Authors: M.A. KROPF
I was off for the weekend and thankful for the break. We went to the park, did some shopping, and played in our yard. Enjoying the time together. Sunday night came and the reality of going back to work and school landed squarely down on top of us.
My husband got the girls dressed and tucked into bed while I made lunches. Halfway through, I sighed, realizing that we were out of bread and feeling like a bad mom for not having done all the shopping this week. I looked up at the clock. Nine o’clock, I could still run out for bread. My husband offered to go but he was already snuggled up with my two youngest reading one of their mystery books. I laughed as I walked out to the car.
You want a mystery, try spending five minutes in my head,
I thought
.
Starting the car, I was off to the store and thankful for a few minutes alone. Since meeting Max two days ago, I still felt as if I was trying to process the information. If I was supposed to be the strongest Aurator ever, what did that mean for me and my family? Was I going to miss my oldest daughter’s high school graduation because, “Oh I’m sorry honey, Mommy can’t be there because I have to kill someone?” I muttered in my frustration. I shook my head and started to think that if I had been able to resist in high school then maybe Max and Aaron were wrong about me. I don’t even remember having an urge to hurt anyone. The memory of the girl from my dream in the emergency room and the anger that accompanied being near her perplexed me. I don’t usually get so angry. That was one experience I couldn’t explain.
Finding parking at the store was tough. It seemed late to be so busy. I locked my car and started into the store. Placing my keys in my purse, I stepped on the rubber pad to open the automatic door.
Then it happened so fast that I had no time to process anything. I felt a cold slap to the left side of my face, my vision went blurry and everything was red. My entire body felt as if I had received an electrical shock, coursing from my core out through my fingers and toes. My breathing sped and my skin felt like it was on fire. Out of dizziness I grabbed at the metal bar separating the entrance from the exit. I heard a cracking noise as I dropped to my knees. Faces flashed in front of me. The faces from the dream… the women… the victims. I heard voices in the distance, saying something I couldn’t quite understand, getting closer. Finally able to take a deep breath, I closed my eyes again, and intense anger inside of me seemed to emanate from every inch of my body. I noticed that I could feel every muscle in my body as if each one was its own entity that I was able to control individually. My head snapped to the side as I felt someone grab my shoulder. Straining to regain control, I was slowly able to focus on a gentle face of concern in front of me. “Ma’am, ma’am, are you okay?”
My whole body was numb except for something cold in my left hand. Looking over, it became clear to me that the cracking sound I had heard was me pulling the metal handrail out of the ground. I looked up toward what was now a crowd standing around me. I could hear them chattering excitedly as if in the distance, “Oh no, the handrail broke… she fell… is she bleeding? . . . did someone call an ambulance?”
I struggled to stand, still a little unsteady. “I’m okay,” I finally got out. Everyone was looking toward me but I was looking elsewhere, searching… what was I looking for? I felt a pull and I turned slowly toward the parking lot. I scanned the cars that were around, difficult given that it was late at night.
Then I saw it… the dark aura, walking slowly away from me, gliding under one of the tall lamps. I felt a stab of pain and anger within my gut. It was a feeling that I had never had before. It took every bit of my strength to not go after it. There it was, my purpose, and I realized that at the core of who I was I would be unable to fight this pull.
I struggled to keep composure. There were several workers around me trying to make sure I was safe… probably wondering if I would sue for the faulty handrail. Little did they know I was the faulty one. I stood, unsteady on my feet but assuring everyone I was not hurt and I just needed a minute.
I looked around but the dark aura was gone. I walked back to my car and pulled out my cell phone. Dialing the number I still wasn’t sure what I was going to say. I tried desperately to slow my breathing, closing my eyes and concentrating on my racing heart rate. I heard a voice, “Hello?”
“Max?” I tried to make my voice sound steady.
“Megan? What’s wrong?”
I wasn’t sounding very controlled. I took a deep breath and started. I described the events that took place, trying not to leave anything out. After I finished there was silence. I waited.
“You didn’t do… anything?” he sounded stunned.
“What do you mean?”
“You didn’t go after him… complete… your purpose?”
“No.”
“I don’t know what to say. How did you not go after… him? Or was it a her?”
“A him, I think, I don’t know. I definitely felt the pull. I finally understand what you and Aaron have been talking about. But I just couldn’t, it didn’t feel right.”
“Hmmm, well, as I said, I can see we will have much to learn from you. How are you feeling now?”
“Better, thanks. I think I just needed to speak with someone who… well… would understand.”
There was a brief pause. “I’m glad I was here, but I don’t really understand. You seem to possess a skill for patience that doesn’t exist with the rest of our kind.”
I thought of other questions I still had for him. “Hey Max, can I come by tomorrow?”
“Sure, sure, anytime. I have a class from two to four in the afternoon, but otherwise I’m free.”
“Ten in the morning?”
“Sure. See you then.”
“Hey Max?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
As I hung up the phone I began thinking about what had happened. I wondered who this dark aura was. I knew he was connected to the women from my dream but could he really be the person I was supposed to…
kill
? Was he a… ? CRAP! I just remembered… bread. The original reason I came to the store in the first place. I got back out of my car and looked around. He was still nowhere in sight. Had it really happened? I walked toward the entrance wondering, but then I saw where I had ripped the metal hand railing out. Reality.
I stepped over the remnants of my destruction, chunks of cement strewn around the front that some poor teenager who was just looking for a part-time job was cleaning up. As I went inside, one of the workers hurried over, looking concerned, and asked if I was okay.
I nodded yes, thanked her, and moved toward the bread aisle. After purchasing the item I walked back to the car. Dream state is probably the closest I could come to describing how I felt. This could not be real, could it? Everything in my head was telling me no. But my body… my body still ached to go after him, to find him. I wasn’t sure what I would do when I found him… if I found him.
I went home and finished the sandwiches. Everyone was asleep. My nerves were shot. I walked into my bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet, and looked for a moment. Then I found it, a bottle of Xanax. I received the bottle during one of my visits to the doctor after a particularly difficult night in the emergency room. I got this prescription and a referral to psychiatry to talk about my
feelings
. The medicine I accepted. Psychiatrists? Not on your life.
I took one pill and went to bed. My husband was already asleep. I got in quietly, trying not to wake him, but he felt me in the bed and without waking turned over to curl behind me. His arm wrapped around me and I felt safe.
The next day after dropping the girls off at school I went to meet Max. I got to his door and was about to knock when I heard him say, “Come in, Megan.” I walked in.
“Hello Max.”
He got up from his antique wooden desk and walked over to me. Extending a hand, with a very warm smile that made his eyes close slightly, he said, “Hello, Megan. It’s very good to see you again.” Motioning for me to sit on the couch he offered me a cup of coffee. I graciously accepted. I didn’t know many nurses who would turn down coffee.
He sat down across from me in his chair and began, “So, you’ve found your purpose. Any idea who it is?”
I found that question rather odd, “No, do you?”
This question made him chuckle as he shook his head. “Did you see his face?”
“No, he was walking away from me when I was finally able to look up. I’m not even sure he is a he. But based on the shape walking away, I think it was a man.”
“Tell me again what happened.”
I retold the story of going to the store, the cold, falling down after ripping the metal guard out of the ground, and the almost painful urge I had to go after him. He sat drinking his coffee and nodded as if he understood. Maybe this had happened to him. I suddenly felt as if, even though the behavior was odd, what I was feeling was normal. He then cut me off.
“Excuse me, Megan. You
pulled
the guardrail out of the ground?” He leaned forward, anxiously awaiting the answer.
“Yes, it was weird. I barely knew I was doing it. One moment I was grabbing it for support, the next I heard a cracking sound and it was in my hand, cement base and all. Everyone around me thought it was loose and I had fallen because it came out.”
He sat back to think for a moment. “You know, we’re not supposed to have greater strength except when we are actually completing a purpose or in danger. I wonder… .” He trailed off and looked up at his bookshelf. I expected him to pull out another old book holding more secrets and fables, but instead he stood and walked to the bookshelf, climbed up on his ladder to the top shelf and pulled down a metal ball the size of a tennis ball. Climbing back down, he walked back to the couch and handed it to me. It was cold, heavy, clearly solid metal of some kind with one flat part… maybe a paperweight. I looked at him.
“Now what?”
He smiled and pointed to the ball, “Give it a squeeze.”
I shook my head, “This is crazy.”
“Humor an old man, just a little squeeze.”
I sighed. It took some effort to lift the ball. I squeezed my hand around the ball, but nothing happened. Looking back up at Max, I raised my eyebrows in an “I told you so” manner and tried to hand it back. He shook his head and gently pushed my hand and the ball back toward me.
“Try again, Megan.” He knelt down in front of me and stared with an intensity I was not used to. “Think of the aura… your purpose you saw last night.” I did and felt the anger brewing inside of me. My breathing quickened. Max saw this and continued, “Good, now I want you to picture the faces that appeared in your vision.” I closed my eyes and after a moment the faces from my dream flashed back and forth in my mind. I felt a cold sweat forming on the top of my lip and noticed that my muscles felt as if they were warming, each moving separately but together. I shifted in my seat and heard Max in an excited tone, “NOW!”
I squeezed but could no longer feel the ball in my hand. When I looked down, I saw my hand clamped around a mangled piece of metal. I tried to open my hand but my pointer finger was stuck under some metal that had folded over. With my other hand I attempted to unfold the metal. It felt hard and unmovable again, so I took a deep breath and concentrated, this time with my eyes open, and tried again. I felt my hand warm first, then my forearm as I bent the metal off my finger. Spreading my palm to view the disfigured paperweight, I looked up at Max.
He met my gaze with a bewildered look of awe. Then suddenly he looked behind me, which made me turn to see that Aaron had just walked in. His face held the same look as Max’s. “What the hell?” he said.
Max stood and extended his hand to Aaron. Always with perfect etiquette. “Hello Aaron, thanks for coming. You almost missed it.”
“What was that? How did you… ?” Aaron walked toward me and reached for the metal to examine it.
“I don’t know. Max asked me to and… well… you can see what happened.”
We both looked toward Max who had walked back to the bookshelf and was shuffling through some old papers he had pulled out. He put a finger up toward us and started, “Asclepius was known to have the power over objects.” Grabbing several papers haphazardly in his hands, he walked back to sit with us. He flipped through several of his papers then started again. “Since Asclepius was of the belief that he had this strength over objects and the ability to see auras like us, he came to the realization that the ones like us had certain talents. Each different. His daughter also had talents.”
I raised my hand as if in class. Laughing at this, I put my hand back down and asked my question. “Didn’t you say Asclepius was a god? A mythological being?”
Smiling at what I could only construe was the humor in my inane question he responded, “No, he was rumored to have been
made
a god by Zeus and placed among the constellations after Zeus killed him for raising the dead. We, however, know that he did not raise the dead, he saved those who were supposed to die by killing the ones who were to do the murdering… his purposes.” He then turned a page of the many papers toward me to show me a picture of a statue. “This is Asclepius. Do you see the staff he is holding?”