Ma-Ji: Revelations

By Byron Dye

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 6, 2006
• ISBN: 9781469108841

Byron Dye

Born the son of a farmer’s son, I grew up in rural Indiana. With dirt under my fingernails and grass stains on my jeans, I never wanted for a fresh breeze on my skin or the wind at my side. My parents, along with a small congregation, struggled to send me off to college. It was there I met friends of a lifetime and began to understand the dogma that had so colored my life…my cocoon was starting to come undone. After college, I entered the military and was exposed to many new and wonderful thoughts and ideas. It was then that I began to see a world too small for my burgeoning spirit. My mind had been filled to overflowing with answers, but when life presented a different set of questions, I found the stock answers lacking. That is when my marvelous journey began…to a place of unbounded light, and un-harvested fields. I am only just now beginning to see the depths of this world’s hidden reaches. I invite you to come and sit by the winding waters with me and hear the tale of the frenzied brook. I currently live in Atlanta, Georgia USA, and work for a large telecommunications company. I write in my spare time and enjoy photography.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

A PROPHECY WITHIN A PROPHECY

T he alarm’s unkind whine startled me from a most

sound sleep. I had been having that dream again: the one where I am running through a forest of snow, being chased by an angry mob.

My pillow was wet with sweat, and my body ached. It was almost as if I had really been there—really been running for my life. Pulling myself out of the bed, I tried as best I could to shake off a feeling of impending doom. I showered, dressed quickly, and headed out for work.

Time and traffic were against me, however. My progress seemed to stall no matter what course I took. The fact that I was late, for the second time in less than a month, did not go unnoticed by my boss. I could sense another discussion about responsibility coming on.

Oh well, I was here, and I had more important things on my mind. But before I could even power-up my computer, the phone began to ring. What now? I don’t have time for this, I gasped under my breath.

Mr. Johnson, it’s you… I tried to sound offhand, but I suspected that this call would be woefully unpleasant. My greeting only served to make it worse.

I am tired of waiting, he shouted into the phone. What are you doing about my little problem?

Mr. Johnson was the head of a small, but influential, company that had made a fortune drilling for natural gas deposits in the Alaskan wilderness. My company sold him the drilling equipment. This had been a most profitable venture for both companies up until a few months ago.

You see, the unrelenting cold (temperatures were running well below normal for this time of year) had wreaked its torturous effect on the steel drill bits: three bits had already cracked, replacements were running behind schedule, and drilling was about to be halted.

Sir, I assure you that we are doing all we can, I hadn’t even taken my seat yet, but knew in my heart that I was cornered. We will do whatever is necessary to…

He cut me off mid-sentence. I am so glad that you feel that way. The quick change in his voice, although pleasant, had a defiant edge. I have already been in contact with your senior vice-president, and he has assured me that you will personally see this issue to fruition.

But… I tried to interject, knowing that this runaway train was bound for a crash. And without so much as a breath, he pressed on.

So, I have taken the liberty of booking your travel. I will meet you onsite in three days’ time. Our private company jet will be ready for departure at 6:00 A.M. tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.

The hum of the dial tone was still ringing in my ears when I finally collapsed into my chair. I was speechless, well almost…"Alaska. I can’t just jump on a plane and head to Alaska. Who’s going to pick up my mail; water my plants; keep my warm, cozy bed company?

I’ll freeze. I’ve been living in Atlanta for nearly twenty years now. I don’t even have a winter coat. And besides, it’s ninety degrees outside. I should be swimming, not crunching through a frozen wasteland.

My boss wore a most maniacal look upon his face as he rounded the corner to my cubicle. Just heard the news. Don’t bother getting settled in. I suppose you’ll want to go home and pack. He was enjoying this way too much. Do be careful of frost bite, wont you.

Fine, I yelled after him. I was hoping for some time out-of-the-office anyway. I’ll see you in a few weeks then. My boss’s door slammed shut, but I knew that he had heard me.

In less than five minutes, my briefcase was packed and I was back in my car heading for home. But that is not where I needed to go, I thought. Where am I to find winter clothes in the middle of September?

Just then, I glanced over at a small, dumpy looking building off a side street. I had not noticed it before. Seems someone had cut down the thick underbrush to reveal a secondhand clothing store. A big sign in front said: Winter Woolies On Sale Now.

Wow, what luck. And I pulled into a desolate parking area right in front. Mine was the only car around, and I began to think the business defunct, when the blue neon letters began to flash OPEN.

I felt a bit uneasy about being the only one in sight and reluctantly made my way to the front door. A clanging bell announced my arrival, but I was still alone, as far as I could see. Hello, I called out tentatively, anyone here? I waited, but no one answered.

Just as I turned to go, I heard a ruckus emanating from the back storeroom. Are you alright? I shouted out. Need some help? An old woman sidled from the room in complete disarray: her hair was a mess, and her clothes were disheveled.

Are you sure you are alright? I asked again.

Oh dear, she groaned, I am not as agile as I used to be; getting to the boxes on top has always been a problem. But what can I do for you today? She quickly re-spun the conversation.

I’m flying out tomorrow… to Alaska, of all places. I can’t believe my good fortune in finding a shoppe that sells heavy winter clothes in September. How long have you been here? I added nervously. I haven’t noticed this store before. Why I was telling her all this I couldn’t quite grasp, but she simply smiled and motioned me to follow.

This is what you will be needing, dear. She had stopped at a table piled high with long underwear, thermal socks, and, of all things, a decaying pile of old books.

Let me know if you need any help with sizes, she called out as she hobbled back to the mess that awaited her in the storeroom.

I picked through the lot to find a couple of matching pairs of socks; I pulled out the smallest of the long johns; and, for good measure, chose a book to read on the trip. Why not, I thought. I had read everything at home—twice.

Moving to a nearby aisle, I tried on the thickest wool coat I could find. It was a bit big, but I knew that it would have to cover not only me, but also several layers of drab garb. None of these clothes had any hint of color, but I guessed that warmth was to be valued more here, than style, so I bought them all without further complaint.

The old woman rang up the sale, neatly folded my purchases, and stuffed them carefully into two oversized bags. Thank you very much for your help, I said as I made my way back to the front door.

Right before the door’s clanging bell fell silent, I heard the old woman call after me. Oh dear, she wheezed, you almost forgot your book. Out-of-breath and panting hard, she handed me my final purchase and then scurried off.

I have always hated packing. I never know what to take and what to leave behind. After laying everything out on the bed, I gave up trying to decide, closed my eyes, and started throwing things into a suitcase.

I made it to the small airport with zero time to spare. No frills here. The captain hoisted my bags into the hold and hustled me aboard. With the plane to myself, I settled in and slept—that was until we hit a patch of rough air.

Not feeling a bit sick, are we? the captain smirked from the cockpit. We’ll be landing in Denver, for refueling, then continuing on over to Juneau: the boss wants me to pick up a couple more passengers before taking you all to the airport outside of Prudhoe Bay. Relax, and don’t even think that I am going to get you any refreshments.

Boy, what an attitude, I mused while fumbling through my luggage to find the book that I had brought. I desperately needed something to take my mind off this trip.

Now where was it… I know that I stuck it in here somewhere. Ah, here it is. And I pulled out the peeling and faded black book. Wait, this isn’t the one I picked out. The old woman must have given me the wrong one.

The writing on the cover was illegible and several of the first pages had been torn out. I still didn’t know what the title was, or have an inkling on what the book was about.

I guess it really doesn’t matter. There’s nothing else on this plane to read. So I turned to the first chapter and began to skim the tightly packed words.

The story caught my attention immediately. It was about a man named Daniel—same name as mine. Couldn’t be all bad then. The story took place in Ancient Babylon. And since I do like a good fiction tale, I read on.

Just as I reached the part about the book with no name, the captain interrupted: We will be landing in Denver shortly, please secure your seatbelt—unless you want to die. Thank you.

Since I didn’t want to die, just yet, I did as instructed and stowed my belongs for the landing. I couldn’t wait to get back on firm ground and stretch my legs.

Once we skidded to a three-point stop, and the captain parked the plane, I gladly disembarked. Don’t go wandering off, the captain quipped. We won’t be here that long. So I walked to the edge of the tarmac, sat down on a retaining wall, and watched the other planes come and go.

It was a beautiful morning and the sun was about to burn off the dew, when I saw something strange in the distance. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn that it was a gray wolf. But I am sure that that wasn’t the case; it must have been a dog. All of a sudden, I was lost in my recurring dream again.

Hey, the captain screamed, jarring me back to reality. Are you coming or what? I don’t know how long I had been sitting on that wall.

As much as I would have liked to explore the or what, I did as I was told and slunk back to the plane. Once we had regained the sky, I poked around under my seat for the black book, and returned to Babylon.

The story wound its way around into a second exile. A man named Hanan had just discovered something of great importance. And that is where the tale died—just like that. But where was the rest of it?

The final pages included an ink drawing of a medallion intricately carved with symbols all along the edge. All the writing that followed looked to be based upon this code. I had always liked that decoder-ring stuff, but I wasn’t quite in the mood for it just now. So I laid the book down and fell off into a deep sleep.

I don’t remember landing in Juneau, but once the hatch was opened, the cold shivered my body awake. People were getting on. The plane trembled as more luggage was shoved into its belly. Two thinly dressed businessmen climbed onboard and sat in the back.

Thirty-five degrees is probably down right balmy for what they are used to. I shook my head, pulled my blanket tighter, and turned my attention back to more sleep.

The hatch was finally swinging shut, and warmth was, once again, settling over me. But before the door could be fully latched, I heard a commotion erupt outside.

The door opened