| If You Could Hie...; Behind the Headlines Deseret 1940 RP | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 18 2010, 08:47 PM (173 Views) | |
| Vextra | Oct 18 2010, 08:47 PM Post #1 |
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Ezden DaVere was the happiest boy in Castle Dale. No, he was the happiest Man in Castle Dale. He blinked his eyes rapidly, as the bright light shining faded enough that he could see more clearly. It was his Sixteenth Birthday, and the snap of the Town Photographer's camera had briefly dazzled him. "Congratulations, Ezden, your a Man now. Sixteen and ready to become a part of the Community like never before. Pretty soon you'll be married!" his Uncle laughed, his scarred face stretching his smile out like a clowns. Some thought Uncle Novich creepy and suspicious for his war-scars, but Ezden had always seen past the man's disfigured face, to the gentle soul within. It was one of Ezden's gifts, or so he believed, that he could always tell the true character of a person. "Do you think there will be any sweetrolls left, Father?" he asked, somewhat jokingly. In truth the War had cut hard even into a rural community like Castle Dale, such that things like flour were severely rationed. Everyone smiled and pretended like it didnt matter, but even someone as easygoing as Ezden struggled to contain his disappoint that there would be no Birthday Cake this year, like last year, and the year before last. "Gosh, you look all manly in that outfit Ezden!" teased Brookanna. She was a beautiful girl with aspirations, with long brown ringlets and womanly curves despite her young age. All the boys in Castle Dale liked her, but she was Ezden's Friend, and he looked out for her. She often liked to make saucy jokes, but he knew that she was his Friend too. He wondered if they might marry, but marriage was something he often tried not to think about. There were alot of things in life that were best not thought about. Blushing, he brushed himself self-consciously, aware of the tight-fitting Dirt brown uniform he had on. Like all men who turned 16 and elected not to go into Farm or Factory work, he would serve 2 years in the Army. In truth he was one of the lucky ones, and he felt that his Test scores had been high enough that he would be kept in Reserve so he could complete Higher Studies, and maybe become a Preist or a Doctor or something. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do with his life yet. "Thanks Brook. Your Dress isn't too bad either." he said brightly, before blushing again. It was true, she always filled out her dresses nicely. Not like his Sister, Dolore DaVere. She was a bit of a stick figure, and she was always going on about how she would one day be the Mother of an Elder's Spirit Children or something. She was ambitious like that, but her abilities rarely met her expectations. As such, she could be cruel. He stood with her apart from the rest for a while, whilst they talked and laughed and danced and drank lemonade and ate sweetrolls. Somewhere a band was tuning its violins and was preparing to play something lively. He felt awkward. He knew that in a few weeks he would recieve his Orders, and everyone expected him to be Mustered to New Zion, where he would Study and become a Better Man. His Father had been in the Church for 3 generations, but always they had been little more than ranchers, tailors and leatherers. Now Ezden, with his bright mind and his gifts, stood a real chance to enter the Quorum if he tried. His Father wanted it. His Mother longed for it. Even Dolore, from time to time, muttered encouragements. He stared at Brookanna, and she stared back. A strong wind blew across the Village Communal Ground, ruffling the tablecloths on the party-tables around them, blowing the early fall leaves into Brookanna's long curly hair. She sighed and tousled her hair. "I hate it when the wind does that, you know?" she said, awkwardly. She knew that when Ezden left it might be the last she'd see of him. Her father was a drunkard and the Town Miller, no prospect for advancement. Despite her looks, her skill at dancing, and her skill with the needle, the best she could hope for was a good marriage. She did not know if she would get someone as good as Ezden. "Hey, whats keeping you two?" chuckled Uncle Novich, interrupting their long quiet reverie. Ezden blinked, wondering what had just occurred and passed between them. He was carrying some drinks in his hands. "There's an Elder here looking for you, Ezden. He's heard all about your brightness and your smarts. I think he wants to talk to you, maybe test you himself." Novich muttered. "Thanks. I'll go see him right away." Ezden found himself lingering in Brookanna's presence, her melancholy eyes reflecting a sadness he didn't understand. He resolved to speak to her again at some point before he left in a few weeks, make sure that they parted as Best of Friends. For some reason that thought didn't make him any happier. "Go on. I'll be waiting. You're Blessed, Ez, everybody knows it. Impress the Elder and maybe Castle Dale might be famous for your glory one day." She meant it kindly, and she smiled, but her heart felt strangely empty. She turned reluctantly, her hands clasped at her side, fidgeting with ribbons on her dress. It was the finest dress she'd ever wear, she was sure of that. Moving away with his Uncle, they moved back into the main body of people, who were gathering to Sing. So far the Band had played merry folk ditties and tunes suited for dancing, but now, with the Elder present, it was planning to play something truly fitting a representative of the Church of the Latter Day Saints. "Does everybody know Hie to Kolob?" said the Band Leader, as Hymnal Books were handed out. "Yes, of course. What kind of Town do you take us for? No Baptists here!" someone from the crowd called out, causing a ripple of laughter. It was true, Castle Dale, though small, was almost completely Mormon. The rest were Labourers and Marketers, who were not as a rule invited to public celebrations like Ezden's Coming of Age Birthday Party. Ezden found himself being jostled and pushed to the front of the crowd, as they gathered to sing the mournful Hymnal known as "Hie to Kolob." It was a popular tune, and its melancholy air seemed to fit Ezden's mood perfectly. He had always liked the tune. It spoke to him, of a yearning for things greater than what they seemed to be here on Earth. Even as a child he would wander the land around his father's estate, looking into the Great Prairie, dreaming not of Cowboys and Indians or fighting the evil Rebs as the other boys did, but of being able to fly away, on one of those amazing and rare flying machines he had heard existed in New Zion. He dreamed of touching the stars at night, and of being like the rocketmen in the comic books he had hoarded his savings to buy. Even as he sung along now, rooted in place, he found his mind wandering, drifting on clouds of introspection. His eyes wandered too, seperate to his brain, and registered the stern, bearded face of a finely dressed stranger. The Elder. Ezden had a Destiny to meet. It was grand enough, he had heard it told to him, like an incredible story, many times. Yet still he found himself yearning for something...more. |
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| Vextra | Mar 6 2011, 10:33 PM Post #2 |
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Colonel Oliver was in charge of the 33rd Riders Regiment, and it was the first time in years he had been as close to the Heart of Deseret as Castle Dale. He and his men had spent many long years raiding, fighting, hiding, and living rough in the No Man's Land that was Idaho and Montana. They had lost well over half their number in this brutal, constant guerilla warfare, and had participated in many heavy pushes to destroy Federal Encampments and Rail Depots. But a Ceasefire had been declared six months ago, and as such the 33rd had returned to the Heartland, and were now replenishing their numbers and completing training. Apparently they were due to get a Fresh Faith Officer, but noone had told them who. Colonel Isaiah Oliver chewed heavily on an illegal and amoral cigar, his last, taken as loot from dead Mexicans. The War was always fluid, and always there, for all that there were frequent "break" periods. The Diplomats tried to pretend it was all part of the Game, the striving for peace and reconciliation. In reality it was just excuses to try and prolong the inevitable. But such defeatist thoughts were best left unsaid. "Colonel, there's an Elder in town, they've just had a Hymnal. Apparently they're testing a boy." Lieutenant Wheeler came up. A rough bearded Baptist, many men would consider Wheeler lesser because of his past and cultural upbringer. But he was one of the meanest, hardest rough riders Oliver had ever known, and that made him worth 10 fresh out of faith school Mormons. "So? Why you telling me?" "Apparently the Elder wants to see you after the testing." Oliver raised his eyebrow. "Well, allright then. Can't rightly say I know why an Elder would want to speak with a plainspoken Rough rider like myself-" "Oh give over, sir. We both know they're gonna pester you again." The Lieutenant said with camarederie. The Colonel sighed. It was true. Those damn fools kept trying to "honour" him by asking him to settle down as a Junior Ephod and set a good example for the kids. They were trying to make him a Hero, but Oliver had never felt like one. "Tell the men to enjoy themselves while it lasts. We'll likely be riding back to the Border Zones soon." he said grimly. "Aye sir." The Colonel mounted his gelded stallion and cantered it down the road, heading towards the Temple. That was most likely where the Testing would be held. Oliver sighed. He hoped the boy was smarter than he was faithful, because he'd never seen Ghosts and he knew noone in the Ephod ever had. Ezden gazed in wonder at the Pained Tabernacle around him, as he was taken into the sacred heart of the local Temple. Here he would be tested, to see if the Angels favoured him, to see if the Voices spoke. How he had prayed with all his might that the Ghosts might honour him, perhaps even Joseph Smith himself, though he would be busy on Kolob. Ezden knew that one day he would fly to Kolob on a rocket-ship, and be the first living human to unite again with the Angels. He believed this with total conviction. "Now, Ezden. This is your Hour of Reflection. I need you to kneel on the floor, facing upwards, and to try your hardest to let the Universe into your heart and mind. Try to relax and be calm. I will be back shortly." The Elder left, closing the heavy brass door behind him, leaving Ezden in the sacred heart of the temple, alone, with silence and the beauty of the paintings around him. He knelt in front of a tableaux showing George Washington ringing the Bell of Freedom, stood next to his equal, Joesph Smith, reading from the Book of Nephi. Kneeling before them were the multitudes of Earth, the Blacks, Asians and Red Israelites grovelling for forgiveness. For an Hour he prayed more fervently than he ever had, in the silence, whispering urgently, begging them to come to him, to impart their wisdom and knowledge. In his mind he heard the song I Know That My Redeemer Lives, and willed himself as hard as he could to be ready for when the Ghosts spoke, to keep his eyes closed and his heart open and everything else that he had been taught. He had never considered that they might not speak to him. He had worked so hard to be so good. Of course they would come. The Hour passed. The Elder returned. Even as he heard the footsteps of the Elder behind him, Ezden still couldn't believe that his prayers hadn't been anwsered. Tears began to flow unbidden from his eyes. This couldn't be happening. The Hour couldn't be over! The Elder was early. "Ezden, how did it go?" the stern voice asked. "I-i..Elder, I need just...more time..." he felt his own voice cracking and wavering like it had in puberty. He felt shame burning through him, as he opened his wet eyes, and looked again at the mural in front of him. Washington seemed to be Judging him with his stern gaze, Joseph Smith's smile seemed mocking now. He felt lower than the lowest Black, filthier than the most corrupt Jew. Why was he not Worthy enough? Had he not done everything, memorised every scripture, tried his hardest? Why would they not even Speak to him? "Tell me, please! What do you want from me?" he shouted, tears filling his eyes. The Elder tutted. "I see you do not understand. I see that you were not worthy enough afterall. Perhaps next year..." The Elder's words shattered Ezden's composure, and he wept like a child. The Elder turned, disgusted. "Weak, too weak, and stupid too." he muttered. "It seems your destiny is set after all, young DeVere." Ezden did not remember what happened next, except as a blur. He was pulled out of the sacred heart of the temple, and, moving as if in a dream, he was taken to meet a Colonel.... |
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8:27 PM Jul 11
