Stephen Elkins

801-592-3334

stevieraymtg@gmail.com

Springville ut

Fanaticism

S.R. Elkins

Chapter 1:
 For Mercy has a human heart

Pity, a human face;

And Love, the human form divine;

And Peace, the human dress.

William Blake

Wear and tear had caused the door to Sister Ashes office to

become soft and brittle, leaving a shell of what once was a great

oak guardian to her office. Michael ran his hand across the

etched figures of Saint Nicholas along the trim encasing the door

frame. Age was not kind to the little figures, cracks ran through

them making the little men ancient looking.

Listening to the sounds escaping the perforated and damaged

wood, Michael took care not to be noticed as he eavesdropped in

to the conversation between two of his caretakers, as he so often

did during his afternoon hall duties.

Sister Ashe, our concerns must be heard. The children are

much too young to leave now. They have always collected the

children at their 17th birthdays and never as a group. Could...

Sister Ashe gray haired, aged and wrinkled on what could

have been every inch of her body, raised her hand to silence her

companion, a stumpy, but not obese, dark eyed, pink faced woman

Sister Janice. Sister Ashe bowed her head in exhaustion. Janice,

I do understand, but we simply cannot and will not challenge the

clave. You have been here what?

Eleven years I do believe. Sister Janice said with a queer

sort of quiver in her already squeaky, but pleasant voice.

A strange and rhythmic tapping sound of hard leather on

stone poured through every crack in the door. Michael could feel

the vibrations surge through the straw bristles up the end of his

crudely carved broom handle, every strike of Sister Janices foot

on the slate confirming a sickening knot growing in his stomach.

Something had to be troubling the usually stern and composed

caretaker.

Sister Ashe, please consider what will happen to the

children, the Clave has never stepped outside the normality of

their process, what

Michael could feel the tension seeping through the door, as

if it were a fog bank rolling off the sea on a cool and humid

night. The hairs stood up on the back Michaels neck. What could

they be arguing about? Why are they so bothered by children

leaving? All of the children need homes they know this. The worry

swam around Michaels mind.

 Janis; the Claves law is our will and it will be done,

conformit my dear friend. She said with a light exhale of

exasperation.

You mean obedience, not compliance. With a tone of

defiance spoke Sister Janice raising her head to meet her beloved

mentor.

Janice your tone pleases.

Michael set his broom against the stone wall, gently to keep

from making any noise, so he would not draw any attention to his

imperative eavesdropping. Needing to focus more on the task at

hand, Michael placed his ear with purpose to the door as to focus

more effectively to the conversation.

Ahhhhh!

The blood curdling screech startled Michael enough to knock

over his broom, and slam his head causing a hollow thud as his

scull struck the door. Leaning against the door, Michael rubbed

the knot forming on his head and wiped the tears from his eyes.

There was a swift muffled rustling behind the office door before

it swung opened, enticing Michael inward with it.

He lay on his back, eyes closed and his mind spinning.

Slowly opening his eyes with much reluctance he looked up meeting

the teary eyes of Sister Janice. With a face full of concern, and

an under line of shock, Sister Janice looked down upon their

intruder. A gangly figure with dark hair, blue eyes and a

mettlesome smile was stretched out in front of them; there could

be only one student who had such a smile.

Mr. Stone, what in the world?

Umm ya, sweeping, and sorts-a tripped ... but before

Michael could finish speaking another scream came bellowing

through the now opened door, redirecting the attention of

everyone present.

A loud whomp, whomp, whomp sound following the crippling

cries of pain started to echo through the hall.

Turning slowly to his Left Michael braced himself up on his

elbows so he could see past the plump caretakers, around the door

seal and out of the office. Vibrations between the stone and

Michael's elbows sent a sensation of panic up his arm threw his

spine, causing him to shiver with anticipation.

Wow, what could have caused a screamed like that? It

sounded like someone is torturing a cat, Michael said with a

fearful chuckle.
 Michael, stay here! Do not move until otherwise told! Do

you understand me Mr. Stone? And we will talk later about your

improper timing with your jokes.

Yes-um. No need to tell me twice.

Before Michael could even have any other ill timed thought,

the old and gravitationally challenged caretakers waddled off

with a speed in which Michael could not have conceived possible.

Their movements were awkward, yet graceful, and full of purpose.

Michael only had to wait for a few short moments in

confusion and silence. At first there was another scream, and

then a blast of magisterial force that numbed Michaels senses.

This followed by a tremor that caused the old; strained with age

cottage to shake. Mortar began to rattle free, falling and

reducing to dust, causing stones to dislodged from their resting

place; losing their functionality of supporting the decomposing

orphanage that is Saint Nicholas Causa Perdita, in other words

Saint Nicholas; Orphanage for Lost Causes.

Covering his head and curling up under the door seal for

protection, Michael watched the detailed grandfather clock that

stood across from the office doorway. He so often loitered near

it, reveling at the oversized monolith and stroking its mahogany

surface. It started to rock back and forth, the pendulum bob,

which always swung back and forth with such a perfect rhythmic

pattern, began to swing faster and faster until it began to slap

its glass sides. Soon the whole pillar of smooth wood and glass

began to totter back and forth. There was a flash of

inconceivable light that maimed Michaels sense of depth and

perspective, rendering time in slow motion. The pendulum lyre and

bob of the once grand clock began to creep from one side to

another, as if watching it swing silhouetted in front of a strobe

light.

The boy and the grandfather clock begin to rise a few feet

from the ground. Stretching his arms out Michael began reaching

for the molding around the door for leverage. As if on queue from

an invisible master with no other purpose but to keep the boy

from reaching safety, there was another powerful explosion

shattering all of the windows, and glass around the immediate

surroundings. Slamming Michael into what was left of the glass

door on the grandfather clock. With a deafening crunch, Michael

and the mammoth clock collapsed as one in a fury of disaster.

Dazed and disoriented Michael attempted to crawl his way out

of the wreckage left from the blast. Covered in debris of glass,

stone and wood made it hard for him to move. There were inaudible

screams followed by cries that wallowed in his head.

 Help Someone please Michaels faint cries for

assistance fell on deaf ears with no one around to come to his

rescue.

Lifting his head Michael did his best to see over the

rubble. Michael could see very little down the short corridor. A

thin layer of smoke or mist had overtaken the musky air. Unable

to move his legs in order to get up, the boy was forced to remain

tethered to the floor.

After moments of loud crumbling and crunching. Michael could

see a small spectral figure emerging out of the smoke toward him.

With great discomfort and uncertainty the boy could tell it was

Tommy Young, a small squirmy 13 year old. His clothes were

tattered and burnt. Tommys face was covered in sweat, soot and

blood. His eyes were panicked and glazed with confusion as he

noticed Michael lying in the mess.

Tommy please help me? Michael looked over the unresponsive

boy. Tommy what is wrong? Can you Please help me? Still with no

response from the boy Michael dug deep to muster up the last of

his strength to yell. TOMMY!!!!!!! What the hell is going on?

Please I am hurt.

With very slight movement at all Tommy attempted to focus

his attention on Michael and the wreckage before Him. Well hi ya

Michael, what are you doing on the ground? If you dont hurry you

will be late for class again.

There was a very eerie smile upon Tommys face that just did

not sit well with Michael's gut. Late for Tommy what is wrong

with you? Cant you see what is going on around you, hear the

screams anything? Please My leg is stuck under the stones that

fell from the ceiling.

You and your stories Michael, always panicking about

everything, it really is not healthy to always be worrying so

much. Get up and lets get to class before we both end up doing

lines again.

Lines, what in the hell Tommy, look around you there is

smoke everywhere, youre covered in dirt and - and blood.

Well I dont know what youre up to but I am not going to

let you get me in trouble again. Ill see you in class. Tommy

turned, whistling in a bubbly tune, and began to skip down the

hall. Michael stared at him perplexed at the nonchalant attitude

of Tommy, but not for long, soon following Tommys bizarre exit

there was a movement in the smoke again coming from the same

direction that Tommy had.

The cloud of smoke began to diminish leaving a veil of mist

lingering in the corridor. Slowly the figures emerging from the

curtain of cover began to come into focus for Michael. Sister

Ashe came into view first, but she was not alone there was a

charred mass in her arms. As Sister Ashe approached, he realized

what she was carrying in her arms. This was not just any chard

mass; this was Jenny Torn.

Draped across sister ashes arms was the limp body of Jenny.

Her little pale arms curled up close to her chest, giving the

effect that sister Ashes was just carrying a sleeping child.

Jennys Blonde hair now grayed with soot, matted together and

singed on most ends. Sweat, blood, and ash covered the poor

girls face and no rise or fall of her chest.

As Sister Ashe approached Michael could see the pain and

torment in her tear filled Hazel eyes. Her clothes were damp and

grimy. The typically nicely covered cinnamon gray hair Sister

Ashe usually wore was now strung across her shoulder in a

defeated looking manor. She slightly looked down at Michael as

she passed him to enter her office.

Sister Ashe please help me? My leg its, Its trapped under

some rocks. Michael's voice trailed off as Sister Ashe ignored

his request and shut what was left of her office door, using the

sole of her shoe to do so as she passed the threshold.

 Sister Janice limped up to Michael as he watched the door to

Sister Ashes office shut. Mr. Stone are you okay? Her voice

was very hoarse and strained.

She just, could you Sister please get me out of here? My

leg is trapped.

You were told to stay put where you not Mr. Stone? Sister

Janices eyebrows lifted slightly with this question as if she

actually expected an answer.

wh-I had no choice something just um, lifted me up and

threw me. He wondered how she could ask such a question when he

was immobilized directly in front of her. Then the question

passed his train of thought. How could she lift the stones

anyways, they must weigh as much as she does?

Michael did not have to wait long to get an answer to his

predicament. Sister Janice reached her left hand into her frayed

cloths and drew something from the breast of her garment. It

looked like her classroom pointer. The pointer was familiar

almost like an old friend to Michael, due to the fact she often

used it to lash one part of his body or another when he became

distracting to the other children; but more often than not it was

because he annoyed her.

 Do not move, Michael I dont want you to get hurt? She

raised her hand with the pointer towards the stones that pinned

Michaels left leg down.

Misto-leviea. Sister Janices eyes began to change to

light lavender color. The change in her eye color scared Michael,

but the pure power in them terrified him. With a clean motion

Sister Janice moved the tip of the pointer from the stone towards

her forehead which created a purple burst of light from the tip

of her pointer about the size of a quarter. She then lowered the

pointer tip with an exact motion towards her navel creating yet

another small circle but this time yellow. With a single motion

she moved the end of the pointer from her midsection to the

center of her chest creating a green circle, then drew the

pointer out creating a stream of pink light. Sister Janice then

recited the strange word again. Misto-leviea. With a quick

flick of her wrist the pink stream of light wrapped itself around

the mist pulling towards the stone trapping Michael's leg. The

steam solidified and enclosed around the stone creating a small

cloud that caused the stone to rise.

Michael could feel the pressure on his leg begin to fade

away. With her guidance the stone slowly raised releasing

Michaels leg from its entrapment. With a satisfied release of

breath Michael freed his leg with ease. Sister Janice lost focus,
her eyes returned to their natural color, she relaxed and the

stone thumped back to the ground causing a cloud of dust to blast

up around it.

Are you alright Mr. Stone? She put away her pointer once

she realized Michael was still staring at it. With great effort

she squatted down next to Michaels leg. She ran her hand up and

down his it. A little bruised I do suspect but nothing is broke

I assume. You might just stay put next time youre asked.

Unable to speak at first Michael just stared at his

caretaker with a sense of awe. When he finally could manage to

untie his tongue only one word escaped his mouth. Wicked.

Glad to see after all these years of schooling you have

learned to express yourself in such an intelligent manner.

I a-well. Thank you. I was beginning to think I might have

to cut my own leg off to get free. Michael had so many

questions, but he knew there would only be time for one question

before she would rush him away.

Sister Janice is Jenny going to be okay But the boy

already knew the answer to his question; He had seen another dead

body once before.

 No I am afraid not, and I think its time for you to go to

your room Mr. Stone.

But

Do not argue this time Michael! Knowing that her tone of

voice was implicating frustration more than concern Sister Janice

took a breath and composed herself. Please Michael this is one

time that I could really use some cooperation. I would really

appreciate it if you would take yourself to your room. All of

your questions will be answered in due time and I think it would

be a wise idea to not speak of anything you have seen today until

you have talked to Sister Ash and myself.

Giving one last look of confusion before accepting his

defeat, Michael rose from the ground with a slight wobble at the

knees. Sister Janice was right his leg was not broke but did

hurt. The sister reached out and placed her hands on his shoulder

to steady him.

Thank you Sister. Michael Turned and headed towards the

barn.