A Book Like No Other Volume 2

By Miles A Moody

Rachael and Karsten escape into the Bavarian countryside in a desperate quest for freedom in this second installment of A Book Like No Other. Nefarious and shadowy adversity closes in as unanticipated assistance arises to culminate in a showdown where the lines between friend and foe are dramatically obscured.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Miles A Moody
• Release date: Apr 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310839184

Miles A Moody

Miles lives with his lovely wife, Lynne along with two teenage children, Brennen and Anneliese and Purple, the cat. He currently works as a veterinarian living in the mountains of North Carolina. Miles is passionate about relationship – not just the interrelationships we share as human beings, and not only in regard to the ways in which we relate to our animal companions, but in reference as well to a subtlety of relationship that is as intangible as it is incredible.Miles shares this: “As a young man I had succeeded in most every way, and yet my life proved less fulfilling than anticipated. A key element was missing in how I related to everyone and everything in my life, a quality of living that I lost touch with as a child. I chose to make my life about learning how to best integrate this quality of unconditional love into my ordinary moments, and I find that even the mundane can be exciting and challenging as ‘the unseen’ and ‘the intangible’ move more to the forefront of my awareness in teaching me a better way. One of the ways that Love reached out to me was through writing. Life became a healing journey and I continue to write because there seems no end to the wonder I am being shown.”Miles enjoys spending time in the natural world – siting by a quiet steam, hiking, camping or taking pictures. It was during these times spent in nature that he first began to realize that he had lost something precious somewhere along the way in life. “I had acquired most everything a man could want in life,” Miles writes, “and yet, I felt unfulfilled inside. I realized that I was very uncomfortable inside me. I began to put aside, one by one, the behaviors that I had used to keep me busy in distraction so that I didn't have to admit how I felt. I came to know that this inner world of feeling was something I need not fear. I discovered that I could move past my insecurities into an inner state of self-acceptance and interconnection with the world around me. I wrote this book to share with others, through analogy and symbolism, something of my ongoing journey of transcendence of fear. It is my sincerest desire that others will find hope, adventure, and inspiration within the pages of ‘A Book Like No Other’.”

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A Book Like No Other

Volume 2

Copyright 2013 Miles A Moody

Published at Smashwords

TABLE OF CONTENTS

BOOK 1

CHAPTER 1 Daniel Chen

CHAPTER 2 Manu Bastidas

CHAPTER 3 Rachael Lien Sorensen

CHAPTER 4 Joshua Evington

CHAPTER 5 John Smith

CHAPTER 6 Rachael Kaia Sorensen

CHAPTER 7 György and Viollca Petulengro

CHAPTER 8 Karsten Adler

BOOK 2

CHAPTER 9 Mr. and Mrs. Adler

CHAPTER 10 Deter Ercanbald

CHAPTER 11 Little Edelweiss

CHAPTER 12 Fabian Jaeger

CHAPTER 13 Gaia

CHAPTER 14 Dragon Lines

CHAPTER 15 Emerich Vinzenz

CHAPTER 16 The Kings’ Sea

CHAPTER 17 Chayne of Toulouse, Count of Castelnaudary

BOOK 3

CHAPTER 18 Genevieve of Lyon

CHAPTER 19 Sister Margaret’s Brides of Christ

CHAPTER 20 Coyne and Ourson

CHAPTER 21 Mount Magnifique

CHAPTER 22 Bray

CHAPTER 23 Masselin

CHAPTER 24 Destin and Lien

BOOK 2

Dedicated to Debra Seaton

In appreciation for her boundless patience and compassion in helping me to see me in a different light.

CHAPTER 9 – Mr. and Mrs. Adler

They sped ahead for a couple of miles and rounded a bend along a section of road bounded by forest on both sides. A covered wagon ambled along in the road ahead taking up the entire road such that Karsten was unable to pass. He sounded the horn and the wagon came to a stop. He sounded the horn again and still no one appeared and the wagon failed to move. Karsten huffed angrily and threw open the door. Standing in the road he shouted, Please move your wagon! We must get by! He stood there waiting in the rain. There was no response.

Karsten. I do not like this. Can we not go back another way?

Karsten ignored her and walked over to the rear of the wagon. I said move your wagon so we can get by.....please!

A man in a flight uniform jumped from out of the back of the wagon; landing in a puddle, his boots cast up a splash of rainwater soaking Karsten’s pant legs. The man licked his lips as he leveled a pistol at Karsten’s head, his grasp on the pistol grip flexing and relaxing, his eyes blazing intently.

Stop right there, he shouted in English. Karsten threw up his hands. Do you speak English? The airman added this in German, flagrantly peppered in a South Chicago brogue."

Yes. Yes, very well.

Another airman jumped to the road from the driver’s seat of the wagon. He ran to the rear of the wagon pointing his pistol at Karsten. We need your car!

My car?! Yes, well, you cannot have it.

They advanced upon him staring down their pistols menacingly. South Chicago spat on the road and snarled, We aren’t giving you a choice, Fritz! He pointed through the windshield without taking his eyes off Karsten; the glass coursed in rain, the outline of a person vaguely discernible within. Now, tell me, Fritzie; who else you got in the car there with you?

Rachael opened her door, preparing to get out. Stay in the car, Rachael! Karsten shouted. She did so. Karsten stepped toward them. Listen fellows. I will help you willingly. I can get you across the border into Switzerland. Just don’t take our car. Please.

You’ll just up and take us to Switzerland; just like that? This came from the second airman. He glanced over at his comrade and shook his pistol for emphasis. Now, why would you want to help us, Fritz? We just bombed the hell out of Munich for you.

Karsten stood there momentarily, his mind grappling with the surrealistic sense of the situation, the sense of passing from heaven into hell within the space of a moment, and the nagging impression that this exact set of circumstances had happened to him before - déjà vu clung to the skin of his brain like wet clothing, soaking through and intoxicating his state of mind.

Look, Milt, the south Chicago airman taunted. The cat’s got Fritz’s tongue. I’ve stumped him! He don’t know what to say!

Karsten shook his head. Because, we are going to Switzerland ourselves; we are in some trouble and must get out of Germany. Please, if you take our vehicle, then we’re doomed! They’ll catch us and kill us. We are in the same boat with you. Please. Just listen to me for a moment.

Hey, Danny; get a load of this guy. Milt took his turn in poking fun. He’s missing an arm; I betcha my grandma’s grave plot against your pappy’s tin lizzie that it didn’t come from no paper cut pushing pencils in some office.

What’re you saying here, Milt? South Chicago Danny cocked his head to one side and stared down his upraised pistol barrel into Karsten’s scarred face. You telling me he didn’t poke an eye out by mistake with the pointy end of one of them pencils?

He’s a pretty big fellow, Danny; too big to sit all day behind a desk. I expect we got us a Jerry war hero here? Reckon he’s got him a glove box full of medals in there.

The sky opened up in a cloudburst. The airmen exchanged another look between them; Milton stepped toward Karsten as Danny started toward the passenger side of the car. I’m a simple sort of a guy who don’t take kindly to complications, Danny explained, his voice assuming an ominous tone. Besides, the fact that the rain’s made a mess of my hair.

Danny don’t get along so well when his hair’s in a muddle—puts him in a foul mood. Milton thumb-cocked the hammer of his forty-five caliber automatic and squinted down the barrel. I guess your bad luck just red-lined, Fritz; too damn bad for you.

Rachael threw open the car door shouting unintelligibly and firing a Walther P38, all in one fluid moment. The first two shots hit the closest airman in the chest dropping him to his knees. Bullets from the second airman whizzed past her head as she turned her pistol in Milton’s direction and fired. Her bullet hit him squarely in the forehead jacking his head spasmodically forward as he doubled over at the waist. Karsten had charged toward the airman to stop him firing, but his efforts proved unnecessary. The man’s arms went forward and out. Karsten ran into a dead man’s fitful embrace. Startled, he reflexively threw Milton’s body aside.

Karsten hurried around the front of the car and kicked Danny’s weapon out of reach. It clattered over the pavement, took a tumble and splashed out of sight into the rain pocked depths of a pothole. Danny was on his knees and sitting back on his heels; his chin was on his chest, his eyes gawking at the red froth seething from the leather through holes in his flight jacket. He looked up at Karsten, unable to lift his chin and muttered indistinctly. His head lolling, he managed to lift his chin, and as he pointed flaccidly toward Rachael, more words wheezed past the froth on his lips. Didn’t see that coming. His chest made a gurgling sound, and he coughed a wet laugh. His head pivoted on the fulcrum of his chin, looking now at Karsten. Didn’t expect that at all. He blinked his eyes sluggishly; the rain was like a flood of tears upon his face. Fucking krauts, he murmured. He flopped his head toward Rachael then back again at Karsten. Fucking krauts. He managed more vigor in the repetition. Even the women’ll kill you. The light went out in his gaze; he slumped over on his side in the edge of the road.

Karsten stood over him, watching the rain beat a host of tiny fountains in the road as its rhythmic tap pacified his hurried heart rate. A dilated pupil normalized and the sound moved into the background as if the rainfall had slacked off. He became aware of her standing there. Karsten turned and embraced Rachael. Are you alright?! He pushed rain drenched hair from her face and kissed her. Are you okay?

I—I do not know….

Give me that. He took the pistol from her, released the hammer and threw it into the glove box where she had found it. Get back into the car. He helped her find her seat. I will move the wagon. He closed the door and ran to the front of the wagon, climbed up into the driver’s seat and snapped the traces. Walk on! He shouted and the horses started forward skidding the wagon behind. Karsten reached down and released the brake; the wagon lurched forward and off of the road. Ho back! He reined the horses to a stop. He jumped from the wagon and ran back to the car; he threw open the door, jumped in and rammed the idling engine into gear. The car shot forward between the dead airmen and past the wagon.

Will the horses be okay? Rachael turned her head, following them as the car passed.

Pardon?

The horses will be alright like that?

Yes, of course. I left the break off; they will find their way home. He shifted into second and punched the accelerator. The car surged forward into the pouring rain. Karsten muttered a curse under his breath at the windshield wipers for their inadequacy and sighing, he let up on the gas.

What if home is the other way? They will be unable to turn the wagon around on this narrow road.

Karsten reached over rubbing her neck reassuringly. They will be fine, Rachael. They do not concern me. It is you that I am worried about. She continued to stare vacantly through the passenger window without responding. Rachael, please. Say something so I can know that you are alright.

She jerked her head up ever-so-delicately and then smiled about the mouth. Yes; I think that I am fine and Karsten, can we just not talk right now?

Very well.

They drove on in silence for several miles. The road emerged from the forest into a pastoral setting, the rain withdrawing to a sprinkle. Stellate beams of sunlight broke momentarily from behind the thick cover of clouds to the southwest. Karsten noticed in the rearview mirror and pointed an extended thumb backward in that direction. Rachael, look – the sunlight! Is this not beautiful to see?

She shifted to look over her shoulder. Karsten, please; stop the car. He was relieved to do so despite the urgent need to continue. She stepped from the car watching as the sunlight moved and shifted tossing laser beams to earth. It is as though the earth is suspended upon strings of light, she mused.

The clouds roiled and opened to lob a brilliant ray in their direction. Oh, my God, Karsten exclaimed as a prismatic arch appeared in the mist immediately ahead of them. The base of the rainbow straddled the road as it rippled away, gradually moving into the distance along the path they would be traveling. The light blinked out and with it the rainbow as well. Karsten laughed. I cannot believe that! I have never seen such a thing! I have never imagined that such a thing was possible to see.

He glanced across the car roof. Rachael was trembling; her tears had joined the rain’s kiss upon her cheek. She began to shake; a wrenching wale of anguish erupted that sent a shudder of empathy through Karsten. He had not conceived of such a sound coming out of her – a sound so primal, so painfully ragged and emotionally raw, so absolutely unbridled in its expression. She turned her face into the wind, sobbing, her arms clutched to her midriff as though she had sustained a disemboweling wound and now struggled to contain herself. Her hair flapped and slapped about her shoulders in long sopping cords.

She stepped away from the car, walking down the roadside, and crying out, but not to Karsten. I thought but for a brief moment that you might have turned away from me. He watched her as she walked away; her words growing increasingly more distant, her words meant for something greater. But I was mistaken. Oh, thank you that I was mistaken.

He watched as the light played tricks with his sight in the time when she grew smaller until he could no longer hear her speaking at all. There were moments when the sound of wind and rain ebbed enough to let him know that she was talking; he was certain as well that moments passed when she said little, when she simply paused in her walking as though she was listening. He stood there in the rain, watching, aware that something of imminent significance was happening, certain that the understanding would come and content to allow the moment to unfold.

It was as though the rainbow had cast a spell upon the land in its passing, unhinging the physics of normal space-time, and dissolving matter into its ultimate constituency. He watched as the pathway before her progressively effervesced and sublimated into swirling scintillation to rise about her feet in a cloud of crystalline dust ascending about her legs, twisting and turning upon itself to spiral ever higher. Was this an effect of the wind and rain within an ever-changing play of light? He expected to see her lifted up and carried away into some twirling and rapturous conveyance, some chariot of the gods – malicious in its intent to carry her away and merciful in the respite that would at last be hers. He blinked and the vision persisted; he closed his eye and the feeling of it was there.

She turned about at a point far distant, retracing her steps, as the rain came and went, as the wind gusts tossed the fringes of her dress then plastered her clothing against her legs. She was soaked to the skin, the contours of her body, of her legs, too well delineated with the heavens dancing in the background and a sense of beauty walking with her. He watched as she drew nearer, having to remind himself to breathe, having to ask himself why he felt so overcome by what he saw.

She is beautiful, yes; exceedingly so, exceptionally so, but there is more to this than the eye can behold. There is more and I cannot seem to grasp the meaning of it all.

His thoughts were catapulted into the moments before the improbable occurred, before the rainbow, into the time of the killing, to peer through a window of her perspective. His mind occupied two places in time while she was still coming toward him on the roadside - she was back in the forest emerging from the car, his pistol clutched in her steady hands, both eyes open, sighting, breathing, feeling everything around her, knowing what was about to occur beyond all doubt, knowing that Karsten was about to die tragically, and certain in the knowledge that a greater destiny was at hand, that an unlimited benevolence underpinned it all and offered up the suggestion for an all-together different kind of experience. The enormity of this lifted up its presence within the beauty of her presence; it was as if something powerfully substantial had lifted its face within that beauty and compassion swept out and before it. Her index finger was one with that outwardly radiating impulse and the projectile conveyed itself within that current - the bullet trajectory aligned within the clarity of its intention; it was ferociously benevolent in its power and of a quality altogether unexpected.

Karsten struggled to find something in his understanding to compare it to and there was nothing. A word entered into his understanding with a new feel to it, a new life – compassion. It was all encompassing, all embracing and unflinchingly capable of knowing the best response, where in all life is taken into account and all consequence to that life fully appreciated. The time-frame of its conceptual grasp felt limitless. Where a tree might fall in the forest, it did not simply hear the sound; it felt and knew the consequence of this tree tumbling to earth, in every forest, in every time, past, present and future. It felt the tree impacting with the matter that surrounded it and knew every possibility simultaneously, even as that consequence projected over the forest and into the earth and beyond across the universe. It fully held the infinity of possibility within itself, felt all permutations at once and then offered up its recommendation for how best to proceed to affect the most beneficent outcome.

Karsten searched his feelings, looking for what he had been taught to expect from God, but there was nothing here in this experience of a demanding nature, of a tendency to condemn another’s failure to receive and submit to its suggestion. The feeling of meeting with beneficence seemingly extended into infinity; with each effort to sense even farther into the void, he found compassion waiting; indeed, for as far out as his awareness might proceed, there was only this.

He watched from within her as this intelligent benevolence electrified Rachael’s material form, as her heart recognized it, trusted it and opened itself into it. All that she had allowed, now advanced into and through her, arriving at her fingertip, a higher order of understanding registering, recommending and then allowing her to choose. Her prior commitment was already in place, as a reiterated choice to trust and to submit herself into the spirit of benevolence, that inner posture setting forth a cascading probability of activity. She opened the glove box, grasped the pistol, threw the safety off and chambered a round. She threw open the door and stepped to the road as the rain fell about her, as the love showered her from out of the limitless depths within her.

The flames exploded from her heart in a spirit-warrior’s battle cry as the infinite greater-ness released the current to deliver the final green light – a pathway of feeling into the best and highest option possible within the complexity of this situation. She responded by trusting the feeling resonating within her heart and allowed it to express itself within the material of her body. She flexed her finger to fire the bullets, and then traversed her arms through a gentle distance to fire again. Matter struck matter, ripping at it, disrupting its functionality irreparably. Life within matter shuddered in the impacting and began to withdraw, beginning at a very small and cellular scale at the immediate site of the disruption and spilling outward to impact and encompass increasing larger spheres of micro-intelligence. All physiological processes essential for life of a corporal form collapsed and then ceased in an instant for one man and within moments for the second [The plummet from the perfectly balanced homeostasis of physical health to death transpired in seconds along a human appreciation of the passage of time].

Worlds of evolutionary life progress along different scales of time appreciation; that which passes in seconds may seem like years in the life of tiny intelligences responsible for metabolism in the mitochondria of neurons lying immediately adjacent to a bullet path’s cerebral devastation. The realization struck Karsten with stunning profundity; a man fell to the road with a bullet in his brain; all essential brain activity had ceased in seconds, but at a microscopic level the disaster had taken the equivalent of months to transact locally. Three months of his life in Munich as allied bombers pounded the city felt to be an accurate comparison of perspectives. The shutdown of tiny mitochondria impacted a brain cell in much the same way as the rolling blackouts of power outages after bombs struck the city’s power plant. It was this microcosmic awareness radiating out into the surrounding world that impacted with Rachael to register at so many unconscious levels - a consequence of her choosing to pull the trigger. She had not sought to avoid this awareness of her actions; she had embraced that awareness and for a moment the conflicting aspects had waged war within her psyche. A microcosmic world came to an end so that a larger world might find its higher calling. Her heart made no distinction as to worth; a smaller world was of equal value to the larger. An altogether different criterion had been employed in offering the guidance to which she had responded. A sense of the courage she had mustered in inviting this dilemma of conscience was daunting for Karsten; he wondered if he might ever possess for himself such a startling capacity. He would never look upon her quite the same again.

The sound of footfalls broke Karsten from out of his reverie. Rachael stood in front of the car, the firelight once again restored in her eyes. I doubted my heart for a moment, Karsten. She smiled flickeringly. I am over it now. Can we go?

________________

Karsten had sensed a need for silence; they had traveled wordlessly now for over an hour putting considerable distance between themselves and the killing ground. It was late in the afternoon and the temperature was dropping. He had waged a running battle with the controls to the heater and after an hour frustration caught up with him. Damn this infernal thing to hell! He pounded the dashboard. Useless shit hill of a king turd!

Rachael snickered, and then laughed out loud. Did you just make that up yourself?

Make what up? Embarrassed with his loss of control, Karsten opted to pretend ignorance hoping she wouldn’t press the matter.

This business of a ‘shit hill king.’ Is it original? Can I use it myself in my writing sometime if I promise to quote you?

Then you will be quoting György, if you must. He glanced away from the road. She was bundled up in a blanket, but her lips were smiling in an insipid red. You are pale as a ghost and shivering.

Shivering with anticipation, darling; go on. Give me details….as fragrantly as you dare.

She spoke with such spirited dignity that his heart was compelled into admiration of her. He wanted to somehow whisk her away to some fantastical island of safety; the temptation was excruciating to consider for it seemed a possibility too far out of reach. He watched her, pale and smiling, shivering and laughing and put the thought out of his mind. We were mucking out the stalls; I was nine—ten perhaps and growing tired of shoveling shit, and I said as much: ‘How much longer until we are finished shoveling this shit?’ Karsten laughed heartily. Yes, that is precisely what I asked him. He stood up straight and leaned on his shovel handle and looked at me with such passion as to convince even the Pope himself of his veracity. He said: ‘we are finished when we crown a king turd to reign there upon our dunghill of shit.’ He nodded once to seal his proclamation and then went back to work with grand immediacy – a gypsy Percival on a quest for the Holy Grail.

If he was Percival then who were you? She grinned deviously, clasping her hands together. You were his fledgling Lancelot, were you not?

The traitor Lancelot. Oh, ye of little faith in me. He glanced away abruptly, as if stung by insinuation. I would hope never to betray a just cause. It was all the response he was to make.

Rachael endured his silence momentarily. Frowning, she drew her woolen blanket more tightly around her and said, That is not the end of the story. She moved across the seat to huddle next to him. I know there is more. Tell me the rest of the story. She kissed the scarred side of his face and waited expectantly.

Well, there is more, but for the life of me I cannot resurrect it up from a death of forgetfulness. He pretended to give his attention over to driving. Rachael leaned in and kissed his neck repeatedly working her way to his ear. Ouch! Did you just bite me? Karsten exclaimed. I do believe you just bit my ear!

I must warn you, my friend. Rachael assumed a Slavic accent and with a playfully hazardous tone she continued. I am gifted in the art of making men talk. You are holding out on me, darling, and I shall not stand for it, you hear; I shall not stand for it another minute.

You are correct, my dear, Karsten responded falling in stride with the role-play. But you will get nothing out of me! Not a word, I say!

Then you must be bitten, you swine, and bitten hard! She gave his earlobe a lively nip.

By God, that hurt! Continuing the feint, he added. Bite me all you like; not a blessed thing shall I tell you!

All I like? Come to mama, my tender Shashlyk….

Ouch, by all that is holy! You are the devil’s own concubine!

And if I should bite you here?

I will talk! I will sing like a canary! I will squawk like a chicken, but please not there!

Rachael buried her lips into his ear; a guttural growling decrescendo passed into a quite purr. Then sing, darling, before I lose my patience with you.

Very well then. He paused. What were we talking about?

She smiled, kissed his face abruptly and scooted across the car seat with her back against the door to wait in a state of severe expectation. She crossed her arms. The tale of the king turd, good sir – out with the finale, and be quick about it.

Ah yes, well, I fear it can only hope to tarnish these extemporaneous proceedings as exemplary as they have been, and may I remark at what an outstanding actress you are, my darling. I suspect that Hollywood will have a place amongst the stars for you after the war.

She responded with a classical Hollywood pout in prelude to a sly reply in perfectly accented American English, Hey, buster; quit your holding out on me. Ya’ got me. Let’s have that story now; see.

Okay, Miss Stanwyck, Okay! I’ll talk! I’ll talk!

Miss Stanwyck? Rachael looked appalled. Barbara Stanwyck, truly? This is not at all who I was reaching for— Her eyes brightened. Oh, what a scoundrel you are! You had me fooled, if not for the mischief I see in you with a face that belies it all—a card-sharp, you, sir, are not! She thumped his shoulder playfully. No more of your tomfoolery. I will have that story in full.

Ah, yes; very well; how strange that it’s all coming back to me. Karsten paused for a moment, composing himself and taking on a more staid attitude, then abandoning his brief stint in American English he resumed speaking in German. So we returned to mucking the stall and considerable time passed; long enough to purge my thoughts of our previous conversation of the king of turds when all of a sudden György looked up and yelped like he had raked up a snake. I jumped back, of course, and he threw down his shovel and hop-skipped over to a corner, bent down and presented me with a dinner platter of a dried out and crusty ole cow pie. ‘At last,’ he shouted. ‘His majesty, at last! We have found him at last!’ And what is most peculiar is that the cow patty did indeed have a face!

Rachael leaned across the car and gave him a delighted peck on the cheek and said, Oh, so now you have returned to your lies – a turd with a face, you say?

Honestly! I am not making this shit up! He grinned at his pun lending his claim little credibility. György likely found this very cow patty and set it aside for just such a ruse as this; for goodness sake, now that I consider it, we were in a horse stall and this was a cow pie! I did not see this contradiction until just now. But I assure you; the turd had a kingly face to it with a beard and a crown.

And what became of it, Rachael laughed, leaning back against the car door with abandon. Did you set it upon its kingly throne?

Karsten reached past her shoulder and applied the passenger door lock. I did, indeed. György presented me with ‘his majesty, king turd’ and I had the honor of placing him upon his dunghill throne. Oh, how György did set about laughing. He clapped together his big mitts for hands and did a little Rumanian gig, and grabbed me up and took me for a turn until we were both laughing uproariously, our sides in stitches. Well, Viollca came rushing out to see what the matter was, let go with a cheer at the sight of us and joined in until we had danced ourselves silly.

What a lovely story, Karsten. She smiled, her face alight and leaned over again to kiss him. He looked away from the road to see her sitting there. I love you, Karsten. She said it very simply, very straightforwardly and with nothing in the way of intense inflection in her voice, and he thought for a moment that he might weep.

Yes, well; I had forgotten all about it until now. He sniffed and wiped his eye. You are quite the magician in that way, Rachael; in that way that you have about you.

Oh? She gave her eyelashes a dainty flutter. A magician, huh? And what sort of magician might I be?

He reached up with his handkerchief to clear fog from the windshield. Do you know how some have a propensity for finding the silver lining in every dark cloud?

Uh huh.

You are the silver lining in the dark cloud of my world, Rachael.

She smiled warmly. That is such a sweet thing to say, Karsten.

He swallowed then gathered himself. No platitude, Rachael; not just a carelessly tossed sweet sentiment. You are the silver lining— He faltered as his voice tripped up in the emotion he felt. He turned his attention to the road and after a moment he tried again. What I am struggling to say is that you are turning my dark cloud into silver. He cleared his throat. You make me want to live my life as I have never hoped possible.

Karsten! You really piss me off at times! She crossed her arms glaring at him with great severity before continuing. You are unlike any man I have ever imagined. You hear my thoughts and then you preempt me with them, denying me the glory of using them first, because you see, the truth is this; you have changed me in ways you cannot fathom, but now, if I were to tell you this, you would only think me a plagiarist at worst and insincere in my thinking at best. She laughed and hugged him. I am a terrible bitch, am I not with such cause to complain.

Do you truly feel this way?

That I am a dreadful bitch?

"I see you