Friday, September 15, 2017

Light of the Overmark, Chap. 1 & 2

A Sample Reading from the First Book of The Star Tenders  



The first chapter of 
Light of the Overmark
copyright 2016, David Benning





Llant-thallia paused in her rushing to look around. The rich, deep colors of the star fields lay in front of her. Each color vibrated and shimmered in the ethereal glow of the Overmark. It was such a lovely season. New stars would be birthed and new worlds ushered into their dizzying orbits. The joy of such expectations caused her to spin around in three complete circles again.
You are so full of life today.”
Llant-thallia didn't have to turn to hear the voice. She heard it with her mind and immediately recognized who was speaking to her.
Of course, I am, Dyadya,” she replied. “Everything here is so wonderful and beauteous and joyful and hasn't HE done all things well?”
Indeed, my dear Little One, HE has.”
Llant-thallia reflected for a few moments. It was true that she was among the youngest of their clan, but she had already watched the galaxy turn more than once in its graceful pirouette across the great dance floor of space and time.
Tyetya be back soon?”
She will arrive in due season. What have you to do at this time?”
I have been asked to check on the stellar nurseries and watch for the little planets.”
Do exercise great caution, Little One. Grave things have happened on little planets before.”
I shall, Dyadya.”
He gently slipped up to her and placed his love and seal of affection in her mind. She smiled and watched as he left. Her Dyadya was a great counselor and was often called upon by the Chron to provide understanding and direction. She smiled. It was a very carefully ordered life—a life filled with purpose and clarity and peace.
That thought again filled her with joy and she had to run. Run! So away she raced to the far star fields where little proto-stars lay tucked in their nebulae awaiting the birth pains that would strip the overlying fog away.
So close,” she thought.
Then in exultation of delight, she bounded across to another nearby nursery.
She didn't feel a presence come close but she was suddenly aware of an emptiness around her. Joy was sucked from her mind and fear flooded into her heart. The darkness deepened quickly around her and she could no longer see her footing. She tripped on Something that should not have been there. At the same time, Something shoved her hard away from the galactic center. She was now spinning and falling, careening wildly out of control. She felt a pain where that Something had touched her.
Help!” she screamed with her mind again and again, but she felt the Darkness reflect her thoughts away from where her clan was.
Just then a blinding flash struck at the Darkness and light poured in around her. She was still tumbling out of control, but joy sprung anew as colors bathed her mind with refreshment. She was trying to right herself and stop the gyring and turning. She reached out to find something to stabilize herself upon.
Watch out, Llant-thalia!”
The voice seemed further away, but she recognized Trey-thaltos. She would have recognized his voice anywhere. He was always so kind and alert—it was small wonder that he had seen her plight. 
“But what am I to watch out for?” she asked herself as she looked around.
At that moment something struck her hard and dimensions crashed in around her. She had experienced dimensions once before when their Preceptor had taken them on an excursion to the surface of a young planet under a newly born star. Dimensions were so limiting, so oppressive. She much rather run free among the star fields.
She opened her eyes but found she could see little. All around her she sensed the clamoring and intrusive thoughts of a hundred miserable beings. She moved and realized that she could transport herself with some difficulty. The Preceptor had shown them how to traverse the dimensions. She chafed at that time when she was limited to only three directions of motion. And now, not even knowing where she was, the limitations proved positively debilitating and horrifying. The pain in her side added a throbbing to the dull ache of the crash. Darkness had suck vitality from her.
But more importantly, she had to collect herself and arrange her parts within the dimensions, limiting as they were. “What form? What form?” she asked herself then gingerly reached out amongst the baffling array of thoughts that shouted at her from every direction.
She was greatly distressed by all that she overheard from their thoughts: angry commotions and nearly unbridled revenge; awkward longings and unrequited love. But the thing that disturbed her the greatest was the emptiness and the great loneliness that she felt in all those thoughts. Not one in a hundred had any tenderness pushing forward that she could sense.
She refocused her mind to find out what these Dimension Dwellers were like and what planet she has crashed into. She was growing tired and faint. The attack and the crash had taken a lot out of her. If she were still out among the star fields she could have gathered the light and been replenished; but here, here in the darkness of this forgotten world—“No!” The new thought imposed itself on her like the weight of a thousand suns. “Is this Thanadora?” Thanadora was a small planet in a small system in a forgotten and neglected corner of the galaxy. She had been out racing in the vicinity but still many parsecs away, yet the attack had sent her spinning and tumbling who knows where. No wonder Trey-thaltos had tried to warn her.
Oh, what am I to do?” The realization pressed down on her with grave concern and added worry to her throbbing pain. Of course, Trey-thaltos would have seen where she went and he would be organizing help right now. But the important thing now was to stay out of sight and undetected by the Krahlthaus and the evil Overlord. She shuddered at remembrance of stories she had learned from her Preceptor, stories of unthinkable evil and malice.
I must find a form and blend in,” she resolved. “Then find replenishment.”
The Preceptor had shown them on their visit to the new planet how to take replenishment from the Dimensions. It was adequate but hardly enjoyable—“It will have to do, though.”
A new presence approached where she lay sprawled on the cold, wet ground. Slowly she reached out to explore the new mind gently and take in what images it had seen. She encountered sadness and regret, but she also found sweet tenderness.
Yes, that's what I can be,” she decided and focused her remaining energies on collecting herself into three dimensions.



----------------------------

The second chapter of 
Light of the Overmark
copyright 2016, David Benning




It was a typical fall day and I was typically stoic and boarder-line complaining as I finished my shift. The evening was partly clear with the hint of a cool snap ready to descend as night deepened. Leaves had already been showing hints of turning in the wondrous display of autumnal colors and the ground was still damp from an earlier rain shower. The clearing of the sky would definitely help the temperatures drop quickly.

I pulled my jacket tighter around and zipped it up a little tighter. Being all day in a climate controlled workplace made the transition to fall and winter temperatures that much harder. I didn't have too much further to go. The bus dropped me off five blocks from my house. It provided me a chance to have a little exercise and the cool air always helped clear my mind from work. Now for preparing some dinner and the quiet of my home.

Work was a noisy place. There were instruments and motors and fans and people talking and against it all was the insipid radio playing whatever station was least offensive. And that meant that it played drivel. Musical drivel that was written to control the masses and keep them from thinking by merely giving them replacement emotions and memories for all those that they didn't have.

Yeah, I was in my early sixties, but was as big of a curmudgeon as someone in their eighties. “Eh? Kids, get off my grass!”

That's why I was looking forward to being in my home where I played my music if I wanted to play any at all. I talked to co-workers occasionally and I saw their eyes glaze over as I explained how classical music was infinitely better and more complex than anything that pop music offered—especially the stuff that was played on the top-ten commercial stations.

But as I walked from work a certain melancholy reverie washed over me. I was not one usually given to reflecting on the past. No, for me, the past was a toxic mix of pleasantness and painful memories; thus I lived in the present and stayed day-to-day.

But the memories pushed at my mind and triggered long-repressed thoughts. Memories that recalled back to my teenaged years. I recalled walking this very same street as a sophomore coming home from high school.

High school! Oh, now there was a memory that I hadn't actively thought of in years. I had even purposely avoided going to my fortieth year reunion to skirt around the bad memories associated with that time in my life. I couldn't believe that I was recalling the memories of Kelly and James and Joey! What was this!?

I suddenly thought of my wife. My eyes misted up. I felt her hand squeeze mine. And I heard her voice whisper in my ear, “My love, I pray you will find peace in God.”

I stopped walking—the memory was so overpowering. My wife had passed away not even eight years before. After her death I became a recluse of sorts. My two grown children didn't know what to do with me and as I became increasingly unresponsive, they slowly communicated less and less. Oh, they sent greetings at Christmas and on my birthday, but it had been years since I had heard their voices. And even longer since I interacted with my grandchildren.

At that point I saw Clarissa, my oldest grandchild. There she was at age nine or ten. Sweet and trusting with long brown hair cascading down over her shoulders in a tumble of curls and motion. Her face was upturned toward mine and she said, “Please? Please, Grandpa?”

Of course, I would. I loved my family so much. My grandchildren were so adorable and precious. My heart actually ached at that point. What was I thinking? What was happening to me?

This was so out of character. I shook my head and reset my thoughts.

“No, I have to get dinner ready,” I spoke resolutely to myself.

That's when I heard a noise, a rustling in the nearby bushes that sounded like a small animal but with a moan that was almost human.

I stepped close to the bush and tried to peer under it in the gathered darkening of twilight and a street lamp a half block away. I saw little.

“Anyone there?” I asked tenuously.

There was no response so I slowly unbent.

“Please, mister?”

The voice was plaintive, weak and small. I was so surprised that I said nothing.

“Please? So cold!”

“I can't see you,” I finally answered. “Where are you?”

The young voice didn't answer, but my eyes adjusted to the gloom under the bushes. There was a form under there—a young child!

“Oh, my gracious!” I suddenly exclaimed. “Are you okay, child?”

“So cold.”

I noticed that the voice seemed girl-like and very young. Perhaps it was because I was just remembering Clarissa when she was about that age, but a paternal instinct took over. “I'll help you. Let me lift you up out of here.”

The sudden memories of picking up Clarissa washed over my mind as I drew the young child toward me then cradled her in my arms. “What happened?” I whispered.

“Umm. Don't know.”

“Let's get you home. Okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

I picked this child up and carried her the remaining three blocks to my home. She was so light and waft-like. I was worried about malnutrition and abuse. Images of deformed children flashed through my mind before a profound sense of “stop” entered. After that I was able to function. I held this child in my left hand while I fished in my pocket for my house key.

“You okay?” her voice whispered. Her head rested on my shoulder.

“Yes. I have my keys now.”

Suddenly I thought of all the places that I used keys. Keys for home, for my car and for work. Keys for passwords to access secure places within work or the computer. Keys to tests that I graded when I was a student assistant in college some forty years before.

Inside my home, I clicked the light on, closed the door and locked it, then walked up the half flight of steps to the living room and gently placed this young girl on the couch.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

I reached for the blanket that rested next to the couch—the blanket that I hadn't used since my wife had passed away—the blanket that probably had years of dust hanging on it, and spread it out over this child. At that point, in the light of the entryway, I examined her face. She looked like a ten year old. Long, dark brown hair and fair features with a summery dress. “Oh, my Lord, she looks just like Clarissa!”

I stepped back in shock of memories that flooded my mind.

“You okay?” the girl asked.

“Um, yeah, maybe,” I finally answered. “How 'bout you?”

She shook her head and shivered. I could tell that she was nearly suffering hypothermia or shock or some such medical condition as that.

“Very cold,” she whispered. “Need replen...um, food.”

“I was going to make dinner. You'd like some?”

“Um, yes?”

“Okay, you wait here and I'll start fixing it.” I tucked the blanket in around her and added, “Go ahead and sleep if you'd like.”

Now, perhaps that was the thing about my generation. If someone needed help, you just helped them the best you could. You didn't go involving the government unless it was something huge like a land invasion from another continent or something. It never crossed my mind that I would need to call the police or protective services because there was a child who was lost. The child needed food and shelter—that was something I could provide, so there was no question that I would help. That's just the way I was raised. Of course, I knew that I would eventually have to contact the police, but lands sakes, the child needed to warm up and have a good hot meal first.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Sure thing. By the way, I'm Seth. Seth McClure.”

“Seth.” She nodded and closed her eyes.

“And what's your name?”

She opened her eyes again and said, “Too long to tell you the whole thing.”

“So how 'bout a nickname or something.”

“Lannie. Call me Lannie.”

“Okay, Lannie. I'm gonna get you some hot soup and a nice toasted cheese sandwich.”

I left her on the couch then went and opened up a couple of cans of chicken noodle soup. As I smelled the soup, wave after wave of memories washed over me. I sat down at the kitchen table and remembered warming up a couple of cans right after we had first been married—my wife had taken ill and was just feeling better so I did the best I could to make her feel right. Her smile as I handed her the warm cup still warmed my heart forty-two years later. But the soup smell brought back images of feeding our two children around the very same table. And then, some years later, watching as my granddaughter, Clarissa, ate crackers and soup.

“What is wrong with me tonight?” I whispered. “Get a grip!”

A few minutes later, the soup was in two separate mugs and a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches were cooking on the range.

“It smells nice.”

I jumped at the sound of her soft voice. I thought she would have gone to sleep.

“I did not mean to scare you,” she added and she sat down on the chair I had just occupied and drew the blanket around her shoulders.

“I thought you'd be asleep.”

“I'm getting warmer. Thank you.”

I flipped the sandwiches over. “So where are ya' from and what're ya' doing out tonight?”

She sighed and looked off into the distance. “Elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” I almost laughed. That reply was totally unexpected. “What sort of answer is that? Aren't your parents worried 'bout where you are now?”

“They're looking.”

“So what happened?”

“I tripped and fell.”

“So should I drive you back to your folks place?”

“Can't. Too far.”

This conversation was going much differently than I had imaged. “So, I should call the police and let them help you.”

She stood up suddenly with fear in her eyes and said, “No. Please, don't, Mr. Seth.”

That response surprised me very much. “Okay, I won't call right now. Here's a sandwich and I'll just get our mugs of soup.”

She sat back down and looked at the plate with the sandwich on it. She waited till I placed the soup mugs on the table and sat down.

“Aren't ya' hungry?” I asked taking a bite.

She nodded and picked hers up and started eating.

“Do you miss her?” she suddenly asked.

I snapped out of my reverie. “Who?”

Lannie pointed at the refrigerator where I had an old picture of my wife holding Clarissa. I had grown so accustomed to it being there on the side near the flour canister that I had basically forgotten that it was there at all.

“Yes,” I finally answered and slurped another spoonful of soup.

“Both?”

I looked intently at this child. She looked ten, but she was now acting much older with far more experience.

“Yes. But that was a long time ago.”

She nodded and ate more of her food. “Thank you. I should sleep now.”

“What are we going to do about your parents?”

“They will come for me.” She picked up the blanket and walked back to the living room, leaving me alone in the kitchen with a world of thoughts swirling around my head.


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