Sins of the Father: Prologue

Prologue


      Rain fell over the town, and snow dusted the foothills of the Appalachians.  Throughout the evening, the wind continued to howl through the pine forests, bringing torrents of rain and snow throughout.  The dusting on the foothills became dunes of coldness, wrapping the vale in a shawl of gray. 
      The townspeople bustled from house to house, trying to escape the oncoming storm, unearthing winter tools that had not been used in generations.  The snow fell.  Children within the houses looked out onto the sweeping landscape, hoping the snow would stay, allowing a once-in-a-lifetime event to occur: a snow day.  Twilight blushed in the clouded sky, sending shadows scattering back to their owners.  Lights in the houses throughout the town blinked out, as parents tucked their restless children back into their beds and then retired as well.  The snow grew light, but the wind remained, sweeping the snowy dander into unused corners of the valley. 
      The night wore on.  A man stood on one of the many surrounding hills looking down, through the pines, into the town of Jackson, Alabama.  His eyes, dark and intense, reflected the snow on the hills like diamonds.  Samuel, his bones strained with age and stress, strode proudly with purpose to the edge of the wood.  The edges of his dark trench coat rippled in the wind, yet the cold never reached his body.  His loose-fitting pants and crisp, white, yet threadbare shirt stood out in the dark night.  Searching the valley below him, Samuel’s mind recalled the reason for his being there.  Unable to remain silent, he began to mumble to himself. 
      Breaking the silence with words than he had spoken before, Samuel whispered to the night,“Beautiful.  Always is.  Every night, every city, always different.”
      Unknowingly, Samuel no longer stood alone.  From the shadows of the pine copse, a striking man, all in blinding white, moved unerringly through the forest.  His blond hair, in timeless curls, hung around his shoulders framing his aquiline, youthful face and deep blue eyes.  Those blue eyes, clouded in pain and sorrow, looked at Samuel's.
    Samuel continued to stare into the valley below, unable, or not wanting, to see the beautiful man that stood behind him. Samuel’s lips curled into a smile, smoothing lines on his face but never touching his eyes. “They make everything so beautiful.  Pity,” he said without a trace of his smile, “it will all be destroyed.”
    From the town of Jackson below them, a church bell toned the hour.  Suddenly, Samuel’s eyes widened, showing their bloodshot whites. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fell, writhing on his hands and knees.  Samuel felt the pain within his soul, as the fire within him burned and purified every inch of his being.  Back arching, face twisted in an agonizing caricature of humanity, the older man gasped and collapsed into the tall grass.   
        As suddenly as it came, the pain left.  Samuel, his lungs reaching for air, slowly stood up, slightly stooped as if aged drastically in the previous moments.  “Another Day, Another Death,” he rasped.  “So many deaths, the fire will never purify  me.”
    The wind picked up and tossed raindrops towards where Samuel had stood: in his place, only the night.  The only man remaining was the quiet, youthful man in white.  Stepping forward, he looked down at where the older man had been. “Oh, Samuel,” he begged to the air. “There is still hope.  There is still time.”
    The air cold and dry, the last vestiges of the storm evaporating into the night, felt the rebirth of the day only a few hours ahead. A new day was just beginning.