Translations of the Divine

By Justin Fulkerson

Twenty-eight years after the events of Text of the Unforgiven, the reincarnated souls of Kyle and Qaton are awakened once again to battle against evil. Along with Josan and April, they realize that nothing is what it appears and everything is at stake. The wizard Manjin is set upon destroying reality itself, causing The Tempter to join forces with Qaton to end his reign.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Rooster and The Pig Publishing
• Release date: Apr 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311481177

Justin Fulkerson

Author of An Hour for Magic, Justin Fulkerson’s literary tastes turned from science fiction (Isaac Asimov) to horror (Stephen king, of course) at the innocent age of twelve years old. His outlook on life was forever changed by the experience and his mind suffered the consequences. The creatures and scenarios running through his imagination forced him to begin his first novels while still in high school.  Twenty years later, An Hour for Magic arrived, consuming his every thought until the first 500 pages were transferred to paper. The next two in the series, Hollow be thy Name and An Hour for Maggie completed the tale. Finally, Hallowed Ground took Justin's mind into the realm of Zombie fiction. With several more novels in the works, Justin hopes that the world can survive long enough to enjoy the fruits of his imagination.

Book preview

Text of the Unforgiven Part II

Translations of the Divine

PROLOGUE

REMEMBERING

Some memories are realities, and are better than

anything that can ever happen to one again

-Willa Cather, My Antonia

Doctor:

Katherine, I’m going to count backward from ten to one. When I reach one, I want Kyle to take me to the last day you remember, the day in the garden. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. Now, where are you, Kyle?

Kath D:

(sighs) I’m deep inside April. She feels so good. We are making love. She’s so beautiful. It feels so right.

Doctor:

Where is this taking place? Where are you?

Kath D:

In the garden of the green goddess.

Doctor:

The green goddess? Who is that?

Kath D:

Tara. (phonetic)

Doctor:

Does she know you are there? The goddess?

Kath D:

She’s all around us, guiding us.

Doctor:

Where is this garden?

Kath D:

We don’t know for sure. In another reality. Separate from this one.

Doctor:

I want you to go past the lovemaking. What happens next?

Kath D:

We’re lying in the tall grass together. Her head is in my lap. (The patient giggles to herself) I can feel her breath against me. We’re both so happy.

Doctor:

Because of what? The lovemaking?

Kath D:

Yes, and (pauses) because of our son.

Doctor:

She is pregnant?

Kath D:

Yes, but there’s more to it than that.

Doctor:

What are you referring to?

Kath D:

She is carrying the next Messiah within her. The savior. She asks me what I would name him.

Doctor:

And you say?

Kath D:

I’m afraid she’ll think it’s silly. But she wants to hear it anyway. I want to name him Zarek (phoenetic). It means ‘May God Protect the King’

Doctor’s note: At this point, the patient begins to shake her head violently, almost seems to be in a seizure-like state.

Doctor:

What’s happening?

Kath D:

We’re running through the garden, laughing. Then… she’s… she’s gone! Where is she? Where? (Sobbing)

Doctor:

When I snap my fingers, I want you to take on the role of observer. Free yourself from any emotional attachment to the scene before you. Let it become a movie. What happens next?

Kath D:

He shows up again, that bastard! It’s all his fault.

Doctor:

Qaton? (phonetic) That’s who you’re talking about, isn’t it?

Kath D:

Yeah… The shaman. He doesn’t care anymore.

–Transcript of Session 12 Hypnotic Regression of Katherine Davis. The patient claims to have lived a past life as Kyle Davenport, a child who disappeared twenty-nine years (to the day) before her own birth.

CHAPTER 1

ALAHAS - 1822

Good memories are lost jewels.

-Paul Valéry, Mauvaises Pensées

James Ballinger was a simple man with a simple life but these times were the toughest he’d ever seen. The winter of 1822 had been harsh to say the least. His wife, Amelia, had been lost in the throes of sickness for the past month or more. She and their twins - precious gifts from the Lord – were all that maintained his will to live these days.

It might have been in the middle of nowhere, but the dugout was still their home. Flatlands surrounded them as far as the eye could see and that was fine with him. It served its purpose. A small creek nearby supplied their fresh water. He had tried desperately to farm this area, but success eluded him. He thought himself a failure in every aspect of his life -- except for his children.

Joseph and Mary, both eight years old and adorable, were his main reason for living. They were the mirror images of their Biblical counterparts -- angels in the truest sense of the word. They showed respect and want nothing but the approval of their parents.

Joseph tried to help his father around the farm as best he could as a child and James tried not to push his son too hard. But the boy was tough, pushing himself to exhaustion. Mary was the same. Her time over the past few weeks had been spent caring for her ailing mother who was lost in the delirium of fever. A fever that now raged out of control. Within days, she was so weak that James was afraid to move her. He knew she needed a doctor badly but he also knew that the trip alone might kill her.

From their doorstep, he could see the town on the horizon. It would be a long trip, especially for her to be jostled in the back of the wagon. He decided to give it a few more days. Perhaps, the fever would break. Those 'days' became 'weeks' as he tried to make a living for his family. James didn’t even know who the doctor was or how to find him. He’d never needed a physician before, but he finally realized that if he did not go, his wife would surely die.

James awoke the morning that he had planned to leave to the horrible sound of screams from outside. He had leaped from bed, his heart pounding in his throat as he dashed up the stairs and outside.

As his eyes adjusted to the harsh morning light, he saw Joseph and Mary both sprawled across the dirt close to the shed he had built so many years before. This was where he kept the plow and sundry other tools. His two children cried and ran to their father, throwing their arms around him.

What’s happened? James asked frantically. He was still in his long johns but wide-awake. Mary? Joseph?

We… we… we… we got… Joseph struggled to find the right words for their situation. James turned to Mary.

We got up early to start our chores, Papa. We wanted to finish early so we could go into town for you. So you could stay with Mama. Mary burst into fresh tears.

Then it… It jumped from the shed and grabbed us both, Joseph stammered.

What was it? What grabbed you?

The Boogeyman, Daddy! The Boogeyman! The one Mama talked about.

The what? James’s head was reeling with fury. I don’t have time for this foolishness, with your mama ill like she is.

He was in there, Papa, Mary cried. He was!

James, clearly angry with this childishness, stormed to the shed. The children tried to hold him back, but he pulled away from them.

Where’s he now then? Huh? He felt confused as if his mind couldn’t register the possibility that what they were saying might be true. Angrily, he threw open the shed door and stepped inside. Where’d he go?

Look, Papa. Look! Mary lifted the hem of her skirt to reveal four long scratches down the length of her calf.

James backhanded Joseph across the mouth. Mary screamed as her brother went to the ground, bleeding heavily from the blow.

What are you doing? Mary screamed. Papa?

You shut your mouth, Mary. I’ve had enough lies from you two this morning.

Joseph stood, wiping the blood from his mouth. We’re not lying.

Open your mouth again and you will regret ever being born. James’s eyes flared in anger. How dare you lay a hand upon your sister?

But it wasn’t me! Joseph protested.

It wasn’t him, Papa! Mary exclaimed, and James turned to her.

And how dare you lie for him. He turned back to Joseph. How could you force yourself upon your own sister, your own flesh and blood?

Both the children fell silent. They knew it would matter little what they. James took a deep breath and wiped sweat from his brow. What’s gotten into you two?

The shock and pain in their eyes was apparent. Their silent glares hurt his heart. They had never given him reason not to trust them. But now, their eyes said they had reason not to trust him. I’m going to get your mother a doctor. We’ll talk more about this when I get home. He grabbed Joseph by the shoulder. You lay another hand upon your sister and I’ll kill you myself, understand? he growled into the child’s face. The fear in Joseph’s eyes was answer enough.

James left his children alone for the last time as he headed into town an hour later.

He arrived in town and discovered that the doctor, William Haverty, was out delivering a baby and not due to return until the next morning. His secretary conveyed this message to him when he entered the office, not bothering with introductions. James thanked her and left the office.

He stood on the boardwalk, surveyed the township, and thought about how he loved his wife more than anything in the world. Then, he caught sight of something in a high window across the street. Standing among the open curtains was an Oriental woman, unclothed. She waved to him and then squeezed her breasts together. James felt something he hadn’t in a long time: lust. Amelia was a loving wife and tended to his physical yearnings as best she could but having her out of commission for so long he hadn’t even thought about sex. As the woman on the balcony beckoned to him, James crossed the street.

Room 207! she called to him in her thick Oriental accent as he approached. He looked up at her taut body in awe. It worth price.

James felt for the money from his savings in his left pocket and decided that this wouldn’t hurt anything. How would his wife know? It wasn't like she ever visited town, let alone entered cathouses.

As he entered the Royal Flush Saloon, James noticed that no patron turned to look at him. As he walked through the place, he was invisible, just another nameless face in the saloon. He made his way up the stairs in a trance. Thoughts of his wife and children and his wife clouded his mind as he knocked on the door to the whore’s room.

She opened the door and instantly, he was spellbound, all thoughts of his family gone. She was not the least bit ashamed to be standing bare before him. In fact, she seemed more than willing to flaunt her assets.

Come on in, sodbuster. She grinned, touching herself provocatively. Discount rates for farmers earning an honest living.

James buried whatever guilt he might have normally felt in the back of his mind. This was his last night alone and he would make the most of it. Amelia was the only woman he had ever lain with and seeing this fresh woman before him was intoxicating. He studied every detail of her nakedness -- watched her nipples harden as she squeezed them between her fingers, enticing him.

His reluctance faded as he made eye contact with her. He longed to unlock the secrets her body possessed. There were new places that her flesh could take him. Places away from all the pain and discomfort he had borne these last few weeks. Places of comfort and pleasure.

He entered the room, entranced by her. There was only one part of her hidden from his view, a darkened place below the tuft of hair between her alabaster thighs. As she lay down on the soiled bedcovers, it was revealed; its pleasures offered to him. He did what had to be done.

She did things that Amelia had never done before, including finishing him off with her mouth. When their tryst wound down, she offered him a homemade cigar. He had never seen one like it. It was filled with heavily-scented leaves. The whore assured him it was like no other cigar he had ever smoked. She said she got it from the local doctor who called it 'hemp.' He knew a lot about plants and medicines, she claimed. James’s curiosity got the better of him and he lit it with her encouragement. James filled himself with the cloud of mind-altering smoke and let it carry him away.

He realized that he still did not know her name. She sat across from him, grinning and squinty-eyed. He felt his heart leap in his chest for her.

Hey, what’s your name? James asked, feeling his speech slur.

Alahas sa Pilipinas. She smiled at him.

Alaga? James asked in a haze.

No, silly man. Alaga is a pet. She took another puff of the cigar. Alahas.

Alahas, James repeated. Does it mean something? You know, in English.

Alahas means Jewel. I am Jewel of the Philippines. She leaned forward and touched him. I’m looking for my alahero.

Alahero?

My repairer. I’m broken. Will you fix me? she asked, stroking him softly.

He was aroused again in short order and made love several more times during the remainder of the day with Jewel. She was so impressed with his vigilance that, after hours of having him inside of her, she told him there was no charge.

It was a relief for her to meet a man who wasn’t in a hurry to leave her wet and dirty. She enjoyed spending the afternoon with him instead of sweaty cowpokes and gunslingers. Most of them tried to hurt her in one way or another. James seemed to enjoy every motion in their performance, taking his time to revel in every sensation. Being intoxicated by the cigar helped him concentrate on her pleasure. Something, it seemed, no one had ever done for her.

Her wide eyes took on an innocence that he could have fallen in love with years ago, before Amelia. When his thoughts returned to his family, he burst into tears in Jewel’s arms. The effect of the cigar seemed to heighten his sense of guilt. He cried for what seemed like hours in her loving arms. She knew what was going on inside of him, and that was frightening in itself.

She slept in his strong arms that night and awoke refreshed the next morning to his kisses upon her neck. After entering her one last time, he told her it was time for him to go.

Jewel wished him well. She had developed feelings for him in the short time they’d spent together, but she knew he had other responsibilities. She didn’t need him to tell her that he had come to town for them, his family. She knew it deep in her heart. It had something to do with their well-being because she had hailed him leaving the doctor’s office. Still, silly as it was, she didn’t want him to be married. This was the first time she had developed feelings for one of her customers. However, she did the right thing and watched him leave the room somberly.

She went to the window, wiping away the tears that threatened to stream from under her eyelids. He had a woman, probably a good woman as a matter of fact, but Jewel hated that she herself was nothing to him. Then again, was that so? She saw him look back up to her window and wave. She blew him a kiss and backed away from the window to sit on the bed. She lost herself in the tears that she had tried so desperately to hold back.

Whoring for the last four years had been a nightmare for her, and now, meeting a good man like James broke her heart even more. She peeked out the window and caught a brief glimpse of him as he entered the doctor’s office again.

It was early yet. The doctor had not even arrived. The secretary, who neglected to offer her name once again, sat behind the ramshackle desk, and stared at him. She shuffled through a pile of handbills, looking for something.

What is the problem anyway, sir? Why do you require Doctor Haverty?

My wife is dying, James said bluntly.

The smug secretary was about to respond when the door opened and Doctor Haverty entered the office.

Doctor, this gentleman needs you. It seems that his wife is sick, the secretary blurted out as soon as the door closed.

She’s dying, James said to her again. Did you not catch that part?

Doctor Haverty seemed to be hung-over from a rough night of drinking himself to sleep. His bloodshot eyes locked on James. Is that so?

She’s dying, sir.

Well, I’ll be the judge of that, young man.

She’s been burning up for several weeks. The Fever.

Doctor Haverty replaced the hat he had just removed from his head. Take me to her.

They exited the office and mounted James’s wagon, parked outside. James chanced another glance up at Jewel’s room. She was at the window again. He nodded to her as the doctor took his seat beside James. She blew him a silent kiss. The doc caught his glance and cleared his throat for James’s impropriety.

Their trip took a few hours. Doctor Haverty filled the time with tales of his practice as a doctor over the last several years, tales of pregnancies, births, afflictions, and death. James pretty much stayed silent, wrapped up in the memories he had shared with Jewel. His mind even considered the possibility that Amelia was already dead and that he might be able to convince Jewel to take on her responsibility in the family. It was a horrible thought, but he had to think about the children’s future. What would become of them without a mother?

He knew there had been something more between them than just physical desire. Jewel’s soul had touched his and his hers. There was no denying the effect those hours had had upon them both.

Doctor Haverty rambled on until they were minutes away from the dugout. The only structure breaking the landscape was the shed. Its shadowed substance painted an eerie picture upon the horizon.

A horrible smell overwhelmed them both as they dismounted the wagon. The smell of decay issued forth from the dugout. James ran to the underground structure and dashed inside.

There, upon the small cot he had built for her in the corner, was Amelia. But she was not as he had left her. There was something different about her appearance. James's mind tried to deny the horror before him. Amelia’s body had been ravaged by what he could only recognize as a beast of some sort. A coyote or cougar were the only two creatures to come to mind. He collapsed to his knees and a pathetic moan escaped him.

Doctor Haverty entered close behind him and stifled a scream when he witnessed the carnage that had once been James’s wife.

What’s going on? Doctor Haverty demanded. She’s been mutilated.

What could have done this? James cried.

Where are your children?

James’s heart churned with panic. He stared at the doctor, trying to deny the facts that ran through his mind. Where could they be? What had happened in all the hours he was absent?

As he exited the dugout, scrambling up the earthen stairs, he saw the truth laid out for him upon the ground. Time slowed to a drag as realization washed over him.

A trail of drying blood led to the shed -- the same shed where his children had pleaded with him to believe their insane story about a boogeyman. The shed where they had sworn a monster had seized them both and where he had called them liars, scolding them for their untruths.

He followed the trail and gasped as it ended at a huge splatter on the door of the shed. Doctor Haverty held himself back from the scene, following at a slower pace.

James heard a sound from within -- a guttural, gasping sound seeping from between the loose boards. Each gasp ended with a wet slap of flesh against flesh.

I wouldn’t do that, Mister Ballinger. I’d wait on the sheriff to come. As a matter of fact, let’s ride back and get him now, the doctor advised. James ignored the older man. Who wouldn’t have in a situation like this? James watched his own hand float slowly across the distance between himself and the blood-stained door. The slapping noise intensified; the gasps quickened. James pulled the door open and stood in horrified wonder at the scene laid out before him.

Kneeling inside of the shed was a monstrosity -- a naked freak with matted hair -- raping the lifeless remains of his daughter. The monster turned towards him, balls pumping some sort of cursed fluid into his daughter’s corpse. It moaned, its eyes fluttered open to reveal plus-shaped irises. Lost in the throes of orgasm, the monster took a moment to react to being discovered as it relished the last few ejaculations. Then it hissed as it lunged for him. James sidestepped and screamed when the creature disappeared into the door he had just pulled open.

James turned quickly to the doctor. Did you fucking see that? he demanded.

See what? Doctor Haverty, about to begin another sentence, saw the slew of gore inside of the shed. Joseph’s corpse was ripped from sternum to groin and all of his insides had been torn out. He was propped against the plow James had just finished sharpening for this season’s sowing. So much blood had been spilled in the small space that the inside of the shed was completely red. Mary’s dead, naked form was curled up on the floor, her genitals ripped to a grotesque point. They would never be able to heal the scars placed upon them because of the death caused by their wounds.

Upon further examination, it was later determined that both of the children had been raped repeatedly and fed upon by whatever deprived soul killed them. But that examination would be hours in the coming, happening only after Doctor Haverty regained his composure and James Ballinger was in custody for murdering his family.

For now, the doctor rounded the door and witnessed the slaughter within. He instantly ran the opposite direction and threw himself on the ground, sick. He threw up several times on the unforgiving soil that James had tried to farm for so many years.

James fell to his knees, an inhuman scream of despair escaping him.

****

It had been a slow year in Morganstown. Sheriff Lloyd, whose real name was Terrence Lloyd, was thankful for that. He had lived in the area for ten years and was well-respected by the locals. The most trouble they ever had was young men thinking they were gun-slinging outlaws of one sort or another. Otherwise, it was a peaceful town. Terrence had lost his wife to a brief but violent cough shortly before deciding to run for the office of Sheriff. Doc Haverty had tried several medicines in an attempt to cure her. They didn’t help, but he and the doctor became fast friends after that. Terrence would always be thankful to the doctor for the pains he went through trying to help them.

However, after years of friendship, Doc Haverty had placed something before him now that he would curse the good doctor for until his dying day. He studied his own notes and the doc’s statement about what had allegedly happened. Across from him, James Ballinger sat with his hands dangling between his knees, staring off into space. He was a lost man now, silent since his arrest.

The biggest problem for Terrence was what to do with the fellow. Doc Haverty told him in private that he thought the man suffered from a malady of the brain, an imbalance of fluids that drove him to slaughter his family without even realizing that he had done it. Several witnesses made statements that they had seen him in the saloon the afternoon before he had taken the doc out to his place.

After his own rendezvous with Jewel, Terrence had questioned her about James. Naked, she had cried for several minutes as she tried to recall James’s mood or demeanor. She even went far enough to tell him that she thought he was a good man. The sheriff could tell she was uncomfortable discussing the situation with him after they had just had their own roll in the sack. He thanked her and returned to his office, to think.

He was now watching James Ballinger who seemed totally disconnected from the scene. There was no physical evidence that the man had committed the crime. But he could not get the man to talk. If James would just tell him something -- anything -- he would listen. All he needed from James was a story. Every criminal always had some sort of story worked out to explain his actions. But James maintained his stupefied silence.

Terrence knew there was a sanitarium fifty miles south of town in Springsville. He had heard stories about the horrors behind those bulky walls -- stories of abominable madness, of people pushed to the limits of human comprehension, and other things that Terrence would rather not think about. He would rather not have this man’s fate, if he ended up there, on his conscience.

There had to be something to bring the life back into this man, something to make him tell his story. He only had a few days until the judge returned to town and he would want to know what the man was to be charged with. The judge would want to see what evidence he was holding the man with. That judge was Judge Poole.

Judge Poole did not play around when it came to the law but he did have a taste for younger women. Every time he arrived in town, he would return to his normal room at the hotel with a new young woman or two. All his spare time between trials and hearings was spent in that room with loose women. No one left the room for more than a breath of fresh air. Drinks and food were delivered to the room throughout their stay. The only sounds from the room were the banging of the headboard against the wall and cries of joy from the occupants.

Sometimes, Terrence envied Judge Poole. The sheriff thought about how nice it must be to travel from town to town with different women. He once asked Judge Poole about his lifestyle. They were…

…both sitting in Terrence’s cramped office after a trial that had run late into the evening. Poole carried a flask of whiskey everywhere he went, and he poured them both a shot as they discussed the outcome of the trial.

When Poole was getting ready to return to his room and his woman for the night, Terrence asked him about the different women he always