Chapter 3: Ironic Humor

I woke to the ringing of the church bells. It was eleven o’ clock, and I’d only had four hours of sleep, falling into dark as all else where rising from it, the blue of the night sky fading to pink. I looked down on the church goers, remembering once again. I was an alter boy, in a manner of speaking. My long red hair kept from my face in the same braid I’d put in it the night before. When I’d slept in the pews of the church. I remembered the first time I’d seen Her. She was in the foster system, Her foster parent a crotchety old lady who was a serious catholic. I had been cleaning up for the morning service when they came in. I recognized the old lady immediately, and just as quickly felt sorry for Her as she pushed Her into the pew and immediately bowed her head. I later learned that it was for Her “ever damned soul.” Almost at the same time He came in. After that I was busy with the preparations for the service. Putting the wafers and wine in the ark and helping the ever drunken Father into his robes. Thinking about this made me laugh. It was like old times, sleeping in a church and living among legends. I got up and went down the bell’s rope, getting to the bottom a lot faster than if I’d used the stairs and scaring the priest almost to death. “Goodness, girl, what were you doing up there?” I looked at him, as straight faced as I can get, and said, “I was just remembering.” *********************************************************************************************************************************************** I was on the Am-trak to Germany when another batch of memories hit me. I was in a car with Her, we were on our way to the city, He was in the back. We all wanted adventure, and we didn’t quite know where we were going, but we did know where we wanted to go later. On the way to where They wanted to be, we talked about where else we could go together. “Oh, I know! Let’s go to Jamaica! Sexy natives, dreadlocks, street music, man, that’s what I’m talking about.” She looked at Him. “Not to mention pretty secluded oasis’s.” She waggled Her eyebrows suggestively. He smiled. “I may yet take you up on that, but I’d rather go somewhere like…Oh, like Germany.” “Why’d you want to do that?” I looked into His red eyes, curious, “I mean, there’s nothing all that special about Germany. Unless you like cold and snow of course.” He frowned, “Well, I don’t much enjoy snow, the Mexican you know, but it’s the history of it. The past of a controlling psychopath.” She looked surprised. “I want to go there for that reason too. Did you know all of his wives were suicidal? Yeah, plus, he threw his dog over a cliff because it let some other person pet it! I mean come ON!...” The conversation had gone on in the same fashion for quite a while. The memory faded. ********************************************************************************************************************************************** As the doors to the train opened I noticed that it was my stop. I ran out and climbed up the station walls to the roof. The view from there was beautiful, but was marred by the remnants of the gas chambers in the distance. I headed for those same gas chambers, now a tourist trap, but a place where I might find some trace of where he went. Maybe even something sure. All the sudden I felt like I was on another quest. One that I probably should have been on for years. One to find Her. She may have her reasons, but this was ridiculous. So what if she was mentally unraveling because of Ebba? If it was a mental thing, than we could fix it with will power. I mean, if four people can’t fix it…well, you know what I’m saying. But I wasn’t. I was on a quest for a legend. A myth. Or so to speak. An only slightly trackable myth with huge, sharp a*s fangs.

Reviews

[Hot-N-Cold_17]

this is getting better and better but the only thing is that at the beginning I feel like it is a little cloudy but that is about it.