He Waits
Chapter 1
Hello all and welcome to chapter one of my upcoming book. Months ago I posted a rough draft, there have been several changes since then. The book is complete and now it’s time for the slow part.
The edits.
My goal is to release one chapter every other week.
Hope you all enjoy. Would love to hear your thoughts.
Thanks for the time.
-D.B. Taylor.
The bell chimed as the door opened. Tobin flipped the window sign. It tapped against the glass.
He smiled at the simple sight.
A chilled wind hit him and met the shop’s warmth. Warmth and cold wrestled like contentious children.
Before him, thick fog painted across cobblestone streets. The stones shone under purple stars. The husks of tall buildings leaned toward the shop. Timber bones pushing through stone carcasses.
The sight heavied his glee.
Rounded the point of his smile.
His frog, Robertto, jumped on his foot. Tobin’s gaze remained outside. Remnants of some sad story. The describing words felt personal. His frown deepened.
“For now. Wait. Don’t let the darkness pull you.”
Ghost words hit him hard. He blinked, gripped the door.
He gave one final glance at the empty street. The wind parted his hair, bent his beard. Green eyes studied the fog, the wreckage, the sky.
Inside, a kettle sat warming on a burner. Coffee rested beside it. The kettle trembled, whistled.
He whistled back, a melody to scare off the sadness.
He walked toward the stove. The door closed.
Night crept through busted roof seams. Purple stars peeked through. He found himself stuck watching. Such beauty.
He swore they blinked. As purple as her eyes.
“Adeline.” He stared. “Where are you?”
His eyes began to water.
His whistling became louder. Smile farther stretched.
“Sir?”
The door shut. He hadn’t heard it open.
Tobin turned with open arms. “Hello, madam.”
His voice bounced in the quiet room. She flinched and stumbled back. Roberto croaked on his foot.
“My apologies.” Tobin held up his hands.
“I should know not to be so startling. Where are my manners?” He rushed about lifting books, mugs, a single shoe at the base of the stairs.
He turned, hoping for a smile.
The woman stood unmoving. Pale as the moon overhead.
“Eh. A joke.” He coughed. “A poor one.” He pressed his chest. “Welcome to my shop.”
He offered his hand. She did not take it.
She stood tall and narrow in a black gown. A prayer bead woven through fingers. The hood and white cloth ate at her face.
“What’s your name?” he asked, turning to the ground coffee. To the bubbling water.
“Daniela.”
“Daniela.” He chewed at the name. Eager to remember it.
Her eyes stayed on the boiling pot. Deer eyes. Afraid to blink.
“You must excuse me, Daniela. I am low on ingredients. How do you take your coffee?”
She looked at him, then away. Like a dizzy child searching for balance.
“Yes.” Her face blank.
“Black it is.”
She sat. The chair took her weight like it had waited. The smell of coffee and old wood filled the space.
“I am glad to hear it.” Tobin removed the kettle.
With sacred composure, Tobin poured the water over the bed of coffee. The coffee bloomed, stretched as if thankful and thirsty. Water fell in a thin, timid stream. It pooled and sank and rose again. He poured in circles.
I knight you a member of our most sacred order. Protection of all realms. Of all worlds. Do you commit yourself to Kurious and await his return?
I do.
Adeline leaned. Front row. She was all he could see.
Coffee fell like soft rain into the dripper below. Then, taking two cups, he rinsed them with hot water and then tossed it out.
He waited. The coffee took its time. It finished. He filled both cups, bowing low to make certain Daniela got a little more.
“Here you are, Daniela.” He gave the same smile that old man had given him.
“How lost I was,” he thought, and struggled to do so.
He shook his head and sat.
Daniela did the same.
She watched the steam. It twisted like pale fire.
“I died.” The words came fast.
Tobin sat and blew across his cup. The house held still.
“I died,” she said again, stronger.
“Yes.”
Mist slipped through the broken roof and drifted low.
“I died,” she said, softer now. Like she was testing the shape of it.
“You died.”
She drank.
“Wow. This is good.” She smiled. The coffee soothing wounds. Wisping her away.
Then the cup rattled on the table.
“Fire. Oh God. Morville.”
Tobin growled at that name. Always that name.
“They burned the church. Father Valentine. Gasoline. The smell. The taste of fire.” Her eyes hit Tobin’s, wide. Her mouth gaped.
Tobin clenched his jaw at that name. Eager to remain calm.
She folded into herself and wept. Each tear bounced her shoulders like stormy waves.
“Not all leave gentle,” Tobin said.
“What is this place? Heaven?”
He laughed. “Coffee that good?!”
A smile fought through her tears.
“Truth is, I do not know.” Tobin stared off at the window. That dark, ruined place peeked through the curtain. He swore he could hear it whisper.
“Some in-between place.”
She drank again. Searching him.
“I cannot bear it. Oh God, help me?”
She began to panic. Most do.
Tobin breathed loudly, slowly. After a moment she followed suit. He watched the twisting of her face as the memories dropped heavy and without restraint.
How jealous he felt.
The tears. The puffing of her eyes. Quick movements like a bird.
His jealousy melted at her anguish.
“What is the matter?” he asked.
“I am dead. What do you mean, what is the matter?”
“I am sorry.” Tobin traced the rim of the mug. He held her eyes; she looked away.
“They are dead. All of them. Why are they not here with me? They should be here with me.”
“Breathe,” he said. She did, frantic and without rhythm. He gently grabbed her hand.
“With me. In.”
She breathed in, angry at first.
“Out.”
She breathed out because she had to. The exhale hissed like fire.
“In. Out.”
“Sir, I have sinned. I have nothing good left in me.”
He took her weight.
“Why do you say this?”
She sobbed harder.
They sipped between silences. The stars pulsed purple. The fog floated down. A pleasant chill held the room.
“I heard the warnings. Morville’s arrived. Morville’s arrived. By the same old fool who belted those words weekly. Lorain always thought we should believe him. That at some point he’d be right.”
“You feel it was your fault?”
She pulled at her hair. Rubbed at her hands.
“Drink,” he said.
She did.
“Have you known such violence before?”
“No. Never.”
“Suppose it had been your friend who dismissed the warning.”
“She would not have. Even after repeated lies. She would not have.”
“Suppose she had.”
She closed her eyes.
“If it were her, what would you think of her?”
She was quiet.
“A farmer wakes to warm air his whole life. One day the frost comes and kills his crop. Is he a fool or just ignorant?”
“Ignorant is not much better.”
“It is better. It is innocent. The wise man is the man who knows he’s a fool. The fool is one who thinks he’s wise.”
“Then I am just a fool.” A bitter laugh. She rubbed her eye.
“Welcome,” he said. “I am too.”
She looked around the empty shop.
“So you don’t know what this place is. Why I’m here and others aren’t?”
Tobin shook his head, finishing the last of the coffee.
“You don’t know?”
“No,” he said with false joy, as if he too didn’t covet answers.
“I thought you would lead me somewhere better.”
“No.”
“Then why do you smile?”
“Because I do not know.”
Silence filled the room.
“What do I do now?” she asked.
“You go out that door and you find your road.”
The stars pulsed three slow times.
“Now?” she said.
“No,” he said, smiling.
“Now we finish our coffee.”
This was very soothing to read, I do hope you continue on ♥️
Great start to a book! Looking forward to more!