The Line

By Jim Kohler and Amanda Kohler

Will is a well-grounded 20 year old peasant who longs for something more in a world dominated by fear. Bordering his family's field is a magical line that so sweetly calls for people. "Once crossed, though," Will is told, "you will vanish forever." 

Back on his eleventh birthday, Will sees the Line for the first time while on a special trip with his Pa. Entranced by its whisper, he feels himself being drawn across, stopped only seconds before by an injury to his foot. He finds himself lying on the muddy ground watching for his would-have-been fate as a small bird flies toward the Line.

Ever since that day, Will despairs whenever he hears someone else was taken by the Line. As more and more people cross, Will seeks answers to this still devastating mystery of his life: What would have happened to him had he crossed and is happening now to those who do? The truth, revealed through a most unforeseen event, provides closure that is painful yet fulfilling.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sowing Ministry Press
• Release date: Apr 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386556756

Book preview

1

The line woke me again .

William. Come to me and be free.

Some thought that it called to everyone, but most could not hear its call. They were the lucky ones.

We worked six days a week, so Sunday was a welcome day off, even if the entire morning was spent in church.

It was Monday.

Jonathan, the youngest of my three younger brothers, sat up in bed. What’s that smell? He sniffed the air again. His scrap quilt flew into the air and his feet hit the cold plank floor as he stood. I smell something.

My straw filled mattress crunched as I rolled over toward him, wiping the sleep from my eyes. Ma’s cooking bacon.

Frederick, the second oldest, sat up straight in his bed. Bacon! What’s the special occasion? He was on his feet and headed for the door.

Ma, you cookin bacon? Jonathan followed him out.

The bacon smelled good, but I wasn’t ready to face the day in our field yet. Monday was my day to work in our field and the rest of the week I served the nobility in town.

The clank of plates hitting the plank table rang through the bedroom. Frederick was loud at everything he did.

Leonard, my other brother, rolled over in his bed and pulled his quilt over his head.

The smell of the bacon drew me up to sit in my bed. We always had enough food, but bacon was a rare treat.

Ma popped her head through the doorway. Breakfast’s almost done. Her voice was sweet and gentle.

Come on boys, let’s eat! Pa’s voice was the opposite of Ma’s.

The bench at the table screeched against the floor. All us boys sat on the bench on one side of the table, and Ma and Pa sat in wooden chairs on the other side.

I pushed myself out of bed and on the way through gave Leonard a light shove with my foot. If our house was on fire, it could burn down around him and he wouldn’t wake up.

He pulled the quilt down to his neck and looked up at me through squinted eyes, looked up at the window with the sun’s first beams of light streaming through, and then rolled away from me while pulling his quilt back over his head. No. Too early.

My back stretched as I leaned over to him. Pa already called.

Junk. He rolled onto his back and looked at the ceiling as if to contemplate if disobeying Pa was worth the five extra minutes of sleep he may get. Common sense won out and he sat up. Morning’s too early.

I chuckled. Go to bed earlier and you would feel better in the morning.

He shrugged and pulled himself out of bed.

I dragged myself out to the room that served as the kitchen, dining room and living area.

The table was right in front of me, with Pa, Jonathan, and Frederick already sitting there waiting. Behind him Ma was working feverishly at the white cast iron cook stove, trying to get everyone’s breakfast down on the table at the same time so it would be nice and hot when we ate.

Just beyond the stove was the front door, which was propped open to try to let some of the heat from the stove out because it was late spring. The door was made of scrap wood planks Pa had brought home from the sawmill where he worked when not in the fields.

On the far wall was the fireplace, and above it a mantle with some books that we rarely read, and a box of checkers, one of the family’s favorite pastimes. The fireplace was only used during the coldest months because Ma’s stove put out plenty of heat for all but the coldest times of year.

To the left of the fireplace was the door to Ma and Pa’s room. The hinge on the door had broken years ago, so the door wouldn’t shut without lifting it up while it was swung. I hadn’t been to their room in longer than I could remember. I just had no reason to, even though it was one third of the house.

Leonard and I took our seat at the bench just as Ma was setting a wooden plate full of fried hard eggs in front of us. My mouth watered, but what I was really looking forward to was, of course, the bacon. She sat that plate in front of Pa.

Pa looked up at me as he took a bite of bacon and passed the plate around. You goin to the field? He followed the question with a gulp of coffee.

I finished chewing my egg and looked up at him. Yeah, it’s Monday.

Ma sat down at her seat and smiled; she was missing a few teeth. Only go as near the line as you have to now.

The end of our field came right up to the hard grass that bordered the line.

It was something she said each morning to whoever was going to the field, but that morning it struck me as irritating. Ma, I’m not a kid and I’ve been working our field for years. I’ll stay away from the line. I always do.

Pa set his coffee cup down with more force than usual. Watch how you talk to your ma, boy. He looked across our faces to see if any of us wanted to challenge his authority.

Sorry Sir, I managed. And sorry Ma.

Pa grunted. My apology was accepted.

Ma reached for an egg and scooped it up with her fork and used her knife to gently push it onto her plate. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t worry. I know we’re all in good hands.

Pa grunted again.

She talked like that often. We guessed that she was talking about the line walker or the Dorax trying to keep us safe, but if we asked her to clarify she would just change the conversation.

Ma took a dainty sip of tea and forced another smile. Maybe our king will approve a move for us so we can be a little safer.

Pa shook his head. The field’s been in our family for generations. No one’s crossed yet.

Ma looked at me and I felt myself sink a little.

Right. Not yet. Ma broke a piece of bacon off and popped it in her mouth.

Frederick cut in,It’s too bad the line’s there. The land on the other side of it looks just as fertile as ours.

Pa grunted in agreement and went for another egg. Looks even better.

On we all ate, the only sounds being our chewing and forks and knives against our wooden plates, and the occasional crack from the cook stove.

Frederick broke the silence. So why the bacon? What’s the special occasion?

Ma smiled and put her fork down as she stood and got behind Pa. Well, boys, your Pa got promoted. She beamed as she leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Frederick’s eyes went wide. So bacon every morning?

Pa chuckled. It wasn’t that much of a raise! He put his fork down and slid his plate back a little. Well, boys. It’s about time to get to work.

Jonathan stood first. Or school. He went back into our bedroom to change.

Leonard still looked half asleep as he tried to step over the bench. He caught his foot on the edge and stumbled, but I snatched his sleeve and kept him from falling.

Whoever was working the field had to take care of the animals before they went. Except for on the weekends. Because Jonathan was too young to be that close to the line, he couldn’t work the field. So he tended them Saturday and Sunday. But like I said, it was Monday.

After changing, I grabbed the egg basket and two empty glass bottles and headed out the door. The cool air filled my lungs as I walked to our decrepit barn. You would think that because Pa worked at a sawmill he would be able to get boards cheap (or maybe even the ones that weren’t perfect for free) to replace the rotted boards and fill in the spots where the boards had already come off.

I pulled hard on the latch and it gave a loud click. Then I heaved the door open. It creaked as it swung. The smell of fresh hay hit me. The goats started jumping back and forth in their pen, anticipating the grain they were sure was coming. Calm down, calm down. You know you have to wait till you’re being milked.

I opened the door to the chicken coop and the rooster came strutting over as if to show off his brilliant orange and red feathers, and to make sure I knew he was head of the flock of course. He hopped down the step and crowed. Once he started moving away the hens followed, one by one, on their way out to hunt for worms and grubs. I popped open the nest box lid and took a quick peek inside. Fresh eggs, but they would have to wait.

Ebony stuck her head over the fence and I rubbed it, such a friendly goat. Daisy, our other milk goat, pushed up by her, just looking for some grain. After milking them both, I collected the eggs and dropped everything off with Ma.

She fingered through the basket. Looks like we got a good number of eggs this morning.

Yup. Ten hens, ten eggs. No slackers this morning.

Alright. She picked up the two jars of milk and began to filter them through some cloth. I’ll be making some cheese today.

I just smiled. There were very few things that were better than Ma’s cooking.

I picked up one of the small sacks of food lined up on the counter that I knew would be waiting for us. Fresh bread, some honey, and an apple, our standard lunch. Eventually we would all grab one and leave for the day, except Ma.

The road in front of our house was cobblestone. I paused when I got up to it and looked down toward the village. Beth’s house could just barely be seen, and sometimes she would be out working in their garden. I lingered a moment longer, hoping to