A Matter of Faith: Chapter 1-11

Magic door

Friday.

It is time for another piece of A matter of faith.

And today’s piece is the final one.

There will not be more piece. A long journey to Chapter 2 that if you want to read it… you know what you have to do.

Read the end of Chapter 1 right now.

Dare to open the door that never was there (I know what I’m saying, and you’ll know too)

Do it now:

Definitely I’m going crazy.

The thought crossed the mind of Faith with the same ease that a seagull flied in front of a window. After getting off the bus she had gone to her house. She turned at the same corners as always, avoided the usual bumps and walked on autopilot in order to think about her own matters. However, a diversion had blown the fuse for the automatic and Faith set on manual mode.

Sam was next to her porch, just below a lamppost. But Faith did not know him. Black shoes, black pants, white shirt, knee-length coat, why not say it, also black, smoking cigarette in his right hand. Maybe something suspicious, but it was Los Angeles, the weird staff was normal in that city. What made Faith’s beautiful eyes squinting to make sure that she was not hallucinating was his hair. The man’s hair was on fire… and he did not even move!

He was just waiting quietly and smoking.

But the idea about Faith going crazy didn’t just cross her mind. It settled, nested and laid eggs on the windowsill of her mind. As she approached, a little slower than she was coming on, the optical effect of the flames was dissipating. It was only hair moving. A blonde hair as shiny as gold and fire the air rocked and rose in waves. The light from the lamp impinged on it directly and forcefully reflected toward the outside of the halo of the bulb. Maybe she was not going crazy. If it wasn’t for the…

 

 

Damn!

…Red eyes?! Faith winced at the sight. A car passed in front of her at the moment and she could pretend it was due to the shock of seeing the vehicle pass. The question of whether she was going bonkers again crossed her mind at the same speed as the car. The little fat, good-natured and careless dwarf that Faith’s logical depart-mental manager within the inner ear was whispered: It was just a reflection of the headlights, like the flash of the cameras.

Everything would have gone according to plan, but the intuition depart-mental manager, another thinner dwarf, more restless and more inclined to a frenetic activity, muttered to the other inner ear, at the same time: Do not trust. I think there is something wrong with that guy.

Both messages went through the tangled brain of Faith and collided right in the middle, causing such confusion, that she could make a decision just when she was next to her portal…and to the stranger.

“Faith, right?” Sam asked expelling the words hidden in smoke.

“Wrong,” her intuitive part of her mind answered. But this time it did it strong enough to escape the cries of the inner drum of the ear canal, get through the Eustachian tube and come out through the mouth.

“I know exactly who you are, Miss Wright.”

“Then, I guess you just asked to say something,” she replied and the irony in her mouth overflowed as easy as the smoke of his cigarette rose into the sky.

It was something she couldn’t help since childhood. However, the animosity she felt for this man was not natural. There was something strange that she did not like at all. Yes, he was attractive. She could not deny it. Yes, he had a bewitching and seductive smile, but at the same time seemed dangerous, as if behind those perfectly soft and symmetrical lips, sharp teeth were hidden a feline predator ready to tear her apart at the very moment she looked away. He put the cigarette in his mouth and when opened, Faith could not help but flinch in place. Perhaps this happened because an inner voice was screaming, Run, you fool, run. But the interior of Faith had always been full of voices shouting, and this time seemed to have all gathered to have a party. Among them was the voice of curiosity, which seemed to have won the struggle for the karaoke microphone. So Faith stayed where she was.

“We’ve been looking for you, Miss Wright,” Sam said after a puff of his cigarette.

“When you say, we, I just expect you’re not talking about you and your… little friend, because I have no time for horny lunatics.”

Sam smiled. It was one of those smiles easy to translate, because its meaning was overflowing everywhere, so much, that almost seemed to have eaten a thousand fortune cookies with the message “Not funny.” This however, seemed to make Faith smile.

“You must come with me,” Sam said parking his smile aside.

“I don’t think so,” Faith replied going to her building.

Before she could give more than one step, Sam grabbed her arm and stopped her. The touch of his skin made her sick. A wave of disgust broke where he was grabbing her and spread throughout her body, leaving behind a nasty hangover feeling. His touch burned as infectious itchy hives. And Faith was scared.

“Let me put it another way,” Sam said forcing her to look at him, “You’re coming with me.”

There were no cars on the street, so this time she could not blame the spotlight. Until then Faith thought that “you have shiny eyes” was just an expression, but the incandescent glow that flamed on inside the iris of the stranger gave it a new meaning.

A voice cried a “told you so” out, sharp and spiteful in Faith’s head, but she had no time to argue with herself. Accustomed to work in a hospital, she had to learn to defend herself from drunken people, crazy and hysterical family. Years of experience in self-defence focused on a unique, but effective, kick in the crotch.

Faith ran with all her forces, coming from a double shift at the hospital they were amazingly fast. Finding the house keys inside the bag while she ran wildly was not an easy task. But the need create the ability, so even though her hands were shaking, she grabbed the keys, hit in the lock and turned the key in a time more than acceptable. However, just as it exists in the minds of children the strange belief that only under the blankets of his bed they are protected from the monsters outside, as they become adult, this belief extends to the walls of their own homes but not to the portal of the building.

Faith ran without looking back. She began her ascent of stairs jumping in pairs. She lost a couple of seconds when she leaned over the railing to look down. The front door flew out of nowhere and slammed into the base of the stairs. Faith’s analytical mind made a quick calculation of the force required to perform such a feat and concluded, “get hell out of here” as fast as a calculator can add two plus two.

She could hardly breathe. The air entering her lungs looked like a group of tourists on a quick visit to a museum with no interest in going through the gift shop, but she still could smell the suffocating aroma of something burning. The curious part of her mind was dying to know what it was, but that part was subject, gagged and threatened with death from all parts of her brain, which encouraged their owner to run, like spectators of a racetrack with a winning bet in their hands.

She got to her apartment and shut the door behind her, then, she dropped to the ground pushing her back entrance. Her heart beat at the same pace like a frantic techno rave. And the strong beats in her temples produced almost the same headache.

The burning smell was not gone, but seeped under the door.

Someone came into the hall. Faith recognized her right away. It was the unmistakable voice of Mrs Soto. Unmistakable because her tone was so sharp that it did not break the glass, it just melted it. It was said that Mrs Soto cried so much because her husband was deaf, but some suspected that Mr Soto suffered deafness soon after marriage. And as a wise grandmother would say, “That was sobering.”

“What the hell…?” Mrs Soto said. But the phrase was left half. Something had frightened her so much that she could not continue.

Mrs Soto’s silence made Faith feel an even greater fear. She had never seen Mrs Soto shut up about anything. There was no mailman, neighbour, dog, cat or public official, with or without a gun, which could restrain her banshee scream. Something apocalyptic was needed to keep Ms Stewart silent.  But the silence lasted only a moment. The cry from Mrs Soto sounded louder and louder as a hand crank horn that, during the Second World War would have gotten all the inhabitants running to depart from their homes in search of a bomb shelter. But this time Mrs Soto only managed to awaken Faith from her slumber of panic.

She did not know what made her think that she’d be safe inside the apartment, but now there was no turning back. She stood up and ran to her room. She kept a baseball bat behind the door for occasions like that. Los Angeles was not New York, but it was worth it to wield a bat. She grabbed it, but while looking at herself in the mirror, she felt less safe.

More shouts came from the aisle.

She heard a door opening at the entrance and, immediately afterwards, the blow to the closing and the sound of approaching footsteps on the wooden floor of her room. She grabbed the bat tighter. Not because she wanted to hit harder, but because her hands were shaking so badly that she feared that in the first movement the bat would fall to the ground before she could use it properly. She moved one step to the right to stand behind the door. Her weight on the old wooden floor creaked and she stop breathing. The steps stopped out. Faith imagined a head that was turning toward her room. He had heard it. She was sure of it.

The man approached the door and pushed it carefully. It was at that moment when Faith closed her eyes and tried to put all her forces in a single blow and hit. She felt that the piece of wood crashed into something and that something uttered a cry of pain and fell to the ground. She lifted the bat and opened her eyes instinctively ready to drop it again.

“What the hell?” the man on the floor shouted.

“Who the hell are you?” Faith asked, stopping the bat in mid-air.

Loke was there, protecting his injured arm with his hand.

“I am a friend,” Loke shouted again turning his body to protect himself from another hit.

“And I have to believe you, becauseeeee?”

“Well…Hummm,” Loke looked up and realized he did not know what to say. He had slipped into a strange house and had been surprised. Luckily, he was saved by the yell. The real menace was still out there.

Faith turned her head frightened by the howling of the hall and Loke took to grab the bat.

She jumped back and stood behind the bed, still looking at Loke.

“What was that?” Loke said, standing up.

“I have no idea. There was a man in the doorway waiting for me. But he was not a man. Het was… I do not know what he was.”

“We have to go,” Loke said quickly glancing at the door of the entrance.

“You think?”

“He is coming for you.”

“I haven’t noticed, thanks for telling me off.”

“Seriously, this is not a game.”

“Yeah, really? Until now I was having hell of a day.”

Loke threw the bat down and went into the living room.

“I guess it runs in the family,” he told himself.

Faith heard those words and for a moment forgot the screams of the hall and went in pursuit of Loke.

“What did you say?” she asked, grabbing him by the arm that had beaten previously.

Loke moaned in pain and got released at a stretch. He looked at the walls of the apartment quickly without paying the slightest attention to the question. The cries of the hall had ceased and have been replaced by absolute silence. And that was even scarier.

“Is there a back door?” Loke asked looking straight into her eyes.

“What do you think? This is no palace. Seriously, what did you say before?”

Loke looked toward the door and saw the shadow of feet. Faith followed his gaze and saw it too, and suddenly, the fear returned to her body at once.

Loke grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the far wall.

“What are we going to do?” Faith asked.

“Shut up.”

The silence was broken by a small crack. The door was bulging. Wood chips had jumped from the frame and the hinges had begun to glow while the wood burned around it.

“What are we going to do?” Faith asked again.

“Shut the fuck up,” Loke repeated, “We’ve to wait.”

“Wait what?” He wipes his feet on the carpet?

The wooden door looked like a balloon about to burst. And so was the dam of patience that Loke had been building since he had met Faith.

“There are Rules to follow, you know? This works only at the last second,” Loke exasperated. “Now shut up and go. I’m saving your ass.”

“Where the hell did this door come fr…?” she tried to say, but Loke pushed her into the door that had just appeared mysteriously in the wall of her room and closed it behind them just at the moment in which the entrance of the apartment exploded.

As the Rules dictated, just at the last second.

 

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Here ends the first chapter of  “A Matter of Faith”

I sincerely hope you enjoyed it and it had fulfilled your expectations.

Where does the mysterious door take? Who are the Sisters? Who Loke is going to visit? What Three Kings do when it is not Christmas? Will the texts of, Warrick: the teenage wizard’s books keep on changing? Who are the real parents of Faith?
Do not miss the next exciting chapter in which any of the above questions will be answered.

More action, more sex and more violence.

And even a nuclear explosion.

 

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If you liked it, you know what to do next:

 

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