Return again, return again, return to the land of your soul.

Return to who you are, return to what you are,

Return to where you are, born and reborn again.

Jewish Song-Prayer by Raphael Kahn

Prologue The Angel of Death

California Donner Summit Highway 40 February 1967

     Blinding snow pelted the windshield, piling as fast as a tiny space was kept clear by laboring wiper blades. Two tire ruts ahead barely showed as streaks of gray in white. Beyond the pavement the sheer cliff edge vanished in a swirl of white-out and barely seen black night. He could see his target now, a slow-moving station wagon wallowing through the deep snow just entering a sharp curve ahead.

     The endless bitter-white-cold and the deep snow reminded him of Leningrad. Franco had called for volunteers from Portugal to fight with the Germans, so he went to war in the name of the Lady. They had killed many Russians but always there were more. His Blue Battalion had fought stubborn rearguard actions, retreating back to Germany with the loss of many friends captured, shot dead, or frozen in the snow.

     He thought about his life and he how he had survived the end of the war in nineteen fifty-four. When he made his way home to Fatima to join the Circle of the Lady to continue to fight the enemies of the Church. With this last mission in Her name I will taste final victory. Hail Mary, full of Grace . . . pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen. Reciting his Rosary to himself, he shifted the semi-tractor into third.

    Gaining speed as his tire-chains dug into the snow. Faster into fourth. And then with increasing speed and momentum, the diesel engine roared in the highest gear he could manage in the short stretch of road left to him. Plunging down the steep twisting road, like a massive toboggan, it was all he could do to keep the semi-tractor and its heavy gasoline tanker on the road. But that did not matter, as his mission would soon be complete with these enemies of the Lady destroyed.

     My confession has been heard and my sins absolved, soon I will be in the arms of the Blessed Virgin.

     The the last things the two adults up front and the young child in the back heard or saw before everything changed, were the bright beams of light that pierced the family car and the roaring sound of the accelerating metal-mass that enveloped and crushed it.

     No one witnessed the mingled terror of three souls, or the twisted cry of triumph of a fourth.

    No one else heard or saw the ear-rending crash. The exploding fuel, the crumbling cliff face or the careening mass of twisted metal and flame. Flesh, blood, metal and snow combined, as it all crashed down the mountainside into the dark jagged canyon.

     And no one at first saw the bright blue bundle with it`s halo of flames, thrown clear as the combined wreckage went over the cliff.

                                                      ***

Bishop’s Palace, Circle of Fatima Fatima, Portugal February 1986

    Perdonami Monsignore, "Forgive me Monsignor we almost had it but we missed him, l-lost it, he-e g-got away," mumbled the priest as he fell to his knees and then went belly-flat stretched out on the floor at the feet of his much taller superior. As the priest lay, he failed to notice the soft rich silk Persian carpet beneath him vibrantly colored with images representing the Moslem paradise. Feeling only his trembling limbs and the rapid beating of his heart.

     The face of his superior Monsignor DeSilva had grown still and unreadable as the trembling priest spoke. He thought, What is this worm doing laying on my carpet of Paradise? A worm in the Garden? Oh how I love to walk on this carpet. On this beautiful heathen image of an infidel heaven, crushing it underfoot with every step.

     "It was a simple task you were given. Nothing difficult." The Monsignor quietly spoke. "To simply overpower an old man and reclaim the object, the prophesied golem. And you say that somehow he eluded you?" Monsignor DeSilva, now with a rising anger pondered his options. What will I tell Archbishop Lefebvre ? And who else can I call forward now worthy of accomplishing this task for our Blessed Lady? Should I give this one another chance or not?

     Turning back to the still prone figure quietly quaking on the carpet. He spoke calmly but coldly his anger now a icy dagger, though not yet unsheathed. "You may yet save yourself from the fire. Is there any word on our other problem ? Is it true the boy lives? That he survived? And if so has he been found?"

     "No he mu-st-must be dead. The records show the mission was c-c-completed as ordered.", quivered the desperate voice from the depths of the floor. "One of our finest soldiers per-er-formed the task, a member of the Blue Legion. He was one of our most ac-complished warriors"

     "So you believe the original report and have found nothing at all? No trace despite the rumors?" The looming figure quietly spoke. The wretched man on the floor hoarsely croaked in despair, "no . . . oo . . thing at all. The wreckage burned so hot no bodies were found. E-even the bones were burnt to almost nothing. So no-no thing at all."

     This was possibly the worst news of all. The two, if these were the ones that the Third Secret foretold, could never be allowed to unite. The prophesied object was said to be possessed by a Gollum, a Demon with power to disrupt all their plans, to threaten the Supreme power of the Church. It must be found. The boy if alive has to be found and dealt with, turned to the service of the Lady or eliminated. I will extinguish this ancient heresy, these Jews, if it is the last thing I do. Victory is so close with just a few left, but they must all be found and either turned toward the Light and Truth or purified in the fire.

     The Monsignor’s anger now boiled over with a hot pain stabbing through his belly. He stopped griping his side to stay standing. Not now, Mother of God. Not now. His doctor had warned him to watch his anger, that it could eventually kill him.

     Recovering his stance, in a voice as hard as cold steel, the Monsignor’s words sliced through the air. "We have intelligence that the child may have survived. You will go now and at all costs find him. When you find him do Not alert him to your presence. Our brothers embedded in the government will help you locate this one, if he lives. He may have been in hiding all these years, but sooner or latter he will appear."

     Holding his side, the pain sharpening his voice, and picking up his long handled whip, he added." Proceed carefully and if you find him report back for instructions. Otherwise that is what Your fate may be. As you said, no thing at all. Now prepare to receive my gift to you ... your life."

     The leather whip thongs with their heavy sharp pointed lead balls rose high into the air above the priest, descending with force, tearing the white wool robe, now red with fresh blood. Again and again spots of bright red were added to the color of the luminous carpet. The priests cry’s of pain were silently swallowed by the dense silk fibers of the carpet of Paradise.

                                                         ***

Villa Vista Per Sempre, Portofino, Italy February 1986

    Deep in the cellars of the ancient villa among the Roman brickwork and bedrock limestone the sound of stone on stone was echoing. With a strength that belied his aged look the old man carefully lifted the limestone blocks, one by one, placing them into fresh mortar. His work this day was to re-seal the hidden cavity in the ancient wall where she had been hidden at the back of the wine cellar, all the while keeping his long white beard from being caught between the blocks.

     He had uncovered the first treasure and awakened Her to life, placing Her safely where she needed to be. Now her power would unfold and call out to the other one.

     The enemy had perused him closely from Italy to America but he had lost them there in the maze of New, New York City. Despite their long reach, money and power, they had not yet discovered this villa or the true power that the two vessels contained. That must remain so. They knew now of this one, but not it’s true nature and what it was capable of. Nor were they yet aware that the other one was alive. He would finish here quickly and then would resume his journey to aid the other one on his challenging path.

                                                               ***

Chapter One Joseph

    He knew this place even with his eyes closed. It was the same dream that came to him almost every night.

     Though tonight a strong sickly sweet smell of burned meat and wood smoke hung in the air. A strange new smell, a change to the dream. It was interlaced with the familiar scent of hot sun on stone, fragrant flowers and salt sea air. Keeping his eyes tightly squeezed he thought, It can’t be happening again. Please no. Wake up. Please wake me up!

     Opening his eyes at last he knew that it had captured him once again. The dream that haunted Joseph leaving him bleary eyed and exhausted in the morning.

     Looking down at his feet he saw he was wearing worn dusty leather sandals and a long, brown woolen robe. He thought, Everything is so clear this time, more solid less hazy. Is it somehow more real, more . . . I’m not sure?

     Standing on scorching hot cobblestone pavement with white plastered stone buildings all around, he could see the red tiled roofs and balconies hung with colorful flowering vines and citrus trees showing their blossoms over the tops of courtyard walls. The sky overhead was a clear brilliant sapphire blue.

     While awake he had never seen this kind of beauty, a sky that was so blue, endless brilliantly colored flowers and such bright sunlight in his entire life. His world was nothing like this. It was never very warm with few flowers, dull colored trees, and a sky that was almost always cloudy and gray. He thought, I could love this place and stay here forever . . . but for the rest of it . . . and here it comes . . .

     In the distance he could hear many voices, faint at first but now louder. Ugly angry voices quickly moving closer. Clouds of smoke were beginning to rise from far off scattered buildings. Though he knew it was not real and merely a dream he felt a growing fear.

     Joseph could now see an enormous crowd coming, hundreds of feet pounding on the cobble stones running towards him. Some carrying lit torches. They were closing in. Nearly upon him now. Streaming into the open square the sound of many voices crashed over him like a thunderous wave. He could not make out the words at first except one voice raised above the others, cried out clearly. "Matar os judeus!" Kill the jews, find the swine where they are hiding! Kill the pigs! Kill the pigs! Joseph knew that this was a different tongue not his own, yet he somehow understood it.

     Rooted in place unable to move he froze as the crowd surged forward rushing directly at him. Dream or not now he was truly terrified.

     The mob broke upon him flowing past and around yelling and screaming very close but seeming to not see him standing there. Some were running for their lives with their hair and clothing partially burned, sometimes stumbling, then being overrun and swallowed by the crowd.

    In absolute horror he saw these victims caught and torn apart in front of him! The shrieks of their death agonies rose above the roar of the mob. Brilliant red blood flowed on the pavement ... the hunters were pursuing and catching their prey. Some in the crowd brought wood and the broken bodies were piled on top covered with oil and lit with torches. Joseph cried out in terror but no one seemed to hear him.

     Paralyzed with horror and fear Joseph now understood the burned meat smell. He was an invisible witness to all of this .... he thought. But then one set of dark eyes looked his way and focused on him in a chilling stare. Their black robed owner turned, blood dripping from the knifes held in both his hands. He shouted "Obtenha ele!" get him! With out stretched arms and the lethal knifes pointed at Joseph, the figure lunged directly at him.

                                                 ***

Salt Lake City Utah March 10, 1986 Year Thirty-two of The ’Jewish’ Nuclear Winter

    Joseph inhaled sharply. He was holding his breath and shaking uncontrollably as he awoke in his own bed, a foam pad on the cold concrete floor in the simple basement space he rented. Despite the outside cold and the chilly room he was sweating, as heated with a fever. Pushing the tangled sleeping bag and blankets off his legs he quickly backed into a corner of the foam sleeping pad against two walls.

    He pressed his body into the sharp corner his heart beating wildly, panicked by the nightmare horror he had just experienced.The burn scars on his back grated against the rough plaster but still he pressed himself more tightly into the corner. Where I am? What just happened? Am I losing my mind?

     He could still see the enraged faces and hear the frenzied voices. The screams of the dying. The blood and burning bodies. Those dark eyes seeing him there. And the knives in those hands reaching for him. It was all vividly imprinted in his memory. He had dreamt of this place before and had felt some fear along with the beauty. But this time all the beauty had been smothered with unspeakable horror. Can I ever sleep again?

     The dream was so vivid that it took him some time to feel grounded in what and where he knew was real. Feeling the cold rough floor under his bare feet and gripping the old sleeping bag and coarse blankets of his bed with his hands, Joseph spoke out loud trying to calm his nerves, and to remind himself of what was real. "I am Joseph Davidson and I am almost twenty one years old. I am studying Italian violin building at the American violin making school in Salt Lake City. It is March tenth, nineteen-eighty-six, thirty-two years since the end of the war and the start of the long Jewish winter."

     After a while, gradually catching his breath and slowing his heart he sat up on his pillow crossed his legs and tried to meditate. This usually worked for him to find a calm center after his usual dreams or nightmares. But after a few minutes with the nightmare images still filling his mind he knew it was not going to work this morning. So he got up and threw cold water on his face and neck. Saying to himself, A dream, it was only a dream ...

     Still shaken by the nightmare he realized he was late for school. Sitting at his small chair and table he quickly ate a cold breakfast of granola with water downed with stale cold coffee and set out on foot to make his way to the violin making school. A cold winter wind was biting into him, fiercely funneled between the buildings. The wind poured down from the high snow covered peaks blowing the fresh-fallen powder snow against his back and neck. He was half run-walking in a awkward rolling gate, every step painfully pulling at the old scar tissue on his arms, back and legs. In the wind whipped snow he was carefully trying to not slip on the icy snow covered sidewalk. Joseph`s steps were helping to warm him some on this cold late winter morning, though not near enough. His winter coat was thin cheaply made and cheaply bought, a good coat for an orphan.

     Attempting to lighten his mind after his disturbed night, he hummed to himself the opening bars of the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto in E Minor. Daa, dahda, da dahda, dadadala dahda ... As the melody ran through his mind the fingers of his left hand started automatically fingering the notes in the air as he walked. The opening melody that ran through and haunted Mendelssohn’s mind now helped to sooth Joseph’s troubled thoughts.

     As distracted as he was being not fully awake and still shaken by the nightmare visions, he had still noticed this morning that someone seemed to be taking the same route he was, gradually gaining on him and now keeping just twenty feet or so behind. It was not unusual for another pedestrian to follow in one`s footsteps broken in the new fallen snow. But this man had followed him for a number of blocks, almost from the front door of Joseph`s building.

     When he reached the last corner in the sheltered entrance-way near the front door of his school, Joseph turned and looked at the man who was following him. The man, walking strongly against the increasing wind, belying his apparent age approached Joseph stopping abruptly two feet in front of him. He calmly stared at Joseph. He was well bundled against the cold, but in layers of mismatched ragged clothing, and even in the morning chill and gathering snow storm, a strong repellent scent of dirt and sweat hung over him. He looked like so many of the hundreds of homeless men on the cold streets, and Joseph wondered if the man needed help. Is he is a war veteran, or a civilian survivor, maybe with the bomb sickness?

     Mostly hidden by a hood and hat, just a bit of the face could be seen creased and wrinkled. Some strands of wild white hair and around the figure`s neck an odd shape in bright gold, something that looked so out of place on this man could be partially seen. The man`s eyes a brilliant blue pierced the morning gloom. They focused intensely at Joseph with a look that he would not soon forget. There was something about this man that felt powerful and perhaps dangerous, though on the surface he seemed harmless enough. Joseph could feel something unknown, something mysterious about the stranger, as if it was hidden just out of sight. Just under the surface. Was Joseph thrilled, or a bit scared, or some of each ? He wasn’t sure. Then just as suddenly and without a word the stranger turned and started to rapidly walk away. "Wait, wait, who are you? What do you want of me?"Joseph called after him.

     Stopping for a moment only twenty feet away, and partly obscured from view in the now heavily blowing snow the stranger turned, speaking just loud enough for Joseph to hear and said, "Tikun O`olam." He turned once more to walk away. "What do you mean, ticome what, . . . who-what is olume. . . ?" Joseph shouted into the swirling snow. The only answer was the whistle of the wind as the receding figure faded into the gathering storm.

     Joseph paused on the threshold of the violin making school leaning against the wall sheltered from the cold icy wind and now heavily blowing snow. He was shaken by that look, somehow pierced to his core with a deep feeling of something strange, something not normal, not of Josephs world. Oddly he now had a feeling of great loss, a tearing in his heart, as if a death had just somehow occurred a moment ago. He wanted to scream into the storm, "Wait don’t go! Who are you? Come back!" But the words would not come and it was no use as the stranger was gone.

     Who was that and what is he to me? What does he want of me? What is happening to me? The dream and last night’s nightmare and now this? It’s crazy. How can an old bum affect me like this?

     And then there was that shape, the golden form he had seen hanging at the man`s neck. It looked somehow like an open hand. It looked welcoming to me. I think I have seen something like it before, but I am not sure where or when. Maybe something my mother had worn?

     He could barely remember his parents, just the touch of warm loving hands, a beautiful voice sweetly humming, with a lower male voice singing strange words he could not recall. And that shape, like an open hand, bright and shining, inviting me closer. That’s it, it would catch my eye when I nursed at her breast. She wore it around her neck, always. But that was a faint memory, so long ago, nineteen years now, his parents were killed in a traffic accident when he was two. He was told that his scars came from the fire, from the crash, though he could not remember any of it.

     Now getting quite chilled from standing outside so long, and trying to shake off the strange encounter and the nightmare, Joseph entered the school and settled into his seat at the long workbench by the window overlooking the sidewalk.

     The warmth of the gas heater started to thaw his face and trying to relax, he inhaled deeply drawing in the smell of hot coffee from the many small desktop coffee makers mixed with the scent of spruce and maple shavings.

     The two high ceiling work rooms, former old fashioned retail shops with their sidewalk facing large glass windows, felt comfortable and safe after the events of last night’s nightmare and the strange encounter just outside.

     The other students were already at work, intensely focused on the detailed tasks in front of them, including Rachel the beautiful young woman Joseph sometimes dreamed of, when he was not lost in the other, strange dreams.

    Rachel had just transferred to the school, two weeks before. She was from the violin making school in Chicago as a third year student, the same year as Joseph. Her infectious laugh, relaxed easy smile and radiant beauty had delighted him the first moment he saw her. She had long dark brown hair, a shape that was slim and curved at the same time, emerald green eyes, and beautiful skin the color of warm honey.

     The violin Joseph was building lay in it`s cradle, with the top plate sitting on the rib structure, not yet glued into place.

     "Morning Joe ! You alright ?" His best friend Charles said. " You look frozen stiff !"

     "I`m just a bit cold, maybe I need a better coat. Thought I could get by till the end of winter with this one, but I need to go by Goodwill to see if they have any more in. It seems like winter is not getting any shorter, like they said it would after all these years."

     "Yeah, it sure is cold out, and the bloody snow is getting deep out there. But Joe, you look more than cold, you’re looking kind of spooky, like you`ve just seen a ghost or something?

     What`s happening, man ?"

     Joseph thought, that even though his recent experiences were so strange and sometimes frightening, that he still needed to tell someone, to maybe get some perspective. I think I can trust Charlie, I hope.

     Joseph moved his chair closer to Charlie, the wheels squeaking on the old wood floor, as he rolled over to him. Joseph bent close to Charlie, and lowered his voice.

     "Charlie, I don’t know, it’s crazy stuff. I don’t know if I can even talk about it or want to talk about it. You’ll think I am going off the deep end."

     "What do you mean crazy stuff? Like what?" Charlie looked towards the school directors office to see if they were being observed.

     "Some strange things have been happening to me, really weird stuff. Like, I had another strange super vivid dream last night. In fact I`ve had a bunch of them just this week almost every night. In these dreams, I’m somewhere real hot and sunny with buildings that look like something from the Mediterranean area. Spain or somewhere with bright colored flowers everywhere and a sky that is actually blue. I mean really blue, like in the colored pictures in old magazines, or films. They`re so beautiful, totally real, and somehow more than real. But these dreams are now turning into freaking nightmares, with people chasing others and killing them, tearing them apart right in front of me ... it is so horrible ... I can see it now happening right now, like I’m still there!"

     Charlies expression had gone through changes from brightening to darker, as he registered what Joseph was saying, his brown eyes growing larger as Joseph spoke.

     "And last night someone in this dream seemed to see me, a guy dressed in black with bloody knives in his hands. He actually saw me and then tried to grab me. Shit, I’m not getting enough sleep. I’m getting scared to just close my eyes."

     "Wow." Said Charlie, leaning back in his chair, stretching his back, and taking a deep breath. "That sounds bad. Like some real nightmares. Jesus ... people chasing and killing each other and tearing people apart in front of you? " A slight smile had formed on his face. "Are you sure it isn’t something bad you’re eating, causing them?"

     "Something I ate?"Joseph replied sharply.

     Charlie your a shit sometimes. I wish I hadn’t said anything.

     Charlie continued. "I don’t know much about dreams, I don’t dream much myself. Though some of it sounds pretty good. Blue sky you say, that would be cool to see. I read about in school how the sky used to be blue all the time before the bombs fell. New York and London, and the rest ... even Berlin were all supposed to be so beautiful. Man, what a waste. All gone. The nukes ended the war, but they almost ended us too."

     They both paused, each taking a deep breath. Charlies words causing them to remember the history that dominated their lives. The background radiation. The cool summers and long winters, and sometimes a shortage of some foods. A long silence ensued, filled with the cold reality of their present day world that had caused them all to grow up more quickly than earlier generations. The other students were carving and scraping away with their tools, unaware of the pregnant serious silence between the two young men.

    Joseph looked across the room, to where Rachel had her workbench. He could see the beautiful light golden colored skin of her neck, showing where her long brown hair was parted in two as she hunched her shoulders, concentrating on some intense detail of the viola she was carving. I don’t know what it is, but the first moment I saw her, I knew that somehow there was something there, some connection. I would love to ask her out, to maybe kiss her neck, touch her hair, and, god dam . . . but shit, what if she said no? I couldn’t take that, no, I can’t risk it.

     Charlie could see where Joseph was looking, and said, "Maybe Rachel can help you with that kind of thing, with figuring out the dreams? She`s really into dreams and that reincarnation stuff too, like who you were in a past life."

     Mind your own business Charlie, don’t talk to me about Rachel. Shit, I think he likes her too. That pisses me off. Stay the fuck away from her. Joseph had lost his concentration on his work, he was so angry. As he tensed up, the tightening of his body in anger, caused his scars to pull sharply, adding to his cross mood.

     Charlie felt Josephs anger, and tried to ease it now.

     "Hey Joseph, calm down now. I don’t know anything about that stuff, but I can help you about the cold. I have my old coat here, you can have. It’s as good as new and warm as toast. My Mom just sent me a new heavy down jacket."

     "That`s OK! I`ll buy a warmer one this week. Charlie, just leave it, I’ll be fine." Bastard!

     "Hey don`t be dense, here put it on so you can warm up." Charlie handed Joseph his coat. "I have the new one next store in my apartment, I`ll go get it at lunch."

     Joseph though poor had a fierce pride, but he was cold. Charlie was a OK guy but a bit of a snot. A rich kid, and sometimes a real ass. Joseph held the unwanted gift for a while, looking at Charlie, while inwardly fuming, then slowly and painfully stood up, the scars on his back and legs pulling on him as he did so. He knew if he warmed up the scars would not hurt so much, so he finally pulled his arms into the warm jacket and buttoned it up. Slowly sitting down he started to feel a bit better as the thick coat helped to warm his damaged body.

     Joseph was mad at Charlie, but still, he continued to tell him of his strange morning.

     "But then this morning, I had some guy follow me to school. He looked like a homeless guy and smelled like one too. He got almost right in my face, and his eyes were so freaking blue, like pools of dark blue water. But it was weird, cause he sort of scared me in some ways, but in some way he was maybe alright, I don’t know?"

     Charlie leaned in towards Joseph."What do you mean he scared you, but it was alright somehow? That`s totally weird, are you sure you`re okay ?"

     "Well, he was wearing something odd, looked like it was made from real gold. Looked like something I had seen before, sometime . . . maybe a long time ago."

     "Hey, now you`re freaking me out with all this stuff. A homeless guy wearing something made of gold? No way!" Exclaimed Charles as he turned to stare at Joseph. "Joe, why don`t you find a warmer place to live ? That school apartment is still open next door, I think you`re getting sick from this cold damp weather.The rent is cheap, and the heat works. And then nobody can follow you to school, cause you`ll be right here all the time."

     He is really pissing me off this morning. "I don`t have enough money for it Charlie. I only make ten bucks an hour at the store, and my savings need to stretch until I finish school."

     By this time, seeing them huddled in conversation for so long, the school shop teacher, who sat at the end of the row of work benches, was now looking at the two of them rather intently. They both now saw this and started back to work on their respective instruments. After a bit they resumed the conversation, but at a much lower tone.

     "Aren’t you getting an inheritance or something, you mentioned it last week? You’re about to turn twenty-one, is that right? I can take you out to get drunk at one of the private clubs when you do!" Charlie had raised his voice in his excitement at taking Joseph drinking. "You need to quit that stupid grocery job and move in next store, before you freeze to death. And if you took more time in the workshop, and worked less, you could also graduate early."

     "Shush, keep your voice down Charlie. All I have, is just an odd package from some lawyers in California, I am not even sure it is real. The address on it was in English, and inside there was a note I could read from the lawyers saying something about an inheritance, but the big envelope inside was written on in some gobbly-gook. So until I know I have some money, or find out it’s some stupid scam, I need to be careful of what I spend. I don’t know where I would get an inheritance from anyway."

     "Hey maybe the letter is in code, and you’re a heir to some strange exotic kingdom somewhere? And rich as a king to boot!" Exclaimed Charlie.

     Joseph ignored this, and now cutting into the hard rock Maple of his violins scroll, with the razor sharp gouge, worked on carefully refining the narrow V shaped curves of the spiral shape. Joseph then changed the subject. "That field trip to the Shrine to Music collection, are you going, you know it`s this weekend?"

     "For sure, it’s one of the best violin collections in the world! "

     "I was maybe going to skip it to work some extra hours at the store."

     "Are you crazy Joe, it`s a chance of a lifetime.You have to go. You’ll get to see and handle some totally cool violins, ones that you might never have a chance to see, maybe ever again."

     "Okay, okay, I guess I should go, though it`s a long drive to Vermillion, I looked it up in the road atlas. Plus the motel and food costs, I don’t know about it. But I need to finish school with the best appraisal possible from the Director. I have to get a good job so I can have that new surgery I told you about. My scars, they hurt so fucking much, and the pain seems to be getting worse. So I need to see and learn everything I can to build my resume, to land a job in a good violin shop."

     "Hey you need to do it," Charlie added, "to go see that collection, if you are serious about working in a good shop when you graduate!

    And you know that new student Rachel is going? I think she likes you a lot, and you might get a chance to spend more time with her!"

     Joseph raised his voice, so that a number of his fellow students, and the shop teacher turned to look at the two."Just leave it Charlie." Joseph then fiercely whispered. ""Enough with Rachel, and the field trip ! You’re pissing me off !"

     Joseph turned back to his work, his whole body tensing, mad at Charlie. Shit, he is such a bastard sometimes, I wish he would just fuck off and leave me alone.

     "You really should go, and you really need to talk to Rachel too!" Charlie said as he pulled on Josephs old hooded coat. "Do you want to go out and play some hacky-sack on break?"

     "Where, out in that blizzard? Are you nuts" Asked Joseph, very cross at this point.

     "Out on the street where the snow has been plowed. Come on take a break and have some fun, it’s even more fun in the snow, especially with an orange and blue sack!"

     "Naaa, I’m still pretty chilly, I’ll stay here, plus I have a lot to carve still on this scroll." Go fuck off, and never come back, I’m pissed at you.

     "Okay, see you in a bit." Charlie said as he stepped through the door of the workshop.

     Joseph turned back to his work bench and thought about his next steps to complete the violin. First matching the two sides of the scroll so the carving on one side perfectly matched the other side. Then the fine carving of the inside arching of the top plate. The preparations for gluing the bass bar into place. And he thought about Rachel. How she moved her body like a dancer when she chiseled the maple of a violin`s back. First leaning in with her back arched, bracing her long legs against the floor, then cutting into the hard maple with the razor sharp tool, peeling each long curl of maple free to fly into the air, while her long dark brown hair bounced back and forth.

     How with his scars, that he had never had a girlfriend, had never even touched a woman’s body, and likely never would. His eyes were becoming wet with longing and loss for what could never be.

    And that dream, those hands that had reached for me, shit. And a deep chill moved though his body, causing him to shiver, but this time it wasn’t from the cold.

     Joseph was startled from his thoughts, by a loud crashing sound just outside, a car spinning its tires and moving away very fast on the snowy street, and yelling voices coming through the now opened front door. "Someone call an ambulance! Charlies been ht by a car!"