Hushed and poised near his fireplace’s large wooden mantel, Luther inspected a display of impressive weaponry: guns, swords, spears, daggers. He had acquired his collection of armaments mostly after his service in the Special Forces when his voice had departed and people found him unthreatening.
Glancing into a beveled mirror mounted above the mantel, Luther spotted his battle-worn face. In his fifty years of earthly existence, he recalled being thrust to the brink of hell in several military conflicts. His haggard face reflected years of living on an emotional precipice where rushes of adrenaline seemed the norm.
His unexpected encounter at Hobnar Regional Hospital, with the daring pilot who had crashed near the landfill, had sent adrenaline coursing through his veins once more. The shock of seeing this young man who so strongly resembled Luther’s family had jolted Luther back into the world of speech. At first, streams of profanity passed his lips, eventually followed by softer refined words. But uttering words to others hadn’t crossed his mind. Other methods of communication remained preferred. He had grown accustomed to his world of silence. It suited him well, playing into his desire to listen and absorb wisdom from others.
Luther was no fool. In his younger days, he traveled the world, embarking upon dangerous missions, bravely fighting exhaustive battles. Even now, as his eyes closed, seared memories replayed in his mind. Painfully he remembered a treacherous saber duel that had marked his jaw line with a long grisly scar. Easily, Luther recalled the sound of clanking silver blades which had flashed under the unrelenting heat of Grenada's sunny sky. Ferociously, Luther had fought, defeating a cruel enemy. But Luther had paid the price, unable to remain unscathed in battle. Damage inflicted upon valiant Luther resulted in nearly sixty stitches that horrendous day. Those were physical scars. Subsequent emotional trauma plagued him with a heavier toll.
The place was Panama. This tropical paradise proved more dangerous, Luther being a soldier responsible for psychological warfare. In his assigned role, Luther helped maintain the complicated military stereo system blaring heavy metal music into Gen. Noriega's compound.
Shuddering with terrifying memories, Luther backed away from the mirror feeling more resolved in his determination to do something positive with his life. Though he couldn’t change the past, nor do anything at the moment about the lunatic of a man laying naked at Hobnar Regional Hospital claiming to be his son, Luther knew where he could make a difference….Brightan. The villainous church vandals still roamed the streets of the neighboring town—hoodlums on the prowl.
Desperately, Luther required a weapon. Unquestionably it would be impractical for Luther to strut about carrying his prized saber, the very sword responsible for Luther’s salvation in Grenada. But a treacherous dagger could do the trick. Luther possessed such a menacing tool.
Stepping closer toward the mantel, Luther clutched the dagger, concealing it within a leather sheath attached to his belt. Armed, he felt prepared. Heaven help him, justice would finally prevail.
Meanwhile, back near the Grubby Cauldron, Rev. Paul Purpose stepped in front of Gloria, halting abruptly.
Her tear stained face revealed the extent of anguish her soul suffered—all on account of Luther, whom she shockingly proclaimed to love all of a sudden.
“I’m having a difficult time connecting your professed love for Luther to binge eating at the V.F.W.” Though Rev. Purpose usually conveyed a deep sense of compassion, his tone exposed his lack of understanding.
Sniffling, Gloria uttered, “I’m tortured. On the one hand, I’m in love with the man. But he’s got secrets. You know exactly what I mean.” Earle B. Goode’s name remained constrained within her lips. “I’m sorry, Rev. Purpose. I got so upset that I lost control.”
“Does he know you love him?” The minister eyed her directly. “Gloria?”
Shaking her head, Gloria responded the best way she knew how. “No.”
“Well, for goodness sake, don’t you think it would be in your best interest to tell Luther?”
“Not anymore.” Gloria worried that Earle’s appearance in Dalton Springs had sabotaged any hope of forming a lasting loving relationship with the mute. “I have to get over Luther. Simple as that.”
© 2006 by author. All rights reserved.
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