Short Stories

11

Miles Away

The morning wore a yellow gown as the sun rose slowly over the

Mediterranean. The sunlight glistened skipping across the surface of

the water wonderingly and wanton looking for a place to set. Don’s

eyes drifted across the picturesque place and the feeling of sleep left

his face. This was another phase in his dreams where he would

journey with Miles by his side to a new world for them, this old world

called to him. The questions lingered about the unknown: Did Miles

believe in ghosts and drifting spirits? Could a childhood game of finding

random words in a book warn them of terrible events to come?

The aroma of herbs and simmering copper kettles coated the air.

Henna heads were painted with firelight and rested on pillows. The

sky was alive with hues of tangerine and sallow yellows. Don could

be filled with the sight and smell of this new place and he led Miles

through the old cobble stone streets. Don could taste the essence of

the unfamiliar, a new flavor and a different tongue.

Their father was a military officer. He had been stationed away in

the Mediterranean. The country welcomed this family of triplets with

huge warm arms that wrapped around them. The cathedrals called as

Knight and Don marched onto the sidewalks. The ferocious wind

suddenly slapped the side of the stucco house like a giant chastising

hand.

Maybe the wind was embarrassing and had made the sides of the

house red; they were like cheeks that had begun to blush. The red

roses that covered the walls were coloring the edifice like a kiss from

two big red lips.

That day Miles was called to the balcony from below. Don called

CHRISTINA J. EASLEY

12

the knight (Miles) and his excited voice echoed. “Come down here I

have something to show you!” He bellowed full of fervor. He savored

the new taste of freedom. However, Don was not the only one who

called called to come down and enter the small valley that was in the

streets.

There were other passages of verse that were called to Miles on

that day: “Yea thou I walked through the valley of the shadow of death

I fear no evil because thou art with me.” I uttered these few verses

as I thought of the game that we had played (Blind Knight vs. Don)

and the threatening feeling of going into the unknown.

A gust of breath washed over Miles as he walked into the crowd

and felt the presence of others. There whispers enveloped him from

the shadows and the mysterious meaning of their words swelled in his

welcoming ears. Then he heard the awkward chatter of a hard sole

on a slippery street.

Somehow he could feel something, a pleasure and a pain coursing

through his veins. The coarse air stirred through his senses. Miles

followed the sound of these feet chattering like happy children twisting

and turning down the tiny hidden pathways, street. The shadows

covered over him with their shady relief from the searching searing

sunlight. The gusts of heat flared from these dancing feet and Miles

stopped where he stood.

Miles had to run to be close to the breath of excitement that had

drawn him away. He had gotten lost in the crowd and wondered off

alone. Miles was feeling along the walls using them as his guide. Now

he was alone except for the sound of those fluttering feet that echoed

in his ears. Miles drew near. As the woman danced for him, he could

feel the air of her skirt flare and the flip of her hair. She laughed and

he gasped with eager readiness like a young schoolboy awaiting a kiss.

How could he possibly deserve the attention, how could he deserve

this?

She danced and stirred the wind with the lashing and whipping of

her long flowing dress. She filled the air between them with happiness.

THE KNIGHTS OF THEUNOAN

13

Miles’ heart reached out to her and pounded in his chest. He could not

see but he could hear her voice resonating like a bell. Somehow as the

gusts of air flared and enveloped him he fell into her. Miles could feel

her emotions—her past, her present, and maybe her future.

Miles wanted to protect her and to guide, guard, and secure her.

He wanted to draw nearer to the dancer. Her feet beat a steady

purposeful rhythm. He could feel the heat !  Miles could not

see but somehow he knew—there must have been blood red shoes on

her feet!

Miles wanted to reach her somehow but he did not know what to

say or what to do. He had a calling, to help people that he felt were

in danger or in need. This feeling of charity was part of his undying

belief and his creed. For this purpose for some reason he could not

explain, he would willingly bleed, just as The Holy One had bled on the

cross for those strangers that he had never known or lost. Now

everyone could know Him and Miles wanted everyone to know him

too. Miles was know as he was known, to do what he must do.

The knight did not want to be known as a blind boy, helpless and

needy he wanted to be so much more than that. Miles wanted to stop

the evil from taking away the innocence and happiness of youth for

him and others. He wanted to be free, instead of looked at with pity.

They had a special kind of relationship. Some would say

that the Knight was the opposite of Don and that these nicknames were

the symbolic of their kinship, their twin-ship.

The Knight was dark and gloomy, dismal and decimated,

destroyed by the blindness that makes Miles’ path impossible to travel

alone. Don was a valley of possibility with the light of the Word leading

his path. The twin boys were opposite but the same, a paradox in

words and images. Some people would see their relationship in a

different way comparing them to Cain and Abel.

CHRISTINA J. EASLEY

14

It seemed illogical that the Knight would be the one who

could see, and understand the unseen impossibility. Don spoke to

Miles in an askance expression that lit the once silent room with

wonder. He demanded something from his brother.

“What made you walk away like that? What made you want to

leave, go and leave me (go me) behind out on your own? What made you walk away

into the strange unknown place Miles? What made you walk away and

be independent like a wild mare or stallion roaming from the herd?

What made you walk away? It seems to me that you would be scared

to stand up for yourself or be by yourself, it seems to me that it would

be like a nightmare.”

“If it was up to me everyone would be able to walk away anytime

they felt the need. If it was up to me I would be able to see beautiful

things instead of the cruelty of the world that forces its way into my

nightmares. If it was up to me the games that we play would be in

reality instead of fantasy.”

Later on they journeyed back to the kitchen where the family

settled into their routine of dinner together. Their father came home

and loosened his tie. The uniform was almost like a heavy burden now.

He had done his service for the day. The father looked over at the son

and wondered what would become of him.

“Don do ya think you’ll ever want to go into the military?” The

question was not an easy one. Don stopped dead in his tracks and

pondered whether he should reply. The ideas dizzied his head but he

would not run away from the issue he would stand his ground and

answer the question instead. “It depends. Would I end up like you or

would I end up dead?”

This was a war that had been raging between the two of them. The

son used words and expressions to aim arrows at his father. His father

shot back with one glance. This battle of glares and gestures went on

while Don was under attack. They battled like two boxers in a bout,

but they knew when to hold back and how to act.

The meal was made of food from the country that we were staying

THE KNIGHTS OF THEUNOAN

15

in. They sat down to the table. The green vegetables that they ate were

a lot like the roses that grew up the side of the house. They were over

grown and had out stretched their boundaries like a massive tree

whose roots had destroyed the sidewalk.

When Miles had walked back to the house alone that day he had

memorized the bumps and potholes in the sidewalk. These were the

obstacles that he would have to surpass. The trees that lined the

streets had reached down to tickle the tip of his nose like a kiss from

a kind aunt.

As Miles made his way past the group of children playing he heard

them laugh and wondered what they were saying. He wondered what

it would be like to be among them. He was so full of envy that he could

hardly speak. He snatched a few words away from the whispers of

the shadows while the children were playing hide and go seek.

The screen door had wined when he opened it. Hearing the sound

of his mother’s voice was a welcome comfort to his senses. Don had

been in the house waiting to talk with him. There was also the presence

of another male. It was a deliveryman, who had come to deliver a gift,

a present. My mother had signed papers of acceptance with her

signature expressing her character. The big ‘C’ of her middle name

wrapped around the other tiny letters as if it were protecting them.

The unusual spelling of her middle name stayed in people’s

memory as a mystery, but her first name was easy enough to

understand, Karen. Karen was the one who cared for her family, and

treated both sons with a simple sort of equality. Miles had written in

his journal that day and recalled all of the events capturing them on

paper before they could pass away.

Even in his blindness he could still remember how to form the

letters of his name and caress the page in the blurred darkness. This

Knight (Miles) had learned to write in the days before he lost his sight.

Sometimes he prayed that the son would make him see in the same

way that he made the blind see in the ancient times. He realized that

the laying on of hands was only real to those who believe.