Blessings Home

Blessings Home Ch. 3

Enoch smiled as he walked through the morning sun's rays. The air was crisp and cool as summer was soon to leave them. The troubles of yesterday had been banished by his two dominants. They'd washed away the despair that had clung to Enoch. Chandir and Wryn had used their bodies to build him up. He had felt brittle, like the leaves that crunched beneath his feet, but they'd filled him with sustenance and strength.

Looking down at the path as he walked, he marveled at the colors of the fallen leaves. Seasons had died before the Earth had; he'd only heard tales of colorful leaves. The sun shining down through the trees, created mesmerizing patterns on the trail. Enoch didn't notice the red mist slip around him as the patterns became stars and words. Yellow stars and words of hate blazed in front of him. Falling to his knees, Enoch saw people everywhere. Men, women, and children with triangles on their sleeves. The triangles were put together to make a star. The fear was so strong, Enoch could feel his heart race.

Enoch could hear the slurs shouted at the frightened people. Those that shouted were so full of hate. Enoch was suffocating between the fear and anger. The stars sewn on the clothing wavered as tears filled his eyes. Through his tears, the stars shimmered and then suddenly they floated up to the sky.

The red mist slipped away as Enoch lay gasping. The hate-filled words that had overwhelmed him softened into the lyrics of the birds flying over head. He wiped the tears from his cheek with shaking hands. Laying on the ground, he let the peace of Gliese flow into him. He knew that he'd never rid himself of the anger and fear of the vision, but he was desperate to hide the emotions from Misham. Enoch didn't want his friend to suffer like he had the day before.

Slowly he stood up and looked around. Seeing no sign of the other sub, Enoch walked the few yards to the library. He'd prepare for the morning's scribing, the physical act of doing would hopefully chase away the remnants of emotions from the vision.

Entering the library, he noticed a couple Historians gathering their own supplies. The two men were older than anyone Enoch had seen on Earth. Giving them a small smile, he didn't think he'd ever get use to seeing people so healthy and having lived so many years.

"Talk to your dominant, Pais. Confide in him your worries."

Enoch's mouth dropped at the unexpected words. The advanced age and stooped shoulders of the Historian, didn't diminish his dominance. Nor the mischievousness of his sub, as the other Historian gave him a wink as they walked by.

Ducking his head, he hurried to the cabinet that held the supplies. He didn't want to think of what the older dominant knew. Was it a vision the dom had? Or could he just see Enoch's unease? Giving himself a mental shake, he wanted to brush away all the negative energy. He wanted to spare Misham any unwanted emotions. He gathered up the paper, ink, and quill.

Once in the room they'd used the day before, Enoch set everything down. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. He tried to clear his mind. He tried to think of nothing, only darkness. When that failed, he tried to visualize a white light. Pure. Refreshing. Clean. Suddenly, he remembered he'd forgotten the Xmene crystals. Opening his eyes, he turned to see Misham standing in the doorway.

"Do you want to stop?"

Enoch's heart ached at the dark eyes so full of pain. He didn't need a vision to see that Misham had been isolated and friendless for much of his life. Enoch knew the pain of being so alone.

"No. Please. I very much want to continue." Enoch poured his whole being into the words. He wanted his friend to understand that he wanted to continue not just the scribing, but the budding friendship as well.

Misham nodded and gave a tentative smile. Then he held out the clay covered crystals. "You didn't have enough hands for these."

Enoch chuckled as he took the crystals. Sitting down at the small table, he pulled the clay away from the light source. Like the day before, he kept the clay in his hands. The kneading of the soft substance gave him peace as he talked of his visions.