Chapter Six-Close But Out Of Reach

Chapter Six-Close But Out Of Reach

 I looked down at the little slip of paper in my hand, pulling Zippo to a halt.  Saft had scribbled down instructions on how to reach the church-where I could speak to the angels about my past-and then sent me off with Zippo.  The bay horse pawed the snow covered cobblestone impanciantly.  “I’m trying boy, I promise,” I whispered, leaning forward and rubbing his neck without taking my eyes of the paper.  In Saft’s messy handwriting was sprawled:

“Go to the main road.  Once you get there go up the street until you reach the sign for the bakery.  Go off the side street that’s just past there.  this is a shortcut.  Take your first left.  Then keep going straight until you reach the tall oak tree on the corner.  Take another left.  Keep going until you get to the church.  It should be at the end of that road.”

I made a mental note to have him draw me a map next time I needed to go someplace.  Writing understandable directions obviously wasn’t one of his strong points.  I was currently back on the main road for the fourth time.  I had taken multiple different side streets, but none of them worked.  The main road alone had three different shops that looked like they could resemble a bakery.  I spun Zippo in a circle, shoving the slip of paper back into the saddlebag as I did, and cantered him back up the main road.  I passed a sign that said ‘Toma’s Bakery’, and pulled Zippo off down that road.  Next, I was supposed to take my first left.  I only got a few more strides before I was forced to come to a stop.  The road was a dead end, the only turn off being right.  “I don’t recall Saft mentioning that…,” I muttered, but then shrugged and continued right anyway.  The turn off should be soon.

Eventually, I found the turn off and made it to the church.  It was small, but no less beautiful.  It was painted white, with cast iron gates, and bright, stained glass windows.  I slowly slid off Zippo and lead him up to the open gates.  Once through, I tethered him to a post and made my way to the front doors.  I hesitantly went to knock, and as I did the door swung open from my touch.  

The room before me was grand and beautiful.  Dark wooden benches stretched in aisleways facing a raised platform at the front of the room.  Murals lined the walls.  A grand piano was set up in the right hand corner.  I slowly made my way over to it, footsteps echoing off the walls of the empty room as I took everything in.  I sat down on the bench and played a random key, seeing if the noise would get the attention of anyone; if anyone was even here, that is.  Nothing came from the vacant space.  “Hello?” I called.  Still nothing.  

I looked across the crisp keys of the piano.  My fingers tingled at just the thought of playing it.  Before the illness-before I met Death-my mother had taught me to play.  I would do it anytime I had the chance.  But when the illness left me bed-ridden, I had never gotten back to it.  I hadn’t even seen a piano in years.  I looked around the room once more before quietly playing out a soft melody.  A simple song in which I used to play often.  It was my favorite one that my mother had taught to me.  I felt tears prick at my eyes as I choked back a sob.  It had been forever since I had thought of her; of how things used to be.  “The words…,” I whispered.  What had been the words…?  I sighed in relief as the chorus filled my mind.  I remembered them neatly printed beneath the bars on the sheet music in my mother’s handwriting.  

I looked around the room again.  Still, I saw no one.  Then, hesitantly, I turned back to the piano.  “Waking up I see that everything is okay, The first time in my life and now it’s so great, Slowing down I look around and I am so amazed, I think about...the little things that make life great,”  With every word a new wave of emotion crashed down on me.  I didn’t understand the feelings.  They were so strong.  Had I really been this empty before?  Or had they always been there?  

Finally, I couldn’t take it.  I let out the sob I had been forcing back, collapsing onto the piano with my head in my arms.  I began to cry for the first time since Death had walked into my life.  “Why?!” I shouted angrily to the empty room.  “How am I supposed to find what I’m looking for?!  Where is it?!  Death, please!!”  I cried, looking up to the ceiling.  The room was painfully quiet.  It felt like a thousand knives to the chest.  My throat closed up.  I was so hurt and angry, and it made me even more so knowing that I had no right to be.  I was here-sitting here-on earth.  I was not dead.  My soul had been spared.  But deep down, was I alive or just breathing?