Fields of Barley
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Chapter 1:- The Beginning...
The fact that Mark Castleton had died did not stop him from bemoaning the new day’s responsibilities. ‘I’ve got to make sure to pick up the car at Ted’s’, thought Mark. ‘It’s been there all week and I can’t keep telling him I’m waiting for my check to clear.’ However, the sudden remembrance of a promise made to his mother flashed in Mark’s mind and immediately his car problems paled in comparison. Inwardly he cursed himself at his foolishness. He knew he should never have agreed to paint her garage, and, as usual, his wife was right. Maybe today would be the day to start following his wife’s advice. After all, one shouldn’t say no to a woman 7 ½ months pregnant.
“What to do today?” Mark said out loud to the empty space that surrounded him. But today, no darkness greeted him. It was lighter, much lighter. Normally a change such as this in his daily routine sent the self-admitted ‘worry freak’ into near convulsions. On this particular morning the light did not cause panic, but it produced a warm smothering blanket of comfort that enveloped him, reassured him, and brought a calm that spoke to his soul.
This calming effect changed his outlook on the dreaded painting project. After all, his mother was in her 60’s and she did put her only son through college—even after he made what his mother (the family matriarch) considered “a major blunder.” The blunder was getting married before earning his degree. If Mark received a quarter every time his mother said, “You should have waited until after college to get married,” he could forgo college and live independently wealthy all his days. ‘And,’ he thought, ‘I married Janie because I wanted to, not because of what others wanted me to do.’
Mark’s mind slowly regained consciousness. Cobwebs of confusion melted away and his eyes met his new day. “I guess I’d better get going,” he managed to say as he slowly sat up. Even thoughts of what other people think of him could not darken the brightness that greeted Mark that morning.
As had happened thousands of times before, Mark prepared to greet the new day. The morning rituals that we as humans do without thinking started to kick in. Mark was on autopilot as his new day began. However, had he been more alert, the realization that today was not in any way, shape, or form what one would call a “normal” day would have caused his autopilot to malfunction. As it turned out, the autopilot performed admirably.
Mark got out of bed, and the second he did so, the bed disappeared, but then again, Mark somehow knew the bed had never been there in the first place. Once again this tear in the fabric of reality did not disturb him in the least. It was as normal as anything had ever been in his life. His mind told him he needed to get dressed, but he was already dressed in clothes that were not actually there. They existed but had not relevance to him. For the first time since his awakening Mark looked around at his new environment.
He appeared to be in a room. Even though the room was rather large, it put him at ease; it made him comfortable, content. There was color in the room, bright, peaceful hues that did not hurt his eyes when he looked at what could best be described as walls.
Slowly, ever so slowly the brain inside Mark Castleton’s head began to think and logic came into the picture. In Mark’s life logic always arrived and occasionally obliterated tranquil moments, sending potential happiness in a million different directions. But Mark’s mind was quick to note logic had saved him from not only potential happy outcomes, but it also prevented real emotional disasters. There were times in Mark’s life when he ignored logical thought only to be thrown from great heights to the jagged rocks of despair. His experience taught him that when he ventured through life without logic, the resulting pain was too great, too intense for his fragile heart to bear. After all, logic was the only thing that brought comfort to him when his heart was broken several years ago. It was then he realized he had for a brief moment abandoned logic and he paid a heavy price. No, logic was needed, it was important; it was a cruel mistress that had become a central force in even his smallest thoughts. He would forever invite—no demand—its companionship to remain with him. It’s how he’d lived his life.
Logic came. Logic seeped into his consciousness. Logic began to triumph as always.
“What is going on here? What are you doing here? What is this place?” Each question’s importance grew in intensity until a single conclusion resounded in Mark’s head. “Something big has happened.” Mark said out loud, hearing his audible voice only the third time since this “something big” thing actually happened.
As Mark mulled over this realization, his eye noticed a change in the room. Instinctively he moved his head to the direction of the change and he saw what he believed to be a door open at the far end of the space. Once the door reached the apex of its movement, a figure appeared in the frame. Someone was coming in and would be with him shortly. As the figure moved toward him, walking slowly and deliberately, it brought with it a welcomed sense of peace and warmth.
Suddenly logical thought broke through and Mark felt terrified. He was in a very strange place, alone until now, and someone, or something, was coming toward him for the obvious purpose of joining him. His logical mind was winning and Mark felt this effect scaring him to death.
Ever since Mark awoke, and he had no idea how long he had been in this room alone, the only voice he heard was his own. Now a second voice filled the space. “Hello Mark; don’t be afraid.”
It was a woman’s voice. The clear tones and comforting words smashed the wall his mind was building to protect himself. Logical thought immediately vanished from his brain; it simply could not compete with this woman’s voice. Logic had to re-group, to re-assess the situation. Mark knew, however, the his logical mind would be back.
The woman spoke again saying simply, “Mark.” At this point she had crossed the void separating the two, stopping within a few feet of him, her face focusing only on him. “How are you?”
The question hung in the air begging a response, but he was powerless to answer the question. Looking down he saw the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her straight blond hair shimmered like gold wheat in the light and fell weightless on her shoulders. Her deep green eyes pieced his soul, revealing every secret, every pain, every joy he ever had. Standing in front of him was a woman who knew him better than he knew himself.
The clothes she wore were similar to his, only hers were what could only be described as appropriately feminine. It was her beauty that continued to overwhelm him. He couldn’t stop staring at her and as he did so, he saw something familiar about her. In fact, she reminded him of his wife, Janie, but this stranger with whom he felt an instant kinship was taller, and no one in Janie’s family had green eyes, at least no one he knew.
The silence between the two lingered for what could have been hours, and yet, it may have only lasted seconds. Time did not seem to have any significance in this incredibly strange room. At last, Mark found himself opening his mouth, pushing air past his vocal cords, until he heard sound emitting from his throat. “Fine,” he said. Of all the things on which his mind could have focused, he asked himself this: ‘this woman clearly knows my every thought. She told me not to be afraid when I was terrified, and she knew when my logical mind abandoned me. She certainly knows how I’m doing.’
Upon hearing his response to her question, this woman tilted her head slightly to the left and smiled, her golden hair shifting in perfect unison until it came to rest in a new position on her shoulders. The smile melted Mark’s already affected heart. He was hers.
“Mark,” she said, her voice keeping him in her control. “My name is Anne-Lisa and I’m here to help you.” Mark knew her name even before she said it and he realized he’d known her name forever. “Please sit down.” He followed her example and slowly lowered himself to rest upon a bench, the most comfortable bench he had ever experienced-a bench that was not there moments earlier.
The fact that Mark Castleton had died did not stop him from bemoaning the new day’s responsibilities. ‘I’ve got to make sure to pick up the car at Ted’s’, thought Mark. ‘It’s been there all week and I can’t keep telling him I’m waiting for my check to clear.’ However, the sudden remembrance of a promise made to his mother flashed in Mark’s mind and immediately his car problems paled in comparison. Inwardly he cursed himself at his foolishness. He knew he should never have agreed to paint her garage, and, as usual, his wife was right. Maybe today would be the day to start following his wife’s advice. After all, one shouldn’t say no to a woman 7 ½ months pregnant.
“What to do today?” Mark said out loud to the empty space that surrounded him. But today, no darkness greeted him. It was lighter, much lighter. Normally a change such as this in his daily routine sent the self-admitted ‘worry freak’ into near convulsions. On this particular morning the light did not cause panic, but it produced a warm smothering blanket of comfort that enveloped him, reassured him, and brought a calm that spoke to his soul.
This calming effect changed his outlook on the dreaded painting project. After all, his mother was in her 60’s and she did put her only son through college—even after he made what his mother (the family matriarch) considered “a major blunder.” The blunder was getting married before earning his degree. If Mark received a quarter every time his mother said, “You should have waited until after college to get married,” he could forgo college and live independently wealthy all his days. ‘And,’ he thought, ‘I married Janie because I wanted to, not because of what others wanted me to do.’
Mark’s mind slowly regained consciousness. Cobwebs of confusion melted away and his eyes met his new day. “I guess I’d better get going,” he managed to say as he slowly sat up. Even thoughts of what other people think of him could not darken the brightness that greeted Mark that morning.
As had happened thousands of times before, Mark prepared to greet the new day. The morning rituals that we as humans do without thinking started to kick in. Mark was on autopilot as his new day began. However, had he been more alert, the realization that today was not in any way, shape, or form what one would call a “normal” day would have caused his autopilot to malfunction. As it turned out, the autopilot performed admirably.
Mark got out of bed, and the second he did so, the bed disappeared, but then again, Mark somehow knew the bed had never been there in the first place. Once again this tear in the fabric of reality did not disturb him in the least. It was as normal as anything had ever been in his life. His mind told him he needed to get dressed, but he was already dressed in clothes that were not actually there. They existed but had not relevance to him. For the first time since his awakening Mark looked around at his new environment.
He appeared to be in a room. Even though the room was rather large, it put him at ease; it made him comfortable, content. There was color in the room, bright, peaceful hues that did not hurt his eyes when he looked at what could best be described as walls.
Slowly, ever so slowly the brain inside Mark Castleton’s head began to think and logic came into the picture. In Mark’s life logic always arrived and occasionally obliterated tranquil moments, sending potential happiness in a million different directions. But Mark’s mind was quick to note logic had saved him from not only potential happy outcomes, but it also prevented real emotional disasters. There were times in Mark’s life when he ignored logical thought only to be thrown from great heights to the jagged rocks of despair. His experience taught him that when he ventured through life without logic, the resulting pain was too great, too intense for his fragile heart to bear. After all, logic was the only thing that brought comfort to him when his heart was broken several years ago. It was then he realized he had for a brief moment abandoned logic and he paid a heavy price. No, logic was needed, it was important; it was a cruel mistress that had become a central force in even his smallest thoughts. He would forever invite—no demand—its companionship to remain with him. It’s how he’d lived his life.
Logic came. Logic seeped into his consciousness. Logic began to triumph as always.
“What is going on here? What are you doing here? What is this place?” Each question’s importance grew in intensity until a single conclusion resounded in Mark’s head. “Something big has happened.” Mark said out loud, hearing his audible voice only the third time since this “something big” thing actually happened.
As Mark mulled over this realization, his eye noticed a change in the room. Instinctively he moved his head to the direction of the change and he saw what he believed to be a door open at the far end of the space. Once the door reached the apex of its movement, a figure appeared in the frame. Someone was coming in and would be with him shortly. As the figure moved toward him, walking slowly and deliberately, it brought with it a welcomed sense of peace and warmth.
Suddenly logical thought broke through and Mark felt terrified. He was in a very strange place, alone until now, and someone, or something, was coming toward him for the obvious purpose of joining him. His logical mind was winning and Mark felt this effect scaring him to death.
Ever since Mark awoke, and he had no idea how long he had been in this room alone, the only voice he heard was his own. Now a second voice filled the space. “Hello Mark; don’t be afraid.”
It was a woman’s voice. The clear tones and comforting words smashed the wall his mind was building to protect himself. Logical thought immediately vanished from his brain; it simply could not compete with this woman’s voice. Logic had to re-group, to re-assess the situation. Mark knew, however, the his logical mind would be back.
The woman spoke again saying simply, “Mark.” At this point she had crossed the void separating the two, stopping within a few feet of him, her face focusing only on him. “How are you?”
The question hung in the air begging a response, but he was powerless to answer the question. Looking down he saw the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her straight blond hair shimmered like gold wheat in the light and fell weightless on her shoulders. Her deep green eyes pieced his soul, revealing every secret, every pain, every joy he ever had. Standing in front of him was a woman who knew him better than he knew himself.
The clothes she wore were similar to his, only hers were what could only be described as appropriately feminine. It was her beauty that continued to overwhelm him. He couldn’t stop staring at her and as he did so, he saw something familiar about her. In fact, she reminded him of his wife, Janie, but this stranger with whom he felt an instant kinship was taller, and no one in Janie’s family had green eyes, at least no one he knew.
The silence between the two lingered for what could have been hours, and yet, it may have only lasted seconds. Time did not seem to have any significance in this incredibly strange room. At last, Mark found himself opening his mouth, pushing air past his vocal cords, until he heard sound emitting from his throat. “Fine,” he said. Of all the things on which his mind could have focused, he asked himself this: ‘this woman clearly knows my every thought. She told me not to be afraid when I was terrified, and she knew when my logical mind abandoned me. She certainly knows how I’m doing.’
Upon hearing his response to her question, this woman tilted her head slightly to the left and smiled, her golden hair shifting in perfect unison until it came to rest in a new position on her shoulders. The smile melted Mark’s already affected heart. He was hers.
“Mark,” she said, her voice keeping him in her control. “My name is Anne-Lisa and I’m here to help you.” Mark knew her name even before she said it and he realized he’d known her name forever. “Please sit down.” He followed her example and slowly lowered himself to rest upon a bench, the most comfortable bench he had ever experienced-a bench that was not there moments earlier.
