Visiting Others 3

As soon as I stepped to the right, I felt the shifting. Any other paths were closed. Only the path ahead remained. I curved to the left.

Just ahead, there appeared a large house on a hill. Yellow lights festooned the windows and reflected the path which led to a causeway that curved to what appeared to be the housefront.

As I reached the causeway, there appeared a visage quite clearly dressed in white and red robes.

He held up a gloved hand. His other was resting on the pommel of a singlehanded broadsword, with a red stone in the hilt.

'Why have you come this way?' His tone and expression were not cold, nor were they impassioned.

'I am on my Path seeking Light.'

'You must see to your own destiny. No one can choose for you. Be ready.'

A warning from a guard? No, not a guard, a reminder of free will.

He gestured for me to pass.

Worthiness on this journey was up to me.

As has become the standard in this place, I looked back to note he was gone, as was the path behind me. Onward.

The house ahead was sizable. Many mansions came to mind. It was stone, several stories and spread over a small plateau and was surrounded by a tall forest. The lights were not just at the windows, but at doors and a goodly large courtyard. It was smooth and it did not tax my feet as I strode across it. The smell of pine and, was that patchouli?, filled the air.

All I sensed was potential. Neither good nor evil. For all I knew this place was full of both.

I reached the large wooden door. It was deep, dark wood. the knocker was a plain brass bulb.

When I knocked, a middle aged man in a dark suit answered.

'Who are you?', he asked as if to question my soul. His gaze was even and not unpleasant from dark eyes glistening with light.

I gave him my name and my purpose.

'Please come in and follow me.'

The door opened to a foyer that expanded laterally and the forward view showed a stairwell of polished stone. We walked across a parqueted, black and white floor.

Up the stairs and to the right there were seemingly endless doors to what I presumed to be bedrooms.

The 'butler' showed me to one a ways down and opened the door.

'Please come in and refresh yourself. I will be back presently to take you to your Host.' He smiled and swept his outstreched arm, indicating a well lit room in muted colors and dark wood, not unlike my own bedroom.

As he left, I noticed fresh casual clothes laid out on a large bed and a bright bathroom nearby.

I showered and a great amount of dust and sweat cascaded with soft water in a stepin shower again similar to my own. I felt the dirt of strife and trial leave me, and I was cleansed, ready to face whatever came.

I dressed and meditated, waiting to be taken to my Host.

The Twilight Zone episode where the gangster died and was taken to a great hotel and given whatever he wanted came to mind. He was smothered in material things and complained til it was made clear he was not in Heaven as he thought originally, but in 'the other place'. I bided my time and chatted with Great Spirit.

I was taken to a desert plain. Hordes were swarming and my comrade and I fought back to back. He was blonde with short hair and piercing blue eyes. Through the din, he said to me,'You are never alone.', smiling in the face of overwhelming odds.

Shortly, there was a discreet tapping and a 'sir'.

I jumped up immediately, as is my custom (I don't like surprises.) and opened the door.

The 'butler' had a cordial smile.

'I trust you are sufficiently refreshed and ready to meet the Host?'

I simply nodded and he silently led the way back down the stairs and into a small room off the main dining hall.

It was a cheerful wood and brass setting with a fireplace and a table for four set for just two, with silverware and china quite like the kind from holidays in my childhood.

I was seated silently and funnily, as the 'butler' moved away, I thought of 'Clove' the servant of Dracula who watched over the castle til there were suitable victims to use in bringing back the Count from 'death'.

What a cheat that would be, avoiding judgment by killing humans for sustenance (Even if some of them deserved it.). Would that not be its own punishment, cursed to an undead existence? Supposed 'immortality' with a price of blood. Quite the opposite of the Christian blood sacrifice of Jesus. Quite the opposite of facing reality by replacing it with a 'delusional reality'. Dracula, the disfunctional vampire lol.

My musings were interrupted by the opening of the door.

The light of the dining hall seemed to form a halo, an aura of gold around an unmistakably feminine form. She closed the door and came right to the table, no fanfare.

She seemed to be a woman in her thirties, well kept and quite beautiful, like the Woman who visited me. And not like her as well.

Her hair was blonde, gold rather and moderately short. She wore casual clothes quite like a well off professional might wear on the weekend. Tan shirt with a yellow t-shirt under, tan slacks and desert boots.

The difference was not just the clothes. Her beauty was undeniable. Yet she kept something hidden, whereas the Woman always had something in reserve. A matter of semantics perhaps, but not here.

I rose as she came to the table and took her hand.

'Hello, Michael', she said and effortlessly gripped my hand. It was strong sure and I think if she had been pressed, viselike. 'I'm Lucia di la Rosa d'il Cielo.'

Not surprised she knew my name, remembering where I was. 'Between the Worlds' the woman in black had said. Yet, all seem so real. At this point, in so deep, I had no choice but to play along.

'I'm glad to meet you. And may I say, you have a charming home.'

'One of many', she smiled. It serves the purpose. Please sit. I've taken the liberty to order something I thought you'd like.'

'I'd like some answers', I thought. I simply smiled and sat back down.

'An aperitif, perhaps?'

The 'butler' brought the drink tray.

Remembering the fate of Renfield in the old Dracula movie, I took the chance and asked for a bourbon on the rocks.

I had my Sword right with me. It never left my side nor my sight the whole time here.

As that thought passed through my mind, she was gazing curiously at it.

'I see you are a collector of blades.', nodding toward it.

'I have a modest collection at home. This was a gift.' I patted the hilt.

'How fortunate to have friends so thoughtful. I am an afficionado of sport involving the blade. Perhaps we might have a match later.'

She smiled and I noticed her teeth were like sparkling pearls. Wonder how long her canines are, I mused.

The whole time, I puzzled that this could well be a trap, rather like one of those confrontations between James Bond and an arch villian.

The test was to come.