. “Gone? Perhaps stolen; either way, it’s just as gone. Walter reached into the urn and pulled out a letter. He held it up and tried to open it but his hand shook, trembled so badly until it seemed to dry out and then his whole arm crumbled into dust.
“Now, now, you needn’t be so frightened. You’ve had a good run, but nothing lasts forever. Walter, you know the rules of the challenge. The house cannot refuse, and I think that just might be you. I admit to you though, it’s hardly a challenge, since you know longer have what I’ve just taken from you. “Whoever own the…”
“Yes Kassadia … whoever owns the Scepter rules the Neph … yea, I know! And, I know there is nothing resembling a Neph in you!” Walter screamed while crumbling and crushing the letter in his only hand and looking at his right arm that was no longer there. “When I put my hand to possess the scepter, it took possession of my arm. I have to get it back.” he shouted. “Willow!”
“Lord Kassadia, they’ve been spotted just over to your right, there on that ledge.”
“Where do you mean? I can’t even make them out with these binoculars.”
“I am not a Neph nor a Dark Heart, oh fallen one.” Kassadia told the dark Watcher. “You do know how to get on my nerves.”
The fallen Watcher sneered at Kassadia. “I am an original. I have not given my will to the maker, like the Neph. We are of a more pure race. We didn’t take the name. It was given to us, but Dark-Hearts just stuck.” Kassadia reflected. “I guess it’s true, but I like me that way. Take a message from me.”
“Miss Willow, you make my lights sputter and my wings quiver nervously with your persistence.” Willow giggled that she was able to drive an Angel so crazy. “Though, Miss Willow, I can surmise that by human logic, you think you have a right to know.”
“See, I told you that you were smart. So, tell me, what is a Neph?”
“For this purpose we are going to such lengths. But we can talk about it as we continue. Your family is special in the ...”
“Wait! Did you hear that?” Willow stood silently frozen and listened for the sound again. She heard nothing then saw something there, but transparent and swirling over her and the Watcher.
“Willow!” She turned her head at sound of her father’s voice.
“You heard that, right? You had to have heard someone calling my name!”
The watcher didn’t respond to Willow this time. He sensed the presence, one of his own, gone bad and no time to tell her even to get down. He reached down and took Willow by the hood of her coat and left her dangling in the air while he scanned all around.
“Willow Daisy Morgan, unchanged and alive.” The words did not give her the feeling of safety that they once did. This was all too real to let mere words give her hope. There was an adversary there that got the Watcher’s attention. “Put me down! I insist.”
The watcher did even glance her way but squatted down and placed her carefully and firmly on the ledge. Willow ran to the side of the stone dwelling and hid in the dark.
A black thick shadow seemed to hover and swirl in the air. The Watcher saw it coming at him and drew his great sword and swung it at the black leathery Watcher. It suddenly appeared and the sound of their swords colliding was deafening for Willow, but she knew that victory was not certain.
A sharp pain shot through her sides and she fell to the floor and screamed and then the pain was gone. Willow rose to her feet and felt behind her back. “Willow Daisy Morgan, unchanged and alive.” Then she smiled broadly. “Are they real?” Willow felt them. “Oh my goodness, I’ve got wings!” She decided to use them when she saw the black shadow thing coming at her.
Willow leapt into the air and just knew how to do it. Her wings responded instinctively and she moved perfectly. The watcher saw Willow leap into the air and yelled out to her. “Get down!” But, as soon as he did, the dark leathery Watcher swung his sword and struck Willow’s Watcher in his armor sending him crashing to the floor. He landed with great force. The dark Watcher heard him hit bottom and dived toward the Willow’s protector. She took a large rock in her hand and dove toward the dark Watcher.
The dark Watcher smiled to think of what his master would think of him if he killed a King’s Watcher. His face turned grave and serious. The King’s Watcher lay on the floor waiting to recuperate. He saw the dark Watcher drawing near, but he could not yet move. The Dark Watcher pulled his sword back and readied for the kill. As the dark Watcher got in striking distance, Willow threw the large rock and hit the dark Watcher in the chest sending him crashing to the ground as well.
“HaHaHa! Loser!” She screamed. The King’s Watcher had now fully recovered and had to subdue his dark brother before his regenerative powers kicked in as well. Willow’s protector had needed some protecting from her. The Watcher was grateful for his life, and Willow was happy to have lived the moment. She felt so much older now.
Walter Morgan knew that he had pass on the Scepter to Willow before the end of the night. If Kassadia could keep the Scepter till midnight, his line would then rule, and the covenant between the Neph and the King would be broken, and it was 6:23 p.m. now. The shadow of the dark hearts would then again dominate the minds and hearts of all men and women, and like a great Pandora’s box, every hidden evil thing that had been forbidden to grow and the dark tentacles would take root would infest the whole world of humans.
The King’s watcher grabbed the dark Watcher’s neck and squeezed strongly. “What are you talking about? She is here and ready to...”
“It belongs to another now.” The dark Watcher found the idea of Willow’s father lying in a cave in Goreme with his right arm turned to sand amusing. “It really was quite a chore to find where he had hidden it, but nothing is impossible if one’s life depends on it. Nothing personal, but they are half-breeds, and now, their lives depend on us.”
“Wait I heard it again. Did you?”
“It was your father, Willow. He is in great danger, and so are you.”
Kassadia placed the binoculars to his eyes and he saw Willow crying and the King's Watcher giving strong blows to the face of the dark Watcher. Kassadia found it all so entertaining and laughed every time a fist came in contact with the dark Watcher’s face.
“It’s going perfectly. There are myriads of others who will serve me, if this one dies.”
I am Willow Daisy Morgan, constantly changing and very much alive!”
by Steven Clark Bradley
& Selin Alicia Bradley
Patriot Acts by Steven Clark Bradley
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I hope everyone who reads this will not just think
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American. I am not afraid; I am convinced that no one
will secure our future except us.
That is why I declare the main theme of Patriot Acts
in one key phrase:
Just patriot Acts!
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