Branded by Fate

By Mollie Moon

A group of nine appear out of nowhere insisting that life has a moral code and that Lou must abide by, as promised. But Lou does not remember ever having made such a promise. Nonetheless, he is haunted by appearances of strangers and nightmares that drive him near insanity. He is a young attorney striving for a successful career and has landed a dream job in a well-known firm. Clearly these strangers are mistaking him for someone else and while his new career needs his full focus and his family wants his attention, the strangers keep showing up at inconvenient times and in varying forms, pushy, demanding and persistent.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Suka Press LLC
• Release date: Apr 5, 2015
• ISBN: 9780978759360

Mollie Moon

Mollie's new novel SEASIDE DAISIES is available in May 2018Other books by Mollie Moon:FIVE WISHESBRANDED BY FATEIf you seek adventure in books, read Five Wishes and Seaside Daisies, describing the continuing journey of the same protagonist.Mollie Moon was born and raised in Europe where she traveled extensively from an early age, mingling and living with people of different cultures and backgrounds. She studied Applied Linguistics at the University of Heidelberg, Germany, and during continued studies in California, fell in love with the land and its people. She enjoys the sunny climate, openness of the people, the vastness of the Pacific ocean, and a closeness to pets and nature. Mollie is fascinated with things unseen - thoughts, emotions, beliefs, mysteries - the invisible world that so affects us all every day, and loves to put her observations on paper. Branded by Fate was her first novel.

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Branded by Fate

Mollie Moon

First Smashwords Edition 2015

Copyright 2015 by Mollie Moon

Published by Suka Press LLC via Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover images courtesy of feedough, canstockphoto & Joleene Naylor

Cover by Joleene Naylor

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Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. . .

Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakens.

-- Carl Jung

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Chapter One

It was exactly six o’clock Friday evening as I arrived at the doctor’s office and approached the young spectacled receptionist sitting behind a double glass window.

Yes?

Lou van Helden, I said bending down slightly to speak through the small slit between the glass. I have an appointment at six o’clock with Dr. Goldman.

Oh, yes, she said handing me a clipboard. We have new forms. Please fill them out carefully and return them with your insurance card.

I gave her a long look as I took the clipboard but she stared in her computer screen. She wore a dark pink outfit. Her face was pale, as were her bare arms.

I scanned the crowded waiting room and sat down between a coughing teenager and a chubby man with red cheeks who was breathing heavily. Tucking in my elbows, I tried to fit inside the arm rests of my chair. I took the blue pen off the clipboard wondering how many people had coughed on it today, and obediently filled out the requested information.

Name: Lou van Helden. Height: six foot. Weight: one hundred eighty pounds. Age: thirty. Address: 33 Sage Canyon, Laguna Beach, California. Occupation: lawyer. I filled in my driver’s license and social security numbers, which I had memorized, and checked all known childhood diseases: mumps, measles and chicken pox. Mother’s health: fine. Father’s health: good. Siblings: none. Chronic diseases: none. Accidents:

I took a deep breath and sighed, and looked up facing a small television blaring drug commercials. The teenage girl next to me was still coughing. When did I crash my car? Five years ago. I had a broken leg and stitches above my right eyebrow that had healed perfectly. Emergency contact: My cousin Carl? He lived in town but my closest relatives were my parents in San Diego. I filled in ‘Father - Paul van Helden’. I read and signed the patient consent form, insurance information and arbitration clause and handed the clipboard, together with my insurance card, back to the receptionist through the tiny slit underneath the double glass window pane.

Back in my seat, I thumbed through various magazines looking for anything entertaining but found mostly advertising. The nurse appeared a few times calling patients. About thirty minutes later, the teenage girl next to me and the chubby man had already been called in when the door opened again.

Mr. van Helden?

I followed her inside.

Stand here, please, she requested pointing to the scales. From the tone of her voice, I could tell she was not one to disobey. I had not met this nurse before and wondered if she was new. She looked like she was in her late thirties, emaciated, her brown hair cut short and spiky like a boy’s.

One hundred seventy-nine, she announced, which was no news to me.

In here, please, she said pointing to the treatment room across from the scales.

Sit up here, please. I need to take your blood pressure.

I sat down on the treatment table and held my left arm out to her as she wrapped a wide leather cuff around my upper arm and pumped the cuff up with air until it felt as though she wanted to blow off my arm. Slowly she allowed the air to retrieve, took off the cuff and marked the results on her electronic clipboard.

What is it? I inquired.

One hundred thirty-five over seventy, she said. I was surprised at the high upper measurement.

Are you nervous? she asked, still punching information onto her chart.

Not particularly, I said.

Have you been ill?

No.

Why are you seeing the doctor today?

Headaches.

Do you feel that you’re coming down with something? A cold? The flu?"

No, just headaches.

I see. She looked up from her chart and our eyes met for the first time. Who gave you those baby blue eyes?

I grinned. That must have been my father.

Are you of German descent? she asked.

Dutch. My family came to America when I was ten.

Her eyes were inquisitive and friendly above her sterile all blue cotton outfit. Abruptly, she stood up. The doctor will be right in, she said, door knob in hand, as she looked over her shoulder to catch one more glimpse of my baby blue eyes.

I winked at her.

She turned and left and I was alone in the white room sitting on the hard treatment table, facing a gray cabinet with trays full of sparkling clean medical utensils that looked like torture instruments. Above the cabinet hung a small glass box with a skull and bones symbol. Underneath it in big black letters was the inscription: DO NOT TOUCH.

Listening to the air conditioning unit above my head, I became more aware of my pounding headache. I was trying to locate the exact center of pain inside my head when I heard Dr. Goldman fumbling my file outside the door. With a slight knock, he entered.

Lou, he said looking at me from above his reading glasses. I haven’t seen you in a while. What brings you here today?

Headaches, I said forcing a smile.

Headaches, he repeated. He put my file and the electronic clipboard on the gray cabinet.

Open your mouth and say ah. He stuck a tasteless flat wooden stick in my mouth holding my tongue down.

Ah.

Hm, he moved to my side. Lean your head slightly toward me. A round metal device landed in my left ear feeling cold and uncomfortable. Before I could shiver, he had already pulled it out and moved around the table bending my head toward him, this time staring into my right ear with the same device. Quickly he removed it. With a couple of quick steps, he was facing me.

Hm, he palpated the sides of my throat. Aha.

He walked behind me and palpitated my neck and shoulders. Where exactly are the headaches?

Kind of all over.

He walked back around me, took the electronic clipboard and sat on a round stool on rollers facing me.

How long have you had these headaches?

For about three months.

Were you sick when they started? A cold? The flu?

No.

Did anything unusual happen in your life around that time?

Not that I’m aware of.

How is your father?

Fine.

Your mother?

She’s fine, too."

Your job?

Okay.

And aren’t you living with someone? Your wife? A girl friend?

We broke up.

And how long ago was that?

About . . . three months ago.

And is that when the headaches started?"

Oh.

The muscles on the sides of your throat as well as your neck and shoulders are very tight, Dr. Goldman explained. You carry a lot of tension.

I’m aware of that.

Do you exercise?

I used to.

But you don’t do it any more?

Not since the breakup. I’ve mainly just focused on work, trying to keep myself occupied.

I recommend that you exercise again, Lou, Dr. Goldman said. In movement your body releases tension naturally.

Okay.

Do you meditate?

Never have.

Ever get professional massages?

No.

All those things would be good for you, Lou.

So you don’t think I have a brain tumor or something? I asked.

No, Dr. Goldman smiled. I think you just have a lot of tension and you carry it right in your neck and shoulders causing tension headaches. I’ll give you a muscle relaxant. He scribbled the name of a drug on his prescription pad. One at night should be all you need. I’ll give you enough for a month. If the headaches are still not gone after that, please see me again. He looked up at me. Do you have any other symptoms?

I’ve had some strange nightmares lately.

What kind of nightmares?

The kind where I’m hunted, killed or my eyelids won’t open when I wake up.

Have you ever thought of seeing a counselor?

Not really.

He made more markings on his electronic chart.

So you don’t think I need an MRI?

No. Unless . . . He looked at me sternly. If you’re really worried, we can have one done.

That’s okay. I’ll take the pills.

And please start to exercise again, Lou, tomorrow! There’s nothing physically wrong with you. He handed me the prescription and padded me on the shoulder. I’ll be happy to give you a referral to a counselor, he said. Sometimes talking things out helps.

That’s okay.

Alright then, you take care of yourself and get rid of those headaches.

Thanks, Dr. Goldman.

We smiled and shook hands.

I put the prescription in my pocket and left the office. Taking a deep breath, I kicked a pebble in the parking lot and roared my car’s engine as I pulled out on the street. On my way home, I stopped at the pharmacy and picked up the drugs. ‘Tomorrow,’ I thought, ‘tomorrow I’ll start running again.’

After a quick macaroni dinner and some TV, I took the muscle relaxant and went to bed around ten. I had the best night’s sleep except that I had another weird dream but luckily it was not a nightmare. I saw two people, a man and a woman, sitting on top of a mountain staring at me. They did not say a word, they just stared. It seemed they had a message for me but no matter how much I tried to prod them, they never spoke. I could still see their faces clearly in front of me as I awoke. The woman was blond and slender with striking blue eyes and fair skin. The man’s skin was olive, his eyes dark and penetrating, his hair black. They both appeared ageless.

I got up around seven, fully energized from the good night’s sleep. I took a long shower, thoroughly enjoying the warm relaxing water, and shaved looking in the mirror, scrutinizing my face. There was no sign of wrinkles yet. The slight waves of my blond mane needed a cut but I was not too concerned. I boiled a couple of eggs the European way and ate them with two pieces of toast and jam. The house was extremely quiet. After cleaning the plastic knife I had used, I roamed through my drawers pulling out my blue sweats and white T-shirt. My gray and red running shoes were tucked away in the bottom of my closet. As I tied the shoe laces, I smiled in anticipation of a good run.

Although the beach was only a couple of blocks away, I yearned to run in the woods. There was a great path I had taken before, in fact, just three months ago. It was serene and quiet. I got my car out of the garage and drove a few miles to get there. After finding a parking spot in the shade, I stretched my legs against a tree and was ready to go.

Gasping for air with each breath, I pushed myself forward. Higher and higher I ran uphill exerting my muscles, each breath providing the fuel for a few more steps. At

times I ran in a zig zag fashion, as though I were drunk, trying to avoid stepping on the snails last night’s rain had brought to the surface. Despite the pain in my legs, it felt good allowing life back into my body purging the sticky mist that had clung to my veins lately making me feel sluggish, tired and drained. The rhythm of my feet pounding the forest floor put me in a relaxed trance, my mind rehearsing the monumental themes that seemed to occupy me these days. ‘What am I doing with my life? Where am I heading? Will I ever be recognized? Will I ever get married? Be successful? Get what I want?’

I stopped my run for a moment and bending in the waist, cupping my knees with my hands, I drew in a deep breath. It filled my lungs, giving me new energy. Tiny drops of sweat formed on my forehead as I continued to jog up the hill. The birds’ harmonious chirps cheered me on. A tiny crack in the tree made me look up and stop running for a moment. A squirrel, most likely not the cause of the noise, caught my attention as it ran up the tree, stopped, looked right, took a few steps, looked left, took a few steps, peeking from behind the tree trunk as though it was playing hide and seek with me. I smiled and resumed my jog.

A slight breeze brushed my face as I picked up my pace. I was looking forward to reaching the top of the hill and dwelling in that quiet spot for a while, just allowing myself to relax deeply. I had never seen anybody else up there during months and months of jogging in this area. It was my haven.

As the woods came to a clearing, I reached the top and came to a dead stop. ‘What on earth. . .’ I thought as I looked straight ahead facing a beautiful old house. It occupied the very top of the hill. I could not understand it. Just three months ago there had been no house, not even an indication that a house would ever be built up here in this wilderness. Yet this house looked as though it had been here for ages. How could this be?

Slowly I walked toward it listening for any sign of occupation. There was no street leading up this hill, no leftover building material, no sign of roadwork or ditches dug for electrical wires, water pipes or a gas line, no signs of recent construction at all. As I approached the house, all I heard were my own footsteps and my own breathing.

Lou!

I came to a dead stop, looking up at the house, trying to locate the voice that knew my name but could not see anyone. Puzzled I looked over my shoulder, first right, then left, but there was nobody. Slowly I turned in a circle scanning the entire area. I listened intently but heard only birds singing and the slightest movement of leaves high up in the trees.

Lou!

There it was again. The voice was sharp and this time I was almost certain that it had come from inside the house.

Hello? I called out. I ran around the entire house and noticed that there were no windows on the bottom floor. Who would build a house without windows on the bottom floor?

Lou! There was an urgency in her voice. Up here!

Hello? I called out again as I looked up but the large windows on the second floor reflected the morning sun and I could not see inside. Who are you? Do I know you? I asked. There was no answer.

Do you need help? I shouted and listened intently. I ran toward the front of the house and stood by the entrance door. There was no bell. The door was ornately carved from wood and without a door knob, appearing as though it belonged somewhere in Asia.

Hello? I called again. I held my breath as I leaned my ear against the wooden door listening for any noises inside the house. Are you alright? I asked but did not hear a response. I stepped back squinting my eyes in a futile attempt to look inside the upstairs windows once again but the reflective sun blinded me. Wiping the sweat off my forehead with my left hand, I covered my eyes for a moment trying to regain my sight.

Huhhhhhh, I heard the woman’s voice breathe in as though she was frightened. My left arm dropped as I stumbled backwards a couple of steps.

Lou, don’t leave! Please! Up here!

The staccato voice sent chills down my spine as my overheated body continued to press moisture through the pores of my skin.

What do you want me to do? Who are you?

Come in! the faint woman’s voice from behind the blinding window called out.

I waited a few seconds before I ran up to the house with quick steps, then paused, my body as still as the forest floor, my mind racing. I’m coming in! I finally said. Facing the front door, I wondered if I would have to force it open. I took a deep breath and pushed my flat left hand against it. To my surprise, the door was unlocked.

I pushed it open sideways and found a second ornate wooden sliding door, similar to the first one, right behind it. I touched it hesitantly, then slid this second door open, too, without any resistance. A third door stood in my way, in workmanship, size and thickness exactly like the other two. I touched its soft wood and listened again. There was no sound. Are you in there? I asked and listened. I turned around wondering if I should leave.

Lou!

I’m coming! I listened for an answer. None came. Nonetheless, I pushed the door open wide with one movement of my arm.

A small entrance hall presented itself. To the left was a wall of red bricks, perfectly stacked standing at attention like a guard with two dark wooden spears stretching from the ground to the ceiling like bars in a prison cell. Straight ahead was a wooden staircase which curved on the bottom, then led straight upward.

Hello? I called but received no answer. Are you there? I put my left foot on the bottom stair touching the banister with my hand and listened to the silence. I’m coming up! I announced with trepidation in my voice. Outrunning my uneasiness, I took two steps at once and, within seconds, reached the upper floor.

A small hallway offered only one door which was wide open. I saw a large room with a bamboo floor. It was light and bright inside. Toward the left was a stack of blocks which formed a table with a wood carving on it. Besides that, the room was empty.

Hello? I asked more softly, still standing in the doorway. My stomach fluttered slightly as the drops of perspiration from my previous run slowly moistened my shirt. My breathing slowed. All I could hear was my pulse beating in my ears faster than normal.

I slipped off my dirty shoes and cautiously stepped into the room. I looked at the wooden ceiling, the three large windows and the empty walls. Drawn to the table as though it had magnetic powers over me, I picked up the wood carving which presented nine people, women and men, some holding hands, some holding another by the shoulder. It seemed almost alive. In the silence of the room, I held this masterpiece with reverence. Still listening intently, I looked up again, scanning the room. There was nobody there. I listened into the hallway. Holding the wood carving in the palms of my hands, I studied the expressive faces, then put it back down on the table, still marveling over who might have carved this masterpiece, when suddenly I heard a knock.

My body jerked as I stepped backwards. Quickly my eyes scanned the entire room once again but I saw no movement. My gut told me this had not been a knock on the door. It was a knock on the room.

My eyes wide open, my heart pounding in my throat like that of a little boy who had been left alone in a haunted mansion, I took a deep breath and with an adult voice as calmly as I could manage, said, Hello? Where are you? Please show yourself!

You've heard our call, the familiar woman’s voice said softly. Thank you for coming. We didn't want to overwhelm you by our sudden presence. May we enter?

Please, I said as though I had a normal conversation with a stranger. A drop of sweat ran down the side of my face as I stood in the middle of the room, my knees slightly bent, ready for a fast escape down the stairs. My head jerked to the left as a door at the far side of the room opened. I had not noticed it before.

They appeared before me, all nine of them, looking exactly as the people in the wood carving, except that they were more beautiful, radiant and alive. As they filed in, a feeling of harmony filled the room and me.

They gently smiled at me, eliminating some of my fears, and one woman with long blond hair and baby blue eyes invited me with a movement of her slender hand to sit down on the floor with them. I recognized her from my dream from the night before and the mysterious familiarity of this woman allowed me to stay. As I sat down with my legs crossed, my heart beat slowed. They, too, sat down, surrounding me in a half circle. As though having been invited to a cup of tea by a friendly host in a foreign country, I now felt safe with these strangers and relaxed into the presence of the experience. I looked in the circle and saw faces of all colors and cultures. In the seconds it took to scan the nine, I tried to identify their origins although it was an impossible task. A woman from India perhaps, a white woman from Europe, a South American man, an oriental woman, a black man, an aborigine, a Native American, and two women of mixed blood from the American continent, I assumed. Of course, I could be wrong. I was no anthropologist. I wondered why I was even trying to analyze their origins.

I am Icanya, the woman with the blond hair said.

Are you the one who called me? I asked. I kept hearing a voice outside and it seemed to be coming from inside the house.

She smiled. We call ourselves the Novemvirat since there are nine of us. We want to tell you about our inner turmoil because we feel that you can help us.

Me? I whispered. I could not quite understand where they were coming from.

Yes, Icanya said. Please, hear us out.

I nodded affirmatively still wondering who they were and why they had chosen me. I wondered if they had legal problems, immigration problems, that as an attorney they hoped I could solve.

We're concerned about the earth, Icanya said. The environment is supposed to be clean, healthy and well functioning. But look around you. It is unclean, unhealthy and not functioning. Do something about it. You're a Knight of the First Order.

You must mistake me for someone else, I said.

No, Icanya said, you are a Knight of the First Order. We know.

I don't know what you mean.

They looked at me with solemn faces as I searched their eyes for clues. Not an eyelash moved. I sighed deeply and clenched my teeth several times until I became aware of the tightness in my jaw and let go.

Haven’t you heard of the glaciers melting at an alarming speed? Icanya asked, the rainforest being destroyed multiple acres at a time?

I raised my eyebrows.

Haven’t you heard that the ozone layer diminishes constantly causing greater radiation on the earth? Haven’t you noticed that devastating hurricanes and tornadoes appear in increasing numbers?

Yes, I am aware of those things but what do you want me to do about it? My voice was a nuance louder than intended. I felt a wave of heat churning in my stomach.

You are asking us what to do about it, Lou, when you are the Knight of the First Order?

You really are mistaking me for someone else.

We know who you are, Lou. There is no escape. You are a Knight of the First Order. You have got to find a solution. As a matter of fact, you have it already inside of you.

But I don't! I protested. I don’t know you and I don’t know what a Knight of the First Order is.

The earth is starting to be in bad shape, Icanya said. Something good has to happen, Lou. It has to happen soon. You must fix it, Lou. Don’t you remember your promise?

What promise?

Your promise to fulfil your obligations as Knight of the First Order.

"What promise? I repeated, my voice still too loud in this unfurnished room. I don’t remember a promise. When have I made a promise?"

Icanya turned to the Novemvirat looking from one to the other. He has forgotten, she said. Their countenances fell, their shoulders slumped. They looked like parents who know their son’s potential although he is failing miserably in school. We have to train him from scratch.

The heat in the pit of my stomach turned into a painful ache.

Icanya turned toward me once again, her eyes slightly moist.

Who do you think is in charge of the earth, Lou? Icanya asked like a first grade school teacher quizzing a pupil.

We are, I said with great conviction.

Ultimately, God is in charge of the earth, Lou, do you know? You have been given stewardship but He is still in charge.

I blinked slowly. Uh, of course. My cheeks began to feel hotter than before.

Listen, Icanya said and the Novemvirat took turns expressing their viewpoints:

God created the heavens and the earth.

The whole earth is His.

He is called the Judge of all the earth.

He can rise to shake the earth.

He can wipe mankind from the face of the earth if He so desires, they said. As stewards of the earth, the human race is not very caring. That must change.

I nodded.

Who is in charge of your life, Lou? Icanya asked.

What? Me, of course, I said tapping my hand on my chest.

Are you?

I looked at the group of nine. Am I not?

Icanya’s face was solemn but her eyes held a sadness that pierced my heart.

What? I asked looking at her. What do you want from me?

What do you think God wants from you?

I don’t know! My voice sounded harsher than intended.

They sat motionless staring at me as my stomach growled. Embarrassed, I smiled but they remained untouched by my physical discomfort, apparently still waiting for an appropriate answer to Icanya’s question.

What God wants from me? I believe God wants me to live a good life, I finally said and smiled, proud of myself for having found such a diplomatic answer. Not harming anyone, I added, not killing anyone.

They kept staring, motionless, quiet. I felt as though I was at a rehearsal and I had forgotten my lines. My mind was desperately searching my memory bank for any appropriate principles I had learned as a child. Honor my parents.

Don’t you think that it takes a little more than that? The human race was given stewardship over the earth. What do you think is expected of you in return?

I lowered my chin glancing up at the group as once again, one by one, they spoke throwing words at me, principles, qualities they felt were important:

Service.

Compassion."

Kindness.

Honor.

Courage.

Reflection.

Trust.

Wisdom.

Understanding.

This time, I was the one who stared, motionless, quiet.

Things would change for the better on the earth if the human race could be more faithful, more reminiscent of God’s word, Icanya said. We will pray for you. She stood up and, as if on command, so did the group. Quietly I stared as they walked toward the door. Their slow pace and sad faces reminded me of a funeral march. One by one, they left the room through the door against the far wall.

Wait! I shouted, but the door closed behind them; then it disappeared. Right before my eyes, it disappeared. It simply melted back into the wall as if it had never existed. I ran over to the wall, my pulse thumping against the skin of my throat. I touched the wall with both hands trying to find the gaps, the magical opening. Nothing. The door was gone; completely gone.

I shook my head in disbelief. Listening intently while visually focused on the disappeared door, I moved backwards on tip toes, looking over my shoulder a couple of times but not seeing anyone, until I had reached the opposite wall. I sat down in slow motion leaning against the wall, folding my legs, my hands resting on my thighs. A chill ran down my spine and I became aware of my wet sweaty T-shirt. As I reminded myself to breathe, my pulse began to slow. The sun’s rays illuminated the room with a warm glow. Could last night’s muscle relaxant have affected my brain so badly?

I wiped my forehead and eyes with my flat hand, straightened my spine and sat up tall when suddenly there was another knock. My body jerked. My spine stiffened. Without moving a single muscle in my body, I scanned the room and held my breath as I saw a door appear on the near side of the room.

What on earth? I gasped. My throat still dry, my words sounded as though I was swearing more than asking a hypothetical question. The door opened wide and a group of children entered the room. I counted nine. I sat as though I was frozen in time, quietly scanning them with my eyes. They were cute. Just as the adults I had met a few minutes ago, they represented many cultures. I recognized a girl from India or Pakistan perhaps, a Caucasian girl, a South American boy, an Oriental girl, a black boy, an aborigine, a Native American boy and two girls of mixed blood. As if invited to participate in a tribal group session, they gathered and sat around me in a half circle. The oldest I guessed was about fourteen, the youngest around five.

Are you here to see someone? I asked.

Yes, you! they said and giggled. I squinted my eyes and shook my head. Rubbing my eyes with my fingers, I tested to see if I was awake. I even pinched my arm. It hurt.

We need your help, the Caucasian little girl said with a sad voice staring at me with her bright blue eyes.

What she means is, an older boy said, we came to see you because you can help us.

Yes,