Slaughter of the Saints

By B. H. Hamilton

Emma is stricken with guilt. She feels abandoned and alone in her dilemma. She is unable to find a solution that will satisfy her need to control. Emma is struggling to learn her every option, juggle her career, and stay on the road to success. She lives by the map she drew out for her life. Will she find her option, choose wisely, and get back on the proper road? Without a sincere guide, she may be lost or worse.
Have you wandered off your road? Maybe youve lost your map. Do you want to find an answer to your own dilemma? If you answer yes to any of these, then when you help Emma, you may very well help yourself as well. The straightest path to self-discovery is by walking in anothers shoes.
Step into Emmas shoes and join her quest for absolution. Help her find the right path back onto her lifes map. Venture out of your comfort zone now and walk with Emma in her search for what she is not looking for, faith.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jul 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9781449799281

B. H. Hamilton

Benny’s second book, The Walk of Life, an inspirational poetry collection, was a finalist in the USA Book News’ Best Book Awards in 2011. He lives in Frew, Kentucky, with his wife, Tracy. Benny has written seven children’s books, one poetry book, and one novel.

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Copyright © 2013 B. H. Hamilton.

Edited by: Anita Hamilton

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4497-9927-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-9926-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4497-9928-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013911503

WestBow Press rev. date: 06/28/2013

Table of Contents

Prologue

Quickening

Time Honored

The Unveiling

Dark Ages

Choices

The Path Well Trodden

An Unexpected Wait

The Challenge

Faith Untold

Justices Unveiled

The Old Law Renewed

Reign of Slaughter

Epilogue

Prologue

Many people condemn those who have abortions, consider abortion, or even talk about abortion. The words contained herein are not meant to condemn, accuse, or place blame or guilt on anyone that has had an abortion, thought of having an abortion, performed an abortion, or assisted anyone with an abortion. My wish is to open eyes to truth.

We have, as a society, placed great emotional burdens on those seeking an answer to what they perceive as an impossible personal situation. As the United States has developed toward what many see as an enlightened society, we have come to judge/condemn and ostracize those who do not conform to the collective thought processes. We are truly worse than we were some 200 years ago. We have slowly over the last seventy to eighty years moved from those considerations of our neighbors, friends and fellow countrymen, and countrywomen to a society of me and mine. As we have moved in this manner we’ve come to judge those around us in a much harsher and less compassionate light. This decadence has plagued every enlightened society over the last ten thousand years. Instead of providing loving support, compassion and empathy to young mothers seeking answers, young fathers who are unsure and scared, or women and girls who have been victims of rape and incest, we have shunned, condemned and pointed fingers. It is no wonder that forty five odd years ago these individuals began to seek a seemingly easier personal choice, to society’s imposed predicament that could be legally, privately and quietly undertaken.

Most on either side of this issue hate those on the other side, not just their position on the issue but the individual(s) on personal levels. This hate has led to the murders of doctors, nurses, and clinic staff as well as the burning of clinic buildings from one side. The other side has waged all out war on religious freedoms of individuals and placed their hate and unwarranted pious blame over many who hold no animosity toward them at all. The forces that drive both sides of the issue start from the same place, self-interest, self-righteousness, and pious thinking. Both sides know that they are right, but neither truly take into account the needs of those directly impacted by the issue, mothers, fathers, children and the very moral fabric of our society.

Until we begin to look at, and work toward fixing the collective thought processes and actions that lead to such decisions, hatred, and strife, we will never truly become enlightened. We must take an individual’s plight into consideration; we must develop empathy and truly come to love our neighbors even if we consider them to have many faults. We see nothing wrong in our own lives but see every tiny slip of all those around us. Jesus came to save not to judge, how then; can we in our pious, self-righteousness think that we have any authority to judge anyone? Why do we even want to? If a few peoples can begin to understand what drives us to such foolishness, then maybe we will be able to take the first baby step toward true enlightenment.

True enlightenment includes first recognition of failures, weaknesses, lies, and the beginnings of embracing truth no matter how much we fear the truth. Removal of our blinders will move us forward, not back into the Dark Ages. In the Dark Ages, we placed our faith in the learned men of the day. Science taught us that the world was flat; the earth was the center of the solar system, bleeding a patient was acceptable medicine; mice appeared spontaneously in boxes of dirty clothes and the masses believed it all without question. We believe science as blindly today. The lies of the Big Bang theory, and the theory of evolution we believe as blindly now as the ignorant did hundreds of years before us. These theories are no different than those of the Dark Ages, not proven by scientific fact. The difference is now we choose not to study these issues any further. No one wants to ask hard questions or explore the truth. Half truths are accepted as the final word just as by the masses in the dark ages. However, today there are no Christopher Columbuses, no Louise Pasteures, no Aristotles, no one willing to question the self proclaimed learned scientists.

We are now a world society, and we must start acting like one, or we will all perish. Until we come to understand that the needs of the whole do not out weigh the need of a single world citizen, we will never be enlightened. If we are all in the same ship in the ocean of life and two billion citizens decide they want to drill holes in the bottom and the rest do nothing then we all still drown. Do we just slaughter the two billion? Do we try to make them see what they do, and will they listen? Until we can find the answers to these type questions we are doomed. There will always exist in a world society those who perceive their actions to be right, just, and that which will further the good of everyone. It doesn’t mean they are right. Nor does it necessarily make those actions acceptable by everyone. Social, cultural, ethnic, religious, dialect, skin tone, hair color, eye color, speech impediments, we use any perceived difference as an excuse for fear, hatred and the slaughter of millions, as is easily documented throughout world history. It continues today whether anyone wants to believe it or not. I contend that we have learned nothing in the last 4,000 years!

Until we set aside all our foolish fears and learn to respect others’ differences of opinion and thought even though we may disagree we will never move forward, at best we may move sideways. Without mutual respect, even where we do not understand, we can never make any progress in a peaceful world society. With the abundance and scientific abilities of developed nations there exists no excuse for not assisting all citizens worldwide in the development of skills and technology to allow all peoples to meet their own basic needs of food, safe water, and sanitary living conditions. Each world citizen is valuable and has a great deal of wealth to offer a world society. We must all recognize this fact and strive to do something to move all of mankind forward, not backward or sideways.

Quickening

E MMA COULDN’T HOLD back the tears as she lay nailed to her mattress. They rolled out her eyes and into her ears. Worthless excuse for a human being, she thought. When she had first opened her eyes, hope blossomed. But reality withered it in an instant. This was no dream. Emma’s dilemma was not going away. How could I have been so reckless? Predictable people just don’t jump into quagmires willingly, do they? she thought.

No solution had presented itself last night. Emma feared to seek advice from her friends and hadn’t even told her mother. Terror gripped her in its relentless hand. The thought of her predicament reflected starkly in her tears.

The mattress finally released Emma, and she struggled up. She shuffled to the bathroom and stared vacantly into the mirror. Emma had boldly and foolishly stepped off the edge of her life’s map and became totally lost in an instant. She’d drawn her map long ago and burned it into her mind. Now she had no clue how to get back on the right road. Her situation wasn’t even penciled in the margin of her map. Emma strained to see a little light from the depths of her irresponsible act. Her heart nudged her, but she held tightly to the sink bowl of self-denial. The green eyes gazing despondently back at her looked unsure. The look was new to her.

A thousand butterflies fluttered in Emma’s stomach. The queasiness surged, and then ebbed. She stared despondently in disbelief at the test result. All her hopes had rested on it being negative. But her foreboding was confirmed. The letter said it all. It can’t be. It just can’t! she wailed. She’d traveled several miles to the doctor’s. The country clinic had been far enough away, she was certain, to keep nosy busybodies from talking.

Emma had never talked aloud to herself. Think, think, what now? She couldn’t get her mind to focus. Her self-imposed strictures demanded she explore every option, but Emma didn’t have an idea of where to begin.

If I don’t start thinking clearly, I’m never going to figure this out. The thought hit the wall of her shame and left her trembling. Emma ran the sink full of cold water and splashed her face and neck. The cold jarred her frail nerves but didn’t crack the wall. She took several deep breaths and felt light-headed. Emma sat on the bathroom floor, as tears rolled down her face and sobs wracked her body. She lost track of time. Her tears finally slowed, and Emma pulled herself up and tottered, clutching the sink to keep from falling.

Her head cleared slightly as she dried the last tear and went to the kitchen. She settled in a chair at the table and waited for the percolator to produce a cup of coffee. Emma was up, cup in hand. At last the hiss and sputter announced her coffee was ready.

Halfway through her first cup, the heat evaporated the last tendrils of thick fog that shrouded her mind. A little light trickled in. Emma grasped hold of one solution to her problem that she knew next to nothing about. There had to be other options. At the moment her mind couldn’t produce any, though. Emma was lost and didn’t know where to start.

At last a practical thought hit Emma. The library will be a good starting point. The resource section will have some good possibilities and might help me to get through the next few weeks.

It didn’t take her long to get ready. She donned brown slacks, a cream blouse, sandals, and a purse. Purpose took hold, and Emma fled out the door, pushed by the train of her determination. Only three blocks, and the walk will do me good. It might help clear my head, she thought. Emma’s control over her timorous emotions gradually tightened. A hint of a dirt road appeared on the blank map she’d jumped onto. It could lead her back to the life’s map that she depended on so much. Emma was determined to unravel the tangle of her problem.

Pregnant and alone, Emma’s mind wailed. The thought kept fear at the forefront of her troubles. Butterflies frantically beat their wings in nauseating flutters from her naval to her bladder. They threatened to empty her stomach.

People look down on unwed pregnant women. I’ve seen their faces too many times, old biddies with their gossiping tongues, men with their sneering thoughts. The judgmental hypocrites will condemn me if I let them. The thought drew Emma’s arms around her abdomen in a protective hug.

She took no notice of her surroundings. Chaos clouded Emma’s eyes until her feet found the library steps. The jar of her heels on the stairs ran up her legs and broke her trance. The steps were familiar, the library a friendly place. She had spent many hours among the books. Her mother introduced her to reading when she was six or seven, and the library had kept her enthralled ever since. Where have the years gone? She wondered. Time stood still. Emma saw herself skipping up the steps of her old library, holding her mother’s hand. The same rush of excitement came flooding back to her.

Shaking the memory, Emma ascended the steps. She knew where to start. Walking directly to the index file, she began her search. The seventh card caught her eye. Abortion: A Procedure by Doctor Sylvinn Versenn. She jotted down the information. Next, Adoption: A History by John Fieldsman met her hand. She kept digging, finding five more worth looking at. She pulled each book and carried them all to a secluded desk by a large window shadowed by an ancient elm.

Emma loved the smell of old books. A deep breath brought musty, old leather, paper, and ink smells, tantalizing her nose. The waft of mixing odors took her back sixteen years. A knot formed in her stomach, tightening into a noose around the butterflies. Emma’s gaze pierced the window. A faraway look flashed in her eyes. She swallowed once and started to shake again. Control, I must get control of myself, she thought.

A flash of brown by the window broke her despondency. A small sparrow landed, almost touching the window, on a limb of the hoary elm standing guard. It began to trill, its melody barely reaching her through the thick glass. Life still moved forward despite her quandary. A slight curl twitched the corner of her mouth. The smile didn’t blossom though and Emma returned to her task.

With the first book off the stack, Emma poured through its pages. A stolid determination focused her purpose and carried her, for a brief time, over the obstacles. Reading just the chapter titles and the first and last paragraphs of each book, she made mental notes on those she felt needed a more thorough review. She had already determined not to check any of the books out for fear someone would see and come to the correct conclusion. At this point, Emma could not and would not tell a soul. Her shame prevented her.

After a precursory review of each, Emma chose four of the volumes for further study. The first was a historical review of the origins of abortion and the procedure’s developments through the years. Didn’t know that, she spoke aloud. The Chinese were practicing abortion over five thousand years ago! She found nothing useful. The next book covered a variety of methods for inducing abortion. Emma discovered minuscule bits of information, some of which might be helpful. A couple more mental notes were added to her collection. Native Americans had knowledge of wild plants and herbs that were said to induce spontaneous abortion. But the book held nothing on the success rate or potential dangers of the plants. Emma wasn’t about to take some unknown herb that might kill her. The final two books she discarded as useless.

Emma yawned and stretched. She looked up at the clock and realized that she’d been at her task for over three hours. Gathering up the books, she put them back, not wanting to give anyone a hint as to what she was doing. Emma ripped up her notes and dropped them in the trash. She’d made an effort to memorize the titles. It would be a waste of time picking them up again.

Out the front and down the steps, Emma turned the corner, and a light went off. The payphone just a few steps ahead caught her attention. Her best friend would undoubtedly be able to distract her. Emma’s fingers dialed the number. The familiar voice further calmed Emma. Lunch was confirmed. She would have to hurry. Her stride was brisk as she went home and got ready for lunch.

Emma obdurately steeled her face. She practiced in the mirror until satisfied. Tracy was very perceptive and would easily see right through her mask if she wasn’t extremely careful. Emma used the five-minute walk to the restaurant to calm the tingling of her nerves. She walked slowly and purposefully. Emma willed herself to relax basking in the warmth of the sun. The smiles of those whom she passed and the pleasant welcoming doorways helped to calm her even more. Turmoil still threatened just below the surface of her resolve, but Emma managed to keep it at bay. A time and place for everything, she thought.

This was definitely a good time for a distraction. She needed a humorous diversion. Her practiced smile adorned her face. Emma opened the door and entered the small, familiar shop. Tracy wasn’t there, so she stepped back outside, taking in the fresh air once more. She took a step or two down the block toward Tracy’s apartment.

Emma spied Tracy as she turned the corner. Quickly swallowing the knot that tried to rise again in her throat, Emma turned back and took a couple minutes to adjust her best smile.

Emma, she heard Tracy say.

She turned, holding her smile. Hi, Tracy, how are you?

I’m good, and you? Tracy replied as they walked toward the restaurant.

I’m fine, she hastily responded. Isn’t the air refreshing? Emma asked.

Yes, it is, and so many birds are singing. You’d almost think it was spring.

They reached the restaurant door, and Emma held it. Tracy stepped inside. Emma hesitated as angst washed across her eyes. Something about the place extracted a horrid memory. Emma entered and studied the oak floor’s many knots, the faded hardwood walls and the ancient bar to her left. It was made of some forgotten wood with various markings, dents, and scrapes. Photos from the 20’s and 30’s lined the walls and added to Emma’s déjà vu moment.

The hostess guided them past the end of the bar and around several full tables. She asked, as they walked, Would you care to dine on the patio today? It is very nice out?

Yes that sounds good, Emma replied.

It’s too warm to be inside on such a lovely day, Tracy added.

They took seats to the right just by the door. The sun warmed their hands and arms but didn’t dazzle their eyes.

Your waiter will be with you in a moment. What would you like to drink?

I will take a cherry Cola, Emma replied.

An ice tea with lemon, for me, Tracy added.

Emma marveled at the old tree towering toward the sunlight in the middle of the courtyard. It looked out of place, as if it had sprang from the stones of the floor. The silvery brown bark climbed heavenward between the cracked and faded brick walls. It was taller than the building across the courtyard and undoubtedly had been there for ages.

So what’s new? Tracy asked. Emma had to clear her mind of her admiration of the tree before she could reply.

She smiled and said with a slightly nervous laugh, Not much. I spent most of the morning in the library. The words brought trepidation. Emma’s heart began to pound. She knew any minute Tracy would ask what she had been doing in the library all morning. As emotions washed through her, Emma lowered her eyes. I have to be more careful, she thought. This is not easy.

Emma’s fear went unrealized as Tracy said, You’re going to turn into a book one of these days. You spend so much time in the place you might as well be on the payroll. If you had devoted half that time to the right career you would be rich by now. Tracy laughed.

I know, I know, but where would I be without books?

In the real world and not in some fantasy every week, Tracy quipped.

Oh, don’t be silly. You know full well that I absolutely can’t function in the real world, Emma replied.

They both laughed. The banter was refreshing and left Emma’s raw nerves feeling soothed.

Their waiter arrived with their drinks, and placed them carefully on the table. May I take your orders? he asked.

He is cute, Emma thought. His dark hair and light blue eyes were striking. She winked at Tracy.

Tracy quickly picked up on the cue. She started to banter with him. Your first day?

Yes, he replied with a smile.

I knew it. I haven’t seen you before, new to the neighborhood as well?

Yes, just moved from Indiana.

Welcome to the city then, Mr. Indiana, she said with a laugh.

Thank you.

I’ll have the lunch special. What about you Emma? Tracy asked. She nudged Emma with a toe to get her attention.

I’ll take the same, she replied.

Emma glanced at his behind as he walked away, nudging Tracy again and nodding.

Tracy couldn’t help it. She laughed out-loud. Her outburst embarrassed Emma.

What have you been up to besides the library, Emma? asked Tracy. Her question helped ease Emma’s embarrassment and the crimson receded from her face.

Oh, you know the usual, laughed Emma. I loafed most of the morning. What about you, how was your week?

So, so, working my way up the corporate highchair.

You mean ladder? asked Emma.

You’ve got to be kidding. As many times as you’ve been in my office building, do you honestly think there is anything more than a highchair in that place? laughed Tracy.

Their conversation was just the distraction that Emma had needed. It felt good to get her mind off of her troubles. The time passed too quickly though. After lunch a cloud dimmed the sunshine, and the feeling of aloneness crept back over Emma. A glance at Tracy idly chatting away pushed the feeling aside.

Call me tonight, Tracy said, as they parted.

OK, is eight, all right?

Yes.

Emma stretched. The fullness in her tummy gave her a warm drowsy feeling. She wasn’t ready to go home. Some window shopping might do me some good, she thought. The sunshine on the other side of the street was inviting and drew Emma over. The warmth on the side of her face was comforting. She paused occasionally as one item after another caught her eye. A baby stroller, a highchair and newborn’s clothing, each made Emma think, funny how I never noticed any of these before. Emma walked on taking note of everything around her.

Her thoughts wandered. Emma walked much further than she ever had before. The faded brick buildings leaned over her. Emma realized she’d stumbled onto a group of shops that must have been there since the 1800s. The key stones above the doors confirmed her impression, each held an imbedded date. Emma looked through one of the hazy window panes. An aged gentleman with gray hair stood at the window his hands behind his back. His glasses were balanced unevenly on the very end of his somewhat bulbous nose. He would have been most intimidating except for the twinkling smile in his eyes.

He stepped from the window and opened his door. Come in, miss, he invited. He held the door for her.

Thank you sir, she replied. Emma stepped inside. Not really knowing why, just drawn forward, Emma’s curiosity got the better of her. The little shop was jam from floor to ceiling with books. The haphazard array captivated Emma. How have I missed this place, so close to home? she thought. Making her way down one row of books and back she got lost among the titles.

Time stopped. The smell was even better than the library’s. The ancient wood floors spoke whispers of unexplored worlds. Each step opened a new discovery. A sense of contentment settled over Emma. She knew she should leave, but couldn’t get her feet to cooperate.

Emma expected dust and cobwebs to blanket crevasses and corners, but saw none. An ancient mechanical cash register took up half the counter. The old man was balanced there on a tottering three-legged stool.

Are you looking for anything specific? He asked.

No, thank you though; I was just enjoying the ambiance. I have to be going now. Good day, she said. Emma’s feet seemed heavy as she made her way to the door. She turned taking another look, as if to burn the image in her mind. She opened the door and took a step.

Come again soon, she heard him reply. The door snapped shut like a cut chord.

Emma’s walk home was a blur. Her thoughts returned to her dilemma. None of the few choices she’d learned about during the morning were what she wanted. But one of them might still end up as her best choice.

She inserted the key and the familiar screech-click jarred loudly. Her apartment was not as tidy usual. In fact it was in complete disarray. The chaos was a mirror of her thoughts. Clothes were scattered from couch to bathroom, the sink and mirror smudged with toothpaste and the bed looked like the aftermath of a professional wrestling match. Many of her actions these past few days had been out of character. Emma sat on the edge of the bed. A lone tear rolled slowly down her cheek. Shame squeezed her chest.

This will not do, she thought. Emma’s self-discipline kicked into overdrive. She gathered her clothes, deposited them in the hamper and turned to the disaster of the bed. The remaining chores kept her busy. Her thoughts, however, continued to rage between shame and terror of her monumental predicament.

Time clacked along like scenes from a train window. Her mind was full of noisy disruptions. Eight o’clock came quickly. She was not yet ready to face another conversation with Tracy. Her nerves were too frayed. Emma’s mind was as muddied as yesterday’s rain filled puddle. Nothing could take back her mistake. She let the clock tick fifteen minutes past eight. If she didn’t call soon Tracy would be calling her. She picked up the receiver and cradled it in her lap. Emma dialed Tracy’s number. She took a long pause after each digit. Only one ring and Tracy picked up.

Well, it’s about time, Tracy complained jokingly.

I know, got busy and let the time get away from me, Emma lied. She bit her lip at the words. Not a good start to a conversation with your best friend, she thought.

What did you do all afternoon?

That jarred her. The ancient bookstore flashed through Emma’s mind. The old man’s smiling eyes wavered before her again. Emma smiled as relief washed through her. She’d found something new and critically important to share with Tracy.

You won’t believe what I found so close to the apartment this afternoon! You just have to go back with me.

Well! Quit stalling and tell me, Tracy replied.

After I left you I intended to go straight home. But I thought a little window-shopping might make the day pass more quickly. I crossed over the street, just to stay in the sun. I walked farther than I ever had. I discovered a couple dozen old shops.

You’re skipping over the important stuff, Tracy chided. What kind of shops, how many, and what are they like?

You haven’t changed a bit, Emma laughed. If you would be more patient, I was getting to that.

I’m waiting, laughed Tracy.

They were all so old. Most were built in the 1800’s. They looked it too. Brick out of the civil war era, wood framed windows as big as doors and 12 foot ceilings, you know the type.

You are still wasting breath. So what was inside? What kind of goodies were they selling? You know me. I just want to hear about the deals and steals, replied Tracy.

I only went in one. But I remember a little about most of the others. I was window shopping mostly. Two were clothing stores looked like little old lady stuff right out of the 40’s. Beside them were a couple of men’s stores from about the same era. A music shop was next, it looked somewhat promising, but I didn’t go in. Then a bookstore caught my eye. It was the only one that I ventured into. Something about it, I can’t explain. It drew me in.

Any bargains? Tracy asked.

If you’ll be patient I will tell you the rest.

I’ll try, replied Tracy.

A most unusual old gentleman opened the door for me. He would have been most frightening except for the twinkle in his eyes. He looked to be about as old as his store. His hair was snow white. He had a round nose with hair to match his head, but with the lightest blue and kindest eyes. There were row upon row of books. The shelves were standing floor to ceiling on all the walls even behind the counter. All of them appeared reasonably priced. Some I would consider steals, especially with my bookworm mentality.

I know you like to read more than I do, chided Tracy. But you do have my curiosity up.

Very well, where was I? Emma sighed. Something about that old store felt familiar. It kept tugging at me to stay, and now I feel an urge to go back. You will go back with me?

Yes, just tell me the day and time and I will be there. We can spend half a day if you would like.

Thanks Tracy, I would appreciate that. The rest of my day was normal. I came home, straightened up a bit, and then relaxed, Emma said. What about you, how was your afternoon?

You know the same old stuff, laughed Tracy.

You don’t have any new or exciting news to tell, or even some juicy tid-bit?

Well, we do have a new mailroom clerk. Apparently he has been working for a few weeks, but just started delivering mail this week.

Did you get his name? Emma asked.

Of course, it is Chuck.

Chuck? Charles I would guess. He must be young or green still going by Chuck.

No, I don’t think so, although I didn’t really ask his age. He did look to be about our age. Not over two years younger at most, giggled Tracy.

Now you sound like a high-schooler. He must have been awfully cute. Emma responded.

Yes, I think I’m in love.

Now you are being silly, Tracy.

Why not, I’m serious most of the time. Need to break out of the mold every now and then. What better way than to fly off on some wild fantasy? Wouldn’t you say? Tracy asked.

Tell me about him.

Around six feet, black hair, brown eyes, that’s about it, laughed Tracy.

Sounds like enough for you anyway, you better be careful or Mr. Mail Clerk may just deliver you somewhere you don’t want to go.

Yea, yea, Emma, that sounds just like your usual advice. I believe you must be allergic to adventure, responded Tracy.

Since you don’t seem to be listening to good advice, I will be going now. Remember you’re supposed to listen to your elders. Have a great evening, and I’ll talk with you later.

"If you want to get rid